Spurlock nodded and rolled down his window. He slipped his pistol into his hand.
Nog surprised them all, however, by pulling a U-turn in the middle of the orchard. He chose a spot for the manuever where three trees were missing. Only dark wounds showed where the trees had been uprooted and removed like rotten teeth. The open sky showed above; a brief streak of bright blue that tore through the otherwise seamless green canopy.
“A storm blew those out last winter,” remarked Ingles unconcernedly, even as he hand-over-hand whipped the steering wheel around and back again. Spurlock frowned at him, unsure how he could be so cool in such a situation.
“He’s trying to get back to the main road, where he can pour it on,” shouted Spurlock.
The chase doubled back to the canal embankment. It was there that Nog made a fatal error. He tried to cut a sharp turn just as he crested the embankment. The car lurched up and veered right, toward the main road, but didn’t make the turn. Instead, it slid sideways toward the canal and over the edge. The big white Lincoln rolled over like a dying whale and crashed down into the slime and filth at the bottom of the concrete walls.
Ingles and Spurlock pulled up in the Ranger and walked to the edge.
“He’s been thrown out and crushed,” said Spurlock, panting, “smashed like a bug under that big boat. Splat! Ha! Ha! Game over, Nog!”
“Should have worn his seatbelt,” commented Ingles. The two of them returned to the idling Ranger and climbed in.
“What now?”asked Spurlock.
“It seems that Nog has mistakenly handed us a golden opportunity.”
“How’s that?”
“He had written a virus, which Vance discovered,” began Ingles with the air of one relating a news story. “Upon being confronted, Nog struck Vance unconscious, taped him up and prepared to flee the area. Unfortunately, he took a bad turn into the canal.”
“What about Vance? He’s probably alive in there.”
“Possibly, but not for long.”
“Are you saying you want me to pop him?” asked Spurlock, hefting his pistol doubtfully.
“No, no. Bullet wounds are too hard to explain. I was thinking of the irrigation of the local fields. If I, or another local grower, were to place an order for water tonight…”
“Ha! He’ll drown in that trunk like a boxed rat!”
“Exactly,” said Ingles. He put the truck in gear and they headed for the main road.
When they reached it and began driving, Spurlock heaved a sigh and began thinking. His head started hurting again, worse than before. Coming down from an adrenalin rush left him low again, lower than ever.
“Shit,” he said, pushing his thumb into him temples, then against his brow.
He glanced over at Ingles. The guy was a cool customer, there was no doubt of it. He was sweating and pale and everytime he worked the clutch pedal with his damaged foot, he winced, but otherwise you would never know the guy was in agony. Spurlock knew from experience that wounds always got worse when they had enough time to swell up and throb.
“Where are we headed now?” Spurlock asked.
“I plan to drop you at the bus station with enough cash to make it out of town.”
Spurlock blinked back his pounding head and tried to think. “Okay, what about my money? Give me the locker number.”
Ingles inclined his head. “Locker number 4393,” he said evenly. He passed over a key with an orange plastic handle on it. Stamped on the key were the digits 4393.
Spurlock looked at it, then slid his eyes back to Ingles. “Where are you headed?”
“The Sacramento airport, of course. Delta flight 953 to Salt Lake City is waiting for me.”
Spurlock nodded. “You’re sure that this key goes to airport lockers in San Fran?”
“American Airlines terminal, lower level,” said Ingles.
“How ‘bout you drop me off in San Fran, and maybe even come in with me to find the locker?”
Ingles shook his head. “Your paranoia is admirable, sir, but I don’t have the time. My flight is leaving. As it is, I need to see a doctor friend about this foot of mine.”
Spurlock looked down at the foot. A thread of dark blood had oozed out of the shoe to stain the truck’s dusty carpet.
“Oh yeah,” he said, “You mean this foot?”Then with a quick motion he reached out and brought his boot heel down on Ingles toes. Or rather, where his toes had been.
Ingles whooped and the car lurched wildly. Spurlock was ready for that. He grabbed the wheel and kept the truck on the road.
He threw the locker key at Ingles and shoved the gun into the man’s cheek. “Why are you trying to fuck me, man?”
Ingles gargled and blinked, still recovering from the shock of pain.
“Why? Huh? What is this, everybody hump Spurlock week?” he demanded. His head throbbed, but the burning almost felt good.
“What is the — ” croaked out Ingles.
“What’s the matter?” asked Spurlock, “I’ll tell you what the fucking matter is, you piece of shit! There is no locker 4393 at that airport. I checked ahead of time.”
“How do you know-” began Ingles.
Spurlock rammed the gun harder against the other’s head. Ingles was pushed against the truck’s doorframe.
“Because I called them, you asshole! I wanted to know if you were gonna pull any funny shit. They use a five-digit code, with a letter. Where’s this key from, Ingles? Huh? Tell me, I really want to know.”
Ingles glanced at him over the gun without moving his head. Spurlock saw something in his eyes, something that wasn’t quite right. They had eye contact for only a half-second, but Spurlock knew he was in there, still scheming.
The truck, in the meantime had rolled almost to a halt. Ingles pulled it out of gear to keep the engine from dying. He grimaced as he used his injured foot.
“It’s a locker from a ski resort. Dodge Ridge, I believe. It’s up in the Sierras on highway forty-nine.”
“I don’t give a shit where it is!” roared Spurlock. “Where is my DAMNED MONEY?”
Ingles put the car painfully into gear again, then soon shifted into second. “There isn’t any money.”
It was Spurlock’s turn to register shock. “What?” he laughed in disbelief.
“There never was. I’ve been a bit strapped lately, which is partly why I did this whole operation. Primarily, however, I did it all for love,” Ingles snorted. “I suppose it all seems foolish now. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”