“Yes, we’ve got to go,” said Hess. “Luckily, I have a solution.” Hess turned, walked back to the ‘Big Drink’ cup he had placed on the ground, and brought it to One. “Here, hold this. Do ya have that plastic wrap?”
“Yes. In my pocket.”
“Get it out,” said Hess. “Wrap it tightly over the top of the cup. Then come over here next to Judge Sayor. Maybe we can fix all this.”
Hess went back to the burlap sack, stooped down, and opened the drawstring. Slipping the wire loop over its head, he drew out another four-foot Diamondback Rattler. He gripped it firmly behind the head with his right thumb and forefinger. “You see, Your Honor, our real dilemma is we can’t leave you here with two snake bites. People won’t believe that. And we can’t leave you alive.” Turning to One, Hess snapped: “Bring over the cup. Hold it dead steady. We’re gonna milk the snake.”
When One was set, holding the cup with both hands, Hess brought over the second snake. With its fangs extended, he put the snake’s mouth around the edge of the cup. As soon as it punctured the clear plastic, Hess squeezed. The glands below its eyes shot yellow venom through its fangs into the cup. Hess threw the snake to the ground and it too slithered away toward nearby rocks. Hess removed the plastic wrap from the cup One was holding. He took a syringe from his pocket. The big man slid off the protective covering on the needle and stuck the syringe into the cup. Pulling back on the plunger, he loaded it with deadly venom. Then he turned to the judge. Approaching with the needle, Hess said, “Your time’s up shithead.” Then he yelled at One, “Put down the damn cup. Hold him tight.”
The judge stared up in wild-eyed terror as the Watchman grabbed him from behind. Hess jammed the needle into one of the puncture wounds in his leg and drove in the plunger, slowly, until the syringe was bone dry. “Keep holding him up,” he said to One. Hess reached into his jean pocket, thinking about his former wife and son, and pulled out a green-laser pointer. He quickly opened it. Without hesitating, he fired the light into each of the judge’s eyes.
“My God, I can’t see! My eyes…” moaned the judge through the red tape.
“Just a final point,” said Hess. “Blind justice is fuckin’ no justice.”
Hess turned to One. “Let him drop.”
Ten minutes later, Hess determined Sayor was gone. His lower left leg had ballooned into a purplish mass. The venom had gone to his heart. Hess yanked off the red tape, cut the hand restraints, and shouted at One, “Let’s head out.”
“Herr Hess, one question, please.”
“What now?”
Looking unsure of himself, One said, “Why shine that green light into his eyes?”
Hess smiled. “It’s green laser light. 100 milliwatts. Illegal but effective. Easy to buy on the internet. It oversaturates the eyes. Causes temporary blindness. Well, if too much, could cause permanent retina damage. But I know just how much to use, based on past experiments. That way, no trace. We don’t want to leave evidence—do we?”
“No, of course not.”
“Bet your ass.”
Hess picked up the burlap bag and threw in the tape, the stick and loop, the cup and plastic wrap, the plastic ties, the needle, and its protective cover. Then he pointed a finger at One. “Always protect the environment. The desert is pristine. Beautiful. This plastic shit can last 5,000 years. Here, take the bag. Trade it for the rake in the back of my truck.”
One obeyed and then stood silently by the truck.
“OK,” said Hess, “now I’m going to move the truck back two hundred yards to the road. I want you to rake all these footprints, and the tire tracks. Meet me at the truck. Don’t leave a bit of evidence showing we were here. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” said One.
Hess stopped and looked hard at the boy. There was something in his eyes. In his tone. The boy looked a bit dazed. “Getting sentimental on me? Didn’t like what you saw here this morning?”
“What? No.” One looked down at his shoes.
Hess’ face turned to stone. “Don’t be stupid. People, like Sayor, who don’t keep commitments are like flies that suck blood. So, you have to whack ’em harder. Wipe them out. Death alone isn’t enough.”
“Yes, Herr Hess. Sorry.”
“Forget sorry. Just, move it. Do your job. We still have to wipe out other blood-sucking vermin. And we’ve got less than two weeks—13 days—to do it. It’s all got to be wrapped up before the Sunday Summit. Understood?”
One gripped the rake in his hands and met Hess’ eyes. “Yes. Of course. Whatever you say.”
CHAPTER 42
Ridge and Jayne had arrived for breakfast at the Best Earth Restaurant in Hermosa Beach around 9:30. The place was a favorite. Right near the sandy shore at Pier Avenue. It had sunny outside tables and terrific omelets, and although the wait could be long on Sunday mornings, it was totally worth it.
They’d just been seated when Ridge’s cell went off. “Hey, Terry.” Ridge said, as he picked up. “We’re at Best Earth. Just got seats. Join us?”
Even Jayne could hear Terry’s laugh. “Best Earth on Sunday? Order me a spinach and feta omelet. I’ll be there in less than fifteen.”
“Will do.”
Terry arrived, as advertised, within fifteen minutes. He had on shorts, sandals, and a blue and white Hawaiian shirt. A bit summery for springtime L.A., but not surprising. What was surprising was… “Terry, are you bandaged up under your shirt?”
“That’s one of the things we need to talk about. Did you already order?”
“Yup. Food should be here soon.”
“OK, so I took a little night drive to 100 Royal Hill and my visit was, obviously, not welcome.” Terry proceeded to recount his evening and the run-in with the security goon. “When I got back to L.A., I stopped at the 24-Hour Urgent Care in Torrance. X-rays showed possible rib fractures, so they decided to wrap them for a few days, if just to slow me down. But I don’t know. One tech said with hairline fractures, to wrap or not to wrap was always the question. Ask four doctors and they’ll split two-two on whether bandages do any good. But I know one thing: they’re hot and uncomfortable. So, I might unwrap myself later today. Anyway, the bruising is the worst part, and I know that needs to breathe.”
The server brought their food and coffee refills. As soon as he left the table, Ridge said, “I went up there. You went up there. And we’re no closer to the brass ring. Let’s promise, no more solo missions. We stay a team for all future visits to Santa Barbara County. OK?”
“I’m a believer. The only thing I learned yesterday was that 100 Royal Hill is a big place with heavy security and at least one nasty dog. Next time, we bring in troops.”
“Try and try again. We’ve come up empty. We still don’t know what we’re into, so we should do the unexpected. I’ve got an idea. But that requires a bit of background. First, let me tell you what Jayne and I did yesterday.”
After Jayne and Ridge recounted the day at Dryden, the wonders of the WebBird, and their forced landing in a Torrance field, Terry interrupted, “Damnit, you should have called me.”
“My cell battery was out, and it was the only phone we had. Anyway, nothing you could do. We don’t even know for sure that the plane was tampered with.”
