to when we did have some good times, T.J.”
Hawkins lifted the bottle and drank. He brushed at his creased shirt. “Seems you caught me on an off day, Vic. I need to do my laundry.”
“Got to admit I’ve seen you looking better in the middle of a firefight, T.J.”
Hawkins gave a vague shrug, reaching for his glass again. “To better days.”
“So what happened after you left the service?”
“Things kind of went on a downward spiral. What the hell, Vic, I was trained as a damned soldier, not a brush salesman. Tried different things but nothing lasted. Money was scarce. I wasn’t pulling much in, so I started looking around for anything where I could put my training to use. You know what? Ain’t much there. Almost hooked up with a mercenary group going to Africa. Missed the boat there, too. Funny, I heard a month later the whole crew were wiped out by some local militia. So I guess my luck stayed with me that day.”
“And now?”
“I scratch around. Do a little social drinking, if you know what I mean. But I’m not eating too high off the hog, and that old pickup outside on the lot is the best I can afford right now.”
“What you working on now?”
“Now? Right now I’m drinking with an old Army buddy who looks like he won first prize.”
Lerner smiled. “Can’t complain.” He hesitated for a moment. “T.J., you up for a job?”
Hawkins toyed with his glass. “Is it legal?”
Lerner laughed. “Does it make a difference?”
“Hell, no. That deal I had with that jerk who was here wasn’t exactly tax deductible. Anything that kicks the honest and upright’s ass is just what I need. Walking the line didn’t do me any good. I did the right thing and the Army booted me out. Honorable discharge—that was their way of getting rid of me.”
“How about we get out of here? Let me buy you a decent meal and make a call. Could be I can find you a place with the people I work with. Hell, T.J., you got the credentials we’re looking for.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Lerner led the way out of the bar. His vehicle was parked at the edge of the lot. A dark metallic-gray Blazer.
“Cool-looking truck,” Hawkins said.
“What about yours?”
Hawkins grinned. He pointed across the lot to a battered and sad-looking Chevy pickup. The once-red paintwork had faded to a dull pink and numerous scratches showed rust.
“Some set of fancy wheels.”
“You said it, Vic.”
“Where did you buy that?”
“Let’s say it’s kind of borrowed. I don’t even have insurance, or papers for it.”
“That kind, huh?” Lerner grinned. “You bothered about leaving it lay?”
“Hell, no, the tank’s about dry anyhow.” Hawkins hesitated. “You mind if I pick up my bag?”
“Go fetch it.”
Lerner used his remote to unlock his truck and climbed in. He waited until Hawkins returned with a scruffy duffel over his shoulder. Opening the passenger door, Hawkins tossed his bag on the rear seat and settled in the passenger seat as Lerner fired up the powerful engine.
“Sweet sound.” He patted the leather seat. “I might move in. This is better than the trailer I’m living in right now.”
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Lerner said, “if this works out, you could be running around in one of these.”
As Lerner drove out of the lot, dust spewing up from beneath the heavy tires, Hawkins sank into the comfort of the seat, almost closing his eyes.
“Who do I have to kill to get one of these?” he asked. “Just remember that I got my own fantasy list to work through first.”
“That bad?”
“Fuck, Vic, look at me. One step off being a tramp. Man, I’ve been so long on the downslide I forgot what it’s like to walk tall. Be honest? If you can get me something I’m in. Man, I just want to climb out of this damn hole I been stuck in for too long.”
“O UR TWO-DAY STAKEOUT paid off. Looks like Lerner took the bait. He and T.J. just took off in Lerner’s truck. They headed west. That’s in the direction of the Townsend ranch. We’ll hang back. Give them some space until we know if it’s taken.”
“Keep us updated, Carl,” Price said. “Just don’t let anything happen to T.J. or we’ll have World War McCarter on our hands.”
Lyons smiled bleakly. He wasn’t a man to be fazed by anything, but given a choice between a room full of cobras and David McCarter on the prod, he admitted he would go for the snakes.
“Talk to you,” he said, and broke the cell phone connection.
He picked up the transceiver on the seat beside him and called Blancanales. “T.J. and Lerner in a metallic-gray Blazer heading your way, Pol.” He recited the license number. “Give them room. All we do now is watch and wait.”
“Understood.”
Lyons called Hermann Schwarz.
“The Politician has them under surveillance. They took off west from the bar.”
“Okay. What do we do?”
“Head back to the motel for now. We’ll coordinate once we hear from Pol or T.J.”
“M R . T OWNSEND, THIS IS T.J. Hawkins, the feller I called you about. We were in the service together until he got in a jam.”
“Heard about your trouble,” Townsend said. “You’re not the first to end up on the wrong end of military injustice. Might make a man want to get even. How do you feel on that score?”
“I think you already know that, Mr. Townsend. Since Vic called earlier, you probably have most there is to know about me.”
Townsend smiled. He jerked a thumb at the computer setup on the corner of his wide desk.
“We live in the age of information, Hawkins. Press a button and a man’s life spills right across your monitor.”
Don’t I know it, Hawkins thought. And now I also know I’m looking at your own information bank.
Hawkins waited. He wanted to see how Kurtzman’s data implants had colored his files. It was surprising, and a little scary, to realize just what could be done to someone’s background in the hands of a man like Aaron Kurtzman.
“Seems you’ve had quite a ride since you quit the military. Close scrapes with the law. What was that little
