One of the Wicked: A Mick Callahan Novel by Harry Shannon Page B

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    "Who gives a shit when he wakes up?" Cowboy finally answered. "He stays quiet, it's an easier drive."
    "What's this about, anyway? He's just some talk-show guy, for Chrissakes."
    "That's none of your business."
    This wasn't about revenge. They'd been sent to the strip bar, and had mistaken that first businessman they'd assaulted for Bud Stone. Apparently, I'd interfered with their plans to attack him, and then had been seen talking to Bone, so now they'd been told to pick me up. One of them turned up the radio. A repetitive pop hit assaulted my ears. I wriggled my hands and feet to restore circulation. They were bound by plastic police ties.
    No James Bond shit tonight, I was just going to have to be patient.
    Times like this, you suddenly think about dying. How easy it can be to get taken out. And anyone who claims they don't feel sick to their stomach and loose in the bowels when that happens is lying. Being helpless was the worst part. It was almost too much to bear on top of feeling scared. I'd woken up with my hands tied like this back in Dry Wells, and this wasn't any easier.
    We drove on. I drifted in and out of consciousness for quite a while. The head and neck pain probably kept me from going under for good, a dangerous possibility with a concussion. I did sleep a bit; I don't know for how long, and when I focused again my stomach had settled. The drone of the tires changed pitch as the driver slowed down, maybe for a traffic light. It was light out. I fell asleep again.
    "Wake up, Clyde," Cowboy said to Windbreaker. "We're here."
    My heart kicked. After a few minutes we drove over bumpy ground and came to a stop. They rolled a window down, and suddenly I caught the scent of freshly turned earth and distant sage. It was dead quiet. We were probably in the desert, many hours from Los Angeles. The seatbelt warning pinged. I opened my eyes slowly, wanting them to have time to adjust, and winced. The sunlight hurt my eyes.
    It was mid-morning.
    "He's awake," the other one said. The one Cowboy had called Clyde. He rolled me over onto my back, leaned down and ripped the taped gag away. My face burned. Clyde looked down coolly. "Don't look like much now, does he?"
    "He still looks like more than you could handle," Cowboy said. "Grab his feet, tough guy."
    They hauled me out of the van and dumped me on my side in the dirt. The world got sharp and clear. The hills were beautiful and the morning was fragrant with sage flowers. The ground was rich and moist, as if someone had recently planted here and was tending a new garden. Were they going to shoot me now?
    "Why?"
    At first I didn't recognize my own voice. I'd asked the question aloud. Cowboy ignored me. He pulled out a switchblade knife and flicked it open. I swallowed. He rolled me over, bent down behind me and cut away the plastic bonds. He nicked my skin, but the rush of blood covered that pain with another.
    "The fuck you doing?"
    Clyde. He didn't seem to like the idea of me getting back on my feet. He backed towards the van and produced a small handgun. I caught a reflection, but not the make and model. I blinked and looked around. We were at some kind of building site. Tractors were moving in the distance, despite the heat. A construction crew was working busily. A new hotel?
    "Sit up, Callahan."
    I did. Cowboy cut my ankles free. I massaged them, and my wrists. I turned my head and saw a giant complex, a new hotel of some kind. The pieces started to come together. I squinted against the glare, made out a few markers here and there. Found one that said "The Valley of Fire Corporation."
    "Can you stand?"
    I rolled over, got up onto hands and knees, then to my feet. "I'm okay." I listed to port, and Cowboy caught me. "Maybe not so okay."
    He examined my forehead. "You got popped pretty good. Sorry about that. Clyde gets a little carried away sometimes."
    "Me?" Clyde was literally shaking in his boots. "The fuck you mean me?"
    Cowboy didn't answer. He pushed me at