Chapter 1

Butch tripped and fell on the way up the three steps leading to the back door, and that set a dog barking somewhere in the outbuildings. Max swore and looked at Butch in a threatening way. Pete was trying not to laugh and, at the same time, was looking a little pissed off himself at Butch. But it was really no use getting pissed off at Butch, any more than it would be worthwhile getting pissed off at a six-year-old kid. Butch looked a little ashamed of himself (as always when he'd done something stupid) and picked up the gun he'd dropped. He wiped it on the leg of the pants he'd taken off the body of the fat guy who had stopped to give Pete a ride.

Max tried the door just in case, but, of course, it was locked. Anyone living this far out in the boonies would have the sense to lock the doors at night. The dog stopped barking, and Max listened. There wasn't a sound from the house. He laid his shoulder against the door and pushed a little. It wasn't like a Greek Orthodox church, but it wasn't ready to buckle at a sneeze, either. Max beckoned to Butch, and the big gorilla leaned close to him.

"See if you can open it up without waking half the county, will you?" Butch nodded and put the gun in his pocket. A gun never looked very impressive in his hands. It always looked like a toy. He put one hand on the knob, completely obscuring it, and with the other he got as good a grip as he could on the door frame. He pushed on the door a few times, each time a little harder than the last. The door made a grating sound as metal rubbed against metal. The house was old and the wood was probably more than a little rotten.

Butch looked at Max and grinned and leaned down again and put a little of his back into it. The door went in a little further this time and stayed that way. Another shove and Butch forced the lock apart. There wasn't a chain, and if there was a latch the owner hadn't thrown it.

Inside it was like any old fashioned farm house. They walked from the service porch to the kitchen, and then into a hall that led the length of the place. There were two bedrooms to the right of the hill, and a dining room and a living room to the left. Between the service porch and the dining room was a single bathroom, and at the other end, clear across the front of the place, was a screened-in porch. There wasn't anyone in the place.

Naturally Butch started to turn on a light as soon as they had made sure no one was there. Max stopped him with an impatient gesture. "We keep the place dark," he said. "The owners will be coming back sometime tonight, and we want them to walk in without suspecting anything. Right?" Butch thought that one over for a moment.

"Oh, sure. Sure, I didn't think o' that, Max," he said apologetically.

They sat in the living room with their guns across their laps. Max made a search of the closets first and found a shotgun and a rifle in one of them. There was some ammunition, too, and he loaded the two weapons and gave the shotgun to Pete. Pete liked a shotgun. He had used one in all of his jobs.

While they were waiting, Max turned on an old-fashioned radio, and they listened to the bulletins about themselves. The bulletins would have been encouraging if they had been trustworthy. The trouble was, you could never believe them. The State Cops were cagier than that.

About one o'clock in the morning a car turned down the long, graveled drive that led from the highway. Pete sat up a little straighter with the pump action shotgun ready in his hands, and Max reached out with one foot and nudged Butch, who had been snoring softly for a half hour. He turned off the radio and hissed to Pete, "Go around to the back door, just in case they come in that way. If they see the busted door they may try to get out of here. Don't let 'em."

Pete nodded in the dimness arid headed through the dining room to the bathroom. Butch looked at Max and smiled that crazy- kid smile of his that always give Max the creeps. He had his gun in his hand. Max motioned to a place beside the double doors leading from the living room to the screened-in porch. "Put the gun away," he ordered. "If they come in that way, you knock the man out of action, if there is a man. If there's a woman with him, and she starts to make noise, cool her too."

Butch grinned, put the.38 back in his pocket and walked over to the place beside the door. There was another door, a regular- sized one, leading into the hall from the porch, and Max decided to cover that one from the back bedroom. He cocked the hammer of the lever-action rifle and kept his finger light on the trigger. The dog started barking again just as the car pulled abreast of the house. It moved on to the back of the place, and Max heard the emergency brake rasp to a locked position. So they were probably coming in the back way. Max headed down the hall at a fast walk, motioning to Butch to stay where he was. He made it to the kitchen just as the doors were slamming on the car. A couple of people got out and started toward the back door. Max could see them through the window. It was very dark, but he could tell that the figures were a man and a woman. Voices reached him, too soft to be understood, but the voices sounded young. The woman laughed, a silvery sound he hadn't heard in three years. It made his bowels turn over and his cock stiffen.

The couple had closed the door after coming in, of course, as well as they could close it. They came up the stairs and the man started to fit a key into the lock, then stopped. Max could almost hear the puzzlement in his silence.

"That's funny." The words were incredibly clear at this distance.

The woman answered with a question. "What, darling?"

It was impossible to see them now because of the angle of the wall.

"Let's go back to the car," the man said, and there was a grimness in his voice. He was a sharp son of a bitch, Max thought. That would be something to remember. He moved toward the service porch as the thought took shape in his mind. He reached it just as Pete came out of the bathroom with the shotgun in his hands, and Max motioned him toward the door. Pete yanked it open with one hand and stuck the shotgun through and out into the night.

"All right, folks," he said, "just step right in."

Max was in the service porch now, and he could see the man, still standing on the stoop with his keys in his hand. He looked as though he was thinking of trying something with Pete, but then he saw Max and the rifle and apparently decided not to fuck around with two armed men. Max pointed the rifle in the direction of the woman. "You heard the man. Come in. Both of you."

The woman looked at her husband for a moment, and then they both came in. The woman was carrying some kind of a bundle, and it took Max a moment to realize that it was a child all wrapped up and asleep. Pete pointed the shotgun at the woman and baby, and Max put the rifle down against the wall and frisked the guy.

"We don't have any money," the man said.

"That's all right," Max told him. "We're not after money, friend. We just want some hospitality for a while."

"My God," the woman said suddenly. "Jim, they're the--" She broke off. Max smiled at her.

"That's right, sweety. We're the escaped convicts. You two hear about us on the car radio?" He waited for her to answer, but she just stood there in the darkness, and Max asked again, "Did you hear about us?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, we heard."

"Well, then, you know we're nobody to fuck with." The language made her start a little, and the guy looked pissed off about it, but of course there wasn't anything he could do. Max switched on the light and looked at them. They were squinting in the sudden brightness.

The woman was a real looker. She was blonde and in her early twenties, Max guessed. She was about five-four, and she had a shape like a bathing suit model, with legs to match. Her face was something you could see on the cover of a magazine, and she wore her hair long, down around her face. She was more than pretty, he decided. She was a real beauty, and that would make things pleasant for however long it was necessary to stay in this goddamn place.

The guy wouldn't make things so pleasant. He was a big son of a bitch, with a set to his jaw that made Max want to kill him right then. But he decided to wait. The bastard might be some good around the place. He looked like he was in his middle or late twenties.

"Come on in the house, folks," Max said. He picked up the rifle and backed into the kitchen, snapping on the light there too. The guy came on in, followed by the woman, still carrying the kid. Pete followed them with the shotgun trained on the woman's back. She looked like she was about to shit her pants she was so scared. The guy looked scared, too, but he was better at handling it. Max wondered whether he'd been in a tight squeeze of some sort before. He told himself again that this was someone to watch.

"YOU got any rope in this place?" Max asked.

"No. "

Max came in fast and drove the butt of the rifle into the man's gut. The guy was hard as rock, and he only doubled. Most men would have gone down. He almost looked like he was going to come back at Max for a moment, but Max was already out of reach, and he had the rifle leveled at him again.

"Don't forget about the little woman, friend," he said. "If you try anything, Pete there won't swing the gun on you. He'll cut your family to pieces with the first shot, and then he'll worry about you. It's just good sense to eliminate as many as possible when a magilia starts."

The guy looked at Pete and glanced at his wife, who was crying by this time. The baby was still asleep, though it had stirred at bit at the noise when Max hit its old man. "Now I'm going to ask you again for some rope. I know you got some. No one keeps a farm with no rope."

The guy could hardly talk yet, and he looked like he was going to be a little stubborn. Max got ready to convince him some more, but the woman chimed in.

"There's some clothesline under the sink," she said.

Max got the line out. It was thin nylon rope, strong enough to hold a bull. He gave it to Pete, laying his rifle against the wall and taking the shotgun.

"Tie the hero up."

Pete yanked the guy's hands behind him and tied them together. He did a good job, of course. That was one thing about Pete. He always did a good job. The guy winced a little at the tightness of the ropes, and Max laughed.

"Cut off the circulation? Well, that's good. That way you won't be so tempted to try something." Pete got a knife out of one of the drawers and cut the rope and used another piece to tie the guy's ankles together. Then he started toward the woman. "Don't tie her up yet," Max said. "I have plans for her."

The guy twisted his head around so fast he almost fell down. "You touch my wife and I'll--"

"You'll stand there and watch," Max said. "Because that's all you can do. You're in no position to make threats, buddy." He walked up to the man and hooked the butt of the shotgun behind his feet. One little tug and the guy went down, landing hard on his ass and then bumping his head on the linoleum floor. The woman screamed, and the baby woke up and started to howl.

"Please," the woman said, "don't hurt him. Please."

"Well, I'll go easy on him just for you," Max said over the baby's crying. "Considering how much you and I are going to be to each other."

The woman's husband swore and pulled stupidly at the ropes on his wrists, and Pete laughed.

"Shut that little bastard up," Max said. "Or I'll shut him up for you." She started to rock the baby in her arms and croon little sounds to it, and after a moment the crying stopped. Then the woman looked up and almost screamed again. She had to bite her lip to cut it off. Max followed her gaze to the door and saw Butch standing there with a dumb grin on his face. "Don't worry, sweets," Max said. "He won't hurt you. Unless I let him off the leash. Then he'll probably eat that kid of yours between two pieces of bread."

"Don't talk like that to her," the guy said from the floor, where he was sitting up now. "We know you're in the driver's seat. You don't have to scare her to death."

"That's where you're wrong, Farmer Brown. I do have to scare her, because I don't want any trouble, and the more scared you two are the less likely you are to pull something stupid. As long as the two of you do as you're told and don't try something, we'll get along. But the first time either of you tries anything at all, no matter how little a try it is, I'm going to kill the kid first, and then the woman and then you. Now I hope you've got that straight."

He didn't answer. He just looked at Max for a moment, and then looked at the floor. "Get him in the living room," Max said to Butch. Butch bent over the guy and hauled him to his feet with no trouble at all. Max could see the effect that had on the two of them. The guy was big, and it was an impressive demonstration of strength on Butch's part.

"I can't walk with my feet like this," the guy said.

"You can hop." Max jerked his head toward the hall, and the guy started to hop in that direction. He almost fell down three times before he got there. Max told Butch to carry him. Butch picked the man up like a baby in his arms. He didn't even grunt. The woman looked more frightened than before.

"He was the one who opened your locked door," Max said with a grin. "He didn't have to use his shoulder at all. Just his hands. And he can break your legs just as easy."

They got the guy into the living room and put him on the floor against the front wall. "Now, you, sweety," Max said. "I want you to show me around the place. We'll start with the master bedroom."

"Goddamn you," her husband shouted, really losing his cool now, "you leave her alone, you son of a bitch! I'll kill you if you so much as--"

Max walked up to him and kicked him in the side, good and hard. His wife let out a gasp that would have been a scream if she hadn't bitten it off. The guy rolled away just as the kick landed, but it was still solid enough.

"Put something in his mouth," Max said. "I'm tired of listening to him. Now, cutie, let's go."

"Please," the woman said. "I--"

"I'm tired of listening to you, too, cunt. Now move!"

She started off, her legs a little wobbly under her. Max gave the shotgun back to Pete and told Butch to go get the rifle. "If he shows any signs of getting loose, or I yell at you from the bedroom, kill him."

He looked at the woman as he spoke. She bowed her head, as though resigning herself to what was about to happen. Something in the gesture excited Max more. He hadn't seen a woman since they'd locked him up, three years ago, and this was where he did some catching up.

She led him to the bedroom and put the baby into a crib. It was still asleep. The trim on the crib was Pink, "A girl?" he asked. She nodded. "I wouldn't hurt a baby. No sense to it. But the geek in there likes to hurt people and things, helpless things. Did they say over the radio what he was up for?" She shook her head, and he had the feeling that she didn't want to be told. Max smiled. "Torture murder they called it. Rape, too. He got a hold of a young girl and held her in a drain pipe for two days while he had his fun with her. He'd love to do the same thing to your baby, except for the rape, of course. He'd just like to make her cry. And he knows all kinds of ways to do that."

"Oh, sweet Jesus," the woman said, and started to cry again.

"Now, don't get to worrying about it, baby, I'm not going to let him hurt the little bastard. As long as you and I are friends, why should I?"

"All right," she said. "I understand. You've made your point. If I don't do what you want, my baby will be tortured to death."

"You get an A for the day's lesson. Just keep it in mind."