Mac sat in the back polishing his gun, which he did for the entire drive. Butch and Sundance were both unnerved by the incessant sound of thin cloth sliding over the metal barrel of a .45. They would normally be bullshitting and bickering, but instead, they sat in silence waiting for headlights to drop over the horizon and sink to the bottom of the hill.
It only took about a half-hour before the first limousine coasted over the crest of the yard and drove to the center of the lot. Sundance was on the roof of the van watching the car through binoculars. A second limo pulled into the rail yard from another entrance.
“Got ‘em,” Sundance said from the roof.
“Which one’s the mark?” Butch asked back.
“Hold on.”
Sundance watched both cars park about seventy-five yards away from each other. It looked likely that the meeting point was probably north of limo one and east of limo two.
The men began to pile out their vehicles.
“Okay,” Sundance said, “looks like group one’s our guys. Three men walking to the deal. Two armed with a sub-machine gun each. The other guy is the courier. He’s got the drugs.”
“All right, get in,” Butch said lightly and turned the motor over. Sundance climbed in the window.
The van started crawling toward the meeting point. “We’re gonna park on the east side of limo one,” Butch said. “Mac, you stay close to the van. With any luck, that second group of bastards will be in their car headed the other way when they hear the gunfire. Should give us a little time before you have to cover us.”
Mac didn’t respond, this time he was polishing his knife.
“Do-you-fucking-hear-me?”
Mac didn’t look up, but nodded acknowledgement.
Butch could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand out. He closed his eyes, trying to control his frustration. He opened them back up, “You better not get us fuckin’ killed.”
Sundance felt perfectly content just smiling at Butch’s frustration. He suppressed an ever so slight laugh. Butch could see it out of the corner of his eye, but just shook his head.
The van quietly crept along the gravel. As long as they stayed over a hundred feet away from the meeting point, where both groups had now converged, they shouldn’t be heard. Butch pulled the van around a boxcar no more than sixty feet northeast from the first car.
The meeting started to disband about fifty yards away and both groups headed back to their vehicles. Sundance got back on the roof of the van to look over the boxcar.
“Courier’s cuffed to the case. Whaddaya think the chances are he’s got the key on him.”
“Shit. That adds a minute.”
Sundance climbed back through the window and strapped on his MP50. He popped the clip and checked it. Cleared the chamber then tightened the strap a little. Butch preferred his .45 to sub machine guns. With only three targets, he felt comfortable with only his sidearm. He too un-holstered his weapon to check it when the back door slid open. Sundance looked up from his weapon to see Mac close the door behind him…and run away.
Sundance watched Mac run off into the darkness. He looked back at Butch to see a face just as surprised as his own. Whatever game-face the two of them had was completely gone now. Though Butch was skeptical of Mac’s talent, he didn’t expect something like this.
“Uh…Fuck,” Sundance whispered. Then there was a ten second pause before Butch’s frustration built too high to contain.
“Oh, that weasily-goddam-little-bitch-motherfucker. I knew it. I fuckin’ knew it. Ooh…he’s dead. He’s dead and Joe’s dead, but he’s gonna die first. He’s gonna die slow.”
“Jesus, Butch, shut the fuck up and get ready.” The targets were now only thirty yards away. “We gotta do this now, man. We can’t blow this. We gotta go now.”
Butch conceded while quietly venting an incredible array of cuss words. He put his hand on the door handle and said, “Goddamit, let’s do this fast. Once those assholes across the yard hear the shots, we won’t be able to shake ‘em without a base of fire.”
Butch popped the latch on the door as quietly as possible and crept to the left side of the boxcar. Sundance mirrored his movements on the right. The two of them hunkered down in their positions between boxcars. An overhead streetlight made it difficult to move and remain concealed. The drug dealers knew what they were doing when they picked this spot. It put Sundance in the position of firing the first shot when the targets also had the opportunity to see him.
Sundance waited for the men to get just a little closer. He knew he didn’t have to worry about Butch reacting to the first shot. The two of them had worked together for so long, their actions were synchronized without communication.
The two suited men on either side of the courier were professionals. Their eyes never stopped scanning the area. Sundance knew they would spot him if they moved any closer, but he had to wait until Butch could get a bead on the second suit. Only ten more feet.
One step later, the first suit locked eyes with Sundance. It didn’t matter if Butch had a shot now, it would have to be close enough. The target was already reacting when Sundance squeezed the trigger. The first suit’s head slung backward and a red cloud exploded behind it. Before his body fell, a round from Butch’s .45 struck the head of the second suit, sending him toppling backwards. Apparently there wasn’t much need for adjustment to make the shot.
The courier had quick reflexes as well. He ducked and reached for the gun under his jacket. As he did, the limo driver dropped the car into gear and punched the gas. The car barely moved. The tires threw gravel instead of gripping the surface. Didn’t know about him, Sundance thought. Butch quickly put three rounds into the courier’s chest before his fingers ever grazed his gun handle, then turned toward the limo.
Sundance stepped around the boxcar and switched his MP50 to full auto, then unleashed into the windshield of the car. Rockets of glass sprang upward with loud pops and crashes as bullets decimated the vehicle. The limo idled forward at a crawl.
Butch ran to the passenger side of the limo, firing rounds at the driver’s seat as he went. Sundance had emptied his entire thirty round clip by the time Butch reached the side of the car. The passenger side window had been shattered away. Butch paced next to the creeping limo, looking for the smallest twitch from the driver. It was clear that that wasn’t going to happen. At least six bullets were in the driver’s chest with other wounds scattered over his frame.
“Clear!” Butch yelled.
By this time Sundance had already replaced his spent magazine and had the gun trained back on the limo. He swung around to the direction of the second group and aimed at the darkness, expecting them to come shortly.
Butch ran toward the downed bodies while placing a fresh clip in his .45. He dug in the pockets of the courier, but he already knew he wouldn’t find the handcuff key.
“Nope,” Butch said.
He worked as quickly as he could. He holstered his gun and pulled a small leather case from his jacket pocket. It contained several small gray and black devices. One of them looked like a small piece of gum. He tore off a little chunk and wrapped it around the first chain link of the cuffs. Then he unscrewed the top of a pen-sized cylinder with a button on it. Out of it, he pulled a wire with two very small RCA plugs on it.
Butch began to put the tiny plugs into the gum-like explosive on the chain when Sundance quietly said, “Movement.”
Without hesitating, Butch laid down his equipment, un-holstered his gun and pointed it at the darkness where Sundance aimed. Butch couldn’t make out anything with this damn light pole above them. Worse, they were out in the open, looking at something just past their eyes’ ability to see.
Sundance moved toward cover on his right. Once he reached a static position Butch moved to his left and found cover near another boxcar. Butch could just make out a human figure in the middle of the opening, moving in his direction. Strolling right down the middle.
“Hold Fire!” Sundance yelled and came back out in the open
Butch was a bit confused until he saw the figure come within the light’s range. Mac came moseying down the road, covered in blood, carrying the case of drugs. He was wiping the knife on his shirt trying to get off the blood, but seemed to be having trouble finding a clean spot.
Sundance looked pissed. “What the FUCK was that about? Where the fuck were you?”
Mac held up the case.
“That the drugs?” Butch asked. Mac nodded and Butch once again holstered his gun. “You cocksucker! Open up a fuckin’ dialogue once in while. Jesus!”
“There were…what, four of those guys?” Sundance asked.
Mac put his knife back in his belt (not entirely satisfied with how clean it was) and held up all the digits on his right hand.
“Five…and you did it with a knife?”
Mac nodded.
Butch started laughing, “That’s our boy! I knew Joe recommended you for a reason. There was no way you’d ditch us like that.”
Sundance gave Butch a dirty look but kept quiet.
All three of them walked over to the courier and Butch clipped a small receiver on the wired explosive. He stood up and pushed the button on the pen-sized cylinder. There was a pop, no louder than a .22, and the chain flung off the cuff.
“You know whose drugs those are, right?” Sundance asked Butch.
“Yeah. You know how much they’re worth, right?”
Sundance didn’t respond. He held his stare with Butch.
“Look,” Butch said, “We’ll figure it out, we always do. Let’s just do one thing at a time. First of all, let’s get the hell outta here.”
He picked up the money and the three of them walked to the van.
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