COSMOS magazine

Friday, July 4

It would've been kind of funny, Alex thought, if things weren't so desperate: a grown man cowering away from the water like a scared little kid. But it was obviously not at all funny to Wayne. Thinking about his dead brother, for sure. Alex wished he could figure out some way to make Wayne feel better. No time to think complicated stuff right now, the important thing was to get Wayne down here into the water. He could hear the sounds of car engines. The police arriving. No time to waste. Might be too late already.

"Look, it's not a big deal, pardner," Alex called to Wayne, using all his will power to stay calm. "You don't have to know how to swim. All you do is go down and then back up. Nothing to it."

As Wayne took a tentative step toward the water, Paul surfaced with a giant splash. Wayne cringed back from the edge of the pool. Behind the noise of the splash, Alex heard the faint throb of a helicopter.

"Wayne." Paul shouted. "You've got to come down with us. We're all dead if they catch you up there."

The sound of the chopper grew louder. A car door slammed. Alex heaved himself up from the water, onto the concrete deck. Wow! My arms are getting strong. Gotta get Wayne into the water now. Wish Paul had stayed down below.

He caught Paul's eye. "Stay back!" Turned to Wayne again. "Hey, come on, Wayne. We're partners. I won't let anything happen to you. You can go in ahead of me."

Roberta came running toward the pool, brandishing a spray bottle like someone in a cartoon advertisement. It should have looked hilarious, but the reality was frightening, nightmarish. "Hurry it up!" she shouted. "They're coming to the door."

Alex controlled his own fear. "Wayne, remember what we were talking about when we borrowed that truck? Ya gotta stay cool. Concentrate on your work, man!" The man's terrified eyes locked onto Alex's. "Come on, pardner, you can do it." Eyes tight shut, squeezing up his face, Wayne leaped into the pool. Alex was right behind him.

Friday, July 4

I'm going to be okay. Concentrate on your work, Wayne said to himself. Concentrate. Concentrate. But then he had to open his eyes, find the underwater opening, and the cold pressure of the water against his retinas almost caused him to gasp. With the last remnant of his self control, he forced himself not to take a breath. I can't do this. I've gotta go back up. I don't care how they punish me. I deserve it. I'd rather die on dry land than down here. He kicked frantically, and his faced scraped something hard. The edge of the pool. Or the bottom? A small hand closed over his wrist. Robbie. He had to control himself for the kid's sake. With the greatest effort of his life, he forced himself to be still and allow Robbie to pull him through the water. Before he quite realized it, the boy had vanished into a narrow slit in the wall, and he himself was halfway through.

The green pool lights went off.

He wanted to scream in the darkness. Too late to go backwards. No choice left but to kick himself gently forward. The kid would keep him safe. Then his head was above water again, and there was the mother, half hysterical.

"Come on!" she said softly but urgently. "Where the hell is Paul? Damn it, Roberta must have switched the pool lights off."

"He's closing the grate," said Alex in a calm tone. "So they won't find us in case they look in the pool. Are you okay, Wayne?"

The kid really cares about me, Wayne thought in disbelief.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly. Like hell I'm fine. If he didn't get out of the water soon, he'd start to panic again.

"This way, Wayne. Follow my voice. There are steps. How about you scout ahead and see what's in here? Mom and me can wait for Paul." The kid understood. And he cared. A warm tear rolled down his face. He paddled awkwardly toward the unseen steps.

The water began to thrum and vibrate.

"Must be the helicopter landing." Paul's voice. "Or helicopters. Sounds like more than one. Everybody stay calm. We'll be fine down here."

Wayne had never felt anything as comforting as those solid steps, slightly slippery, under his feet in the shallow water. A few steps and he was on dry concrete. He stepped forward cautiously, cursed as he struck heavy steel. Probing with his outstretched fingers, he decided he'd run into the big pump. Huge, solid. Wayne pushed against it in the blackness. It stayed put. It stank of dust and he felt spider webs on his hands. Fuck. Maybe the Treadwell bitch had been lying to them.

Friday, July 4

More cars pulled up in front of Roberta's house. Place looked like the parking lot of a shopping mall the day before Christmas. She glanced at her watch. Unbelievable: not even a minute since Wayne finally vanished into the water. It felt excruciatingly longer, yet not nearly long enough. Had they found their way in? Been able to move the pump? It was decades, probably, since that bootlegger's concealed entrance had been opened. Oh Christ, the automatic lamp would have turned itself on. All she could do was hope that one of them would have the presence of mind to douse it.

She went to the front door.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Treadwell. I have to follow my orders." Joe Waltrip of the Sutton County Sheriff's Department thrust a paper into Roberta's hand and stepped back. She knew Joe, but didn't recognize any of the other men and women spreading out from the vehicles. She scanned the first few lines of the document.

Search Warrant

United States District Court Western District of Texas
SEARCH WARRANT W03-19Y
In the Matter of the Search of residence of Roberta Treadwell, 432 Treadwell Road, Sutton County, TX, its appurtenances, vehicles, underground structures located on entire premises of the 5000 acre tract. See attached photos & property description Attachments A, B and C.

She wished Jill were here to read the thing, or that lawyer friend of hers, Carol Glassman. When she looked up to ask what the police planned to search, half a dozen rifles were pointed at her. Roberta moved back away from the door. Didn't look as though she had a great deal of choice.

A tall, heavy man seemed in charge of the operation. "You'd have been better off if you'd kept things on a friendly level and let us look around before ." He glared at Roberta, began dividing the men and women behind him into groups of three to search specific areas of the house and outbuildings. One of the men had a German Shepherd dog on a leash and carried a child's red slipper. They must have gotten it from Alex's father, she realized. From inside the house, her puppy began barking piteously.

"Are you going to shoot poor little Basil too, same way you murdered Sitka?"

"Ma'm, if you'd please step outside on the porch here, Officer Trejo will stay with you. We'll take good care of your animal. I'm sure I don't need to warn you to remain here quietly, Miz Treadwell. Okay, men, let's get this done." The leader led his own group into the living room.

From the front porch Roberta could hear the scraping sounds of furniture being moved. A crash, a sound of breaking glass. Shaking her head in angry resignation, she looked away from the house, across miles of rocky, mesquite studded land, empty of any sign of human life. Trejo followed her gaze.

"Not much to look at out there," Roberta told him. "They say when the Spanish first explored the region northwest of here, the land was so featureless they had to drive stakes into the ground at intervals so they'd be able to find their way back. In fact the region's known as the Llano Estacado, the Staked Plains."

Trejo was still looking off into the distance. "I never knew that."

Roberta's cell phone chimed. She wished desperately that she could have a moment of privacy, tried walking to the other end of the porch. Of course Trejo followed her.

"Dr. Roberta, it's Maisie. I got your message—"

"We're having a little excitement," Roberta said, using all her willpower to speak slowly and calmly. "The police are here looking for someone. I don't know anything about it or even who the fugitives are. It reminds me of Humberto and Lupe." Roberta felt Trejo watching her. I hope to goodness Maisie gets my drift, she thought. "I've been thinking of my grand-dad, too, and how he was always in trouble..."

Friday, July 4

Standing in the musty darkness, they heard a clatter of distant footsteps. Suddenly, then, it was as if an invisible police force was searching the very corridor they stood in.

"Look at this. It must've cost thousands." A female voice, directly above them. "Can you believe—"

"They say she's worth billions." A male voice with a heavy Texas accent.

Crackling of the radio, and an indistinct male voice saying something about checking in the barn.

We must be directly under the lower level of the house, Jill realized. She hoped the police would not think to search the pool, because it looked like they were stuck here for the duration. They had inspected every inch of the huge pump, heaving at it, prodding in the dark with their fingertips, but the thing refused to budge. She fished out her phone from Alex's backpack, keyed in Roberta's private number.

"Hello?"

"The damn pump's stuck," she whispered.

A pause. In a brisk tone, Roberta said, "I'm busy at the moment, Gerald. I'll arrange for somebody to look into that matter." She disconnected.

Wayne sneezed. Jill jumped, startled, nearly dropped the phone. Damn! Couldn't the idiot at least have tried to muffle it? If she could hear everything happening upstairs, odds were the police upstairs could hear them as well.

Something wet and soft flopped into her left eye. Jill stifled a shriek, slapped at it. Wet gauze fluttered to the floor of the tunnel. Damn. Her bandage had soaked through and peeled away.