Filed to story: American Sniper: The Last Round (Carl Oliver) Book PDF Free
“You know, dem boys, dey be, you know, um, dey be hawmping in de woods fer ole gata, lemme tell you, um, dey be hawmping da swamps, shooooo-eee, boy, wif dem, like lights, you know, you know what I’m saying, lights, like, and when dem boys git in reals close, wham, wham!, you know-“
“I hate to tell you,” Nick said, “but I don’t think those are the Beacons. Not unless they started an equal opportunity program.”
“Shit,” said Sloane.
“Man, what are they talking about?” said Till in wonderment.
“Gator hunting, I think. These old backwoods blacks, they go out late at night and attract gators with light, then bop ’em over the head with ax handles. Highly illegal, but they eat the meat and sell the skins and teeth. Poaching. It’s poaching. You guys want to bust ’em for conspiracy to poach? It’s three to five and it’s federal.”
“Shit,” said Sloane again. “I know that guy said it was thirty miles out Parish Five-forty-seven, then left at the dirt road for thirteen miles.”
“I think he was chain pulling,” said Nick. “These old Louisiana cops, you know, they love their pranks.”
“I’m going to report his ass,” said Sloane hotly.
“No, don’t do that. See, he’s got you. You can’t prove it was anything but real and if you make a fuss, you’re the one that looks like the ungrateful ass. Listen, my first year in Gumboland, I spent half my nights on wild-goose chases. This is what passes for sport down here. Those guys are sitting in the back room at The Alligator Club right now, laughing themselves sick, I guarantee you. But you did your job, right? That’s the main thing.”
“Christ, Memphis, you’re a walking testimonial to the human power to forgive.”
“It’s so much easier than being a hard guy. Especially in their town. Now I get along with them pretty well, because I paid my dues and never complained.”
“Ah, let’s get out of here,” said Till.
“Just think, Till, how silly you’d feel if you’d been parked out here in a million-dollar Electrotek 5400. All dressed up and no place to go.”
Both the Secret Service agents laughed, and then Till said, “No way I’m getting hold of an Electrotek unless I go to work for RamDyne, which I just might do.”
Nick said, “RamDyne?”
“You never heard of RamDyne?”
“No.”
“It’s Fed heaven. You fuck up bad, or you get fucked bad, but you’re good, you know, really good, maybe RamDyne gives you a call one night. Then you are on easy street. And you get to do all the stuff the CIA used to do. Interesting stuff.”
“Ah,” said Sloane, “it doesn’t even exist. I hear guys talking about it now and then, but I don’t know a single guy who’s ever gotten that kind of nod.”
“But it’s nice to think of the money, isn’t it?” said Till, dreamily.
Carl came over the rise and looked down the wet tarmac to see the trailer a mile ahead, and the car parked next to it. He drew his parka tighter; the wind pushed into and through it. Next to him, Mike poised, taut, his sloppy jowls tightening, a curl of angry low sound slithering out of his throat.
“Easy, boy,” said Carl, trying to rub some softness into the animal’s tension. He stroked the hard neck and the velvety ears and after a second or so, Mike broke contact with the strangers at the trailer and cocked his head, looking at Carl, puzzlement showing in the deep lakes of his eyes.
“There, guy,” Carl said in a low mutter, “it’s all right. They’re friends,” though a sardonic tone crept into the last word.
He had wondered when they’d be in touch. It was a sleety day; the weather had rushed over the Ouachitas; low clouds rolled angrily by; pellets of ice fell diagonally, cutting the skin, collecting in puddles on the road, while the wind sliced through the trees.
Carl shivered, not quite warm, and pressed ahead.
The colonel sat in the car, reading a newspaper. Payne lounged on the fender.
“Howdy, Payne.”
“Hi ya, Carl. Nice dog.”
“Dogs aren’t nice, Payne. They’re either good or they’re bad, meaning either they stick or they cut. Mike sticks.”
Payne just looked at him, something like a smirk on his dark, blunt features. Carl felt the hostility, but it didn’t particularly bother him. Payne didn’t worry Carl a bit.
“How’s the mouth?”
“My old man hit me harder. He didn’t give me no warning either.”
Payne smiled, showing new dentures.
“All right,” said the colonel, stepping out of the car.
Payne immediately stepped back.
“Get inside, Payne. Wait for me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Payne, sliding obediently into the car.
“Hello, Oliver. How are you?”
“Fine,” said Carl.
“Nice dog,” said the colonel.