Extreme Measures (1991) by Palmer Michael

Author:Palmer, Michael [Michael, Palmer,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-03-18T05:11:27+00:00

“There it is, pal. Beautiful Cleveland, Ohio.”

Eddie Garcia swigged down the last of a thermos of coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was glad to be nearing the end of the run but was anxious about his passenger. Soon, he would have to drop Bob off, point him in the direction of the bus terminal, and go about unloading his rig. The man was no more prepared or equipped to strike out on his own than a kindergartener.

For a time during their journey, Eddie had tried to help him remember something, anything. But beyond recurring references to East Boston, a woman named Gideon, and her horse, he got nowhere. He pressed questions about Bob’s limp and about his hand; he asked about his family, his service record. Nothing. Not even a glimmer. It was as if a razor had sliced cleanly through all connections to his past. For a while, Eddie even gave thought to driving him to Boston. But with a perfect turnaround run awaiting him in Cincinnati, that possibility was out of the question.

He guided the semi off the interstate and began working his way through darkened, successively narrowing streets toward Buckeye Packing. It was three in the morning, an hour before he was due in. He didn’t know his way around the city at all, but there was a bit of time to look for a diner. If they found one, he would spring for one last meal, give Bob thirty or forty bucks, find out directions to the bus terminal, and send him on his way. That was more than most anyone else would be doing in a similar spot.

Bob himself, after sleeping through most of Indiana and Ohio, had awakened just outside of Lorain, and was once more staring out the window. If there were any thoughts going on in his mind, he showed no sign of them. But Eddie could still sense the aura of sadness and bewilderment enveloping him.

“You feelin’ okay?” Eddie asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good, because you’ve got some travelin’ ahead of you. Boston is still a hell of a ways.”

Scott squinted at the passing lights and strained to put together the images swirling through his mind. Nothing connected. Nothing at all.

They turned onto a side street barely wide enough for the rig, and rolled into a broad, deserted flat lined with warehouses and factories.

“Buckeye Packing’s just up this road,” Eddie said.

“That’s good,” Scott said with no emotion.

“I thought we might cruise around and see if we can find us some breakfast.”

Eddie had slowed to less than ten miles per hour when he saw a man standing in the road ahead, waving a stop sign at them. He was dressed in work clothes and a plaid hunting overshirt. Garcia brought the semi to a stop and rolled down the window.

“Mornin’,” he said. “What’s up?”

The man, husky, with close-cropped hair, walked to the window, pulled a revolver from his waistband, and held it two feet from Eddie’s face.

“Open the door,” he growled.

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