The peasants had refused to give up his quarry, but he was not persuaded by the lawman's arguments about the gringo dying in the desert, unobserved. Rivera felt his prey in Santa Rosa, knew that they were close, and if the people of the town would not cooperate, he would be forced to search the hamlet door-to-door until he found the soldier, trussed him like an animal, and took him home for the amusement of his troops. If he could not find out who had employed the man, Rivera thought that he might try another tack. It might be fun to issue invitations, bring his chief competitors together for a demonstration of his vengeance on the gringo warrior. One of them, at least, would get the message; all of them would realize that he was no one to be trifled with.

But first Rivera had to find the man.

He checked his watch again and saw that it was time. The townspeople had ignored his offer, spurned his generosity, and now the time had come for them to pay. It was a lesson Rivera knew he would enjoy.

He summoned Hector from his table near the diner's entrance, issued orders for the sweep to be initiated, starting from the north. Half of the gunners were to stay with him, securing the diner, while the others worked the street, checking every shop and home in turn. Before they finished, he would have his man in the bag, and then he would be free to finish with the peasants who had dared defy him.

Beckoning the waitress to his table, he requested beer and smiled at her, excited by the fear he saw behind her eyes. Again, Rivera thought that it might be amusing if she came with him to Sonora for a while. She would resist, but he would offer her an option: life or death. Reduced to basic terms, the most unpalatable notions grew persuasive, and if she resisted him in bed, so much the better. He enjoyed resistance, to a point; it made the ultimate surrender that much sweeter.

He waited for her to return and then ordered food. Rivera was not hungry, but he liked to watch her work, and he would have to keep his strength up for the test to come. They might be challenged yet, by one or another of the locals, and he wanted to be ready for the challenge, if and when it came. He might enjoy a contest, come to think of it... provided that the outcome could be guaranteed. It would not do for him to be embarrassed by the residents of Santa Rosa, not when so much was at stake.

He turned to face the diner's broad front window, watching Hector as he issued orders to the troops. The wholesale killing would not start until they had their man, but in the meantime, any obvious resistance would be dealt with harshly and irrevocably. If the townspeople wanted war, he would provide them with the opportunity for martyrdom. It was the very least that he could do, and it would be a pleasure.

And while he waited, there was still the waitress, curiously childlike and appealing in her linen uniform. Rivera teased himself with mental images of her, at home in his estancia. She might be good for more than momentary dalliance. She might...

But he was being foolish now. She was nothing, no more than a trifle in the scheme of things. Rivera might find time to play with her a little, but he dared not make more of her than she was. If he attached undue importance to the woman, he would have to think of her as human, and it would be that much harder to dispose of her when it was time. He could not let himself become attached to anyone or anything that he might later have to throw away.

Outside, his men were dispersing, moving out to start the sweep that could have only one result: the capture of his enemy and destruction of the tiny town that had inadvertently sheltered him. He felt no pity for the town; it had been dying over time, by slow degrees, and now Rivera had arrived to end its misery. He was performing something of a public service, eliminating what had come to be a laughingstock, an eyesore on the highway. In death the crossroads hamlet would achieve a fleeting place in history before it faded, out of sight and out of mind. Its fate would rank along with other legends of the desert: Superstition Mountain, the Lost Dutchman mine, the Seven Cities of Gold. For a time, men would speak the name of Santa Rosa with a kind of wonder, speculating on the perpetrators of amassacre that would make history. And gradually, when no answers were forthcoming, it would be forgotten like the desert's other unsolved mysteries.

In time.

Rivera was concerned about the present. If he could not unearth his quarry, it would matter little what became of Santa Rosa. With the gringo bastard still at large, his operation would remain in constant jeopardy from unknown enemies. If they could penetrate his best defenses once, they would be capable of doing it a second time, keeping on until they finished with him, left him empty, ruined, like the peasant he had been in childhood. Scowling, Rivera took a silent oath that he would not allow himself to be defeated by the faceless enemy. He would prevail and force the opposition to acknowledge his supremacy before he snuffed them out like cockroaches beneath his feet.

Rivera thought that it would be a pleasure. And, in any case, he owed it to himself.

Two hours out of Santa Rosa, Johnny Bolan had to stop for gas. The station was a weathered, two-pump pit stop on the edge of nowhere, manned by a proprietor who seemed to have absorbed the brutal sun for years on end, his skin becoming taut and as brown as leather. Johnny left the guy to fill his tank and wipe the dead insects off the windshield, making for a phone booth tucked around the side. There was no trace of a directory, but Johnny punched up Information, receiving the area code for Santa Rosa, along with the numbers for the constable, a clinic and the only service station in the town. With quarters stacked in front of him, he tried them all... and each time heard a busy signal droning in his ear.

He gave it up and called the operator to get assistance with the call. He let her have the clinic's number, waited while she patched it through and grimaced as a recorded voice came on the line. "We're sorry," it informed him, "but your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up, then check your number and try again. If you still cannot complete your call..."

"I'm sorry, sir," the operator broke in, interrupting the recording. "All our circuits into Santa Rosa show up busy at the present time."

"Is that unusual?"

"I really couldn't say."

He fought the urge to curse and shout at her, aware that it would gain him nothing. "Let's assume it is unusual," he said. "And let's assume that everybody didn't use their phones at once, okay? Is there another reason why the lines might show a busy reading?"

"Hypothetically, if there was damage to the lines, they might report as busy, sir."

"In that case, I would like to file a damage report and request immediate repair service."

"Are you in Santa Rosa, sir?"

"Of course not. How could I be calling Santa Rosa if I was in Santa Rosa."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you must be in Santa Rosa to request repairs on lines in Santa Rosa."

"How can I request repairs from Santa Rosa if the lines are down?"

"I'm sorry, sir..."

"Can you at least break in and see if anybody's on the lines from Santa Rosa?"

"We are not permitted to intrude on private conversations, sir, except in cases of emergency."

"All right. I'm Dr. Joseph Gray, and I have urgent business with the Santa Rosa Clinic. I take full authority for any inconvenience you might cause by breaking in..."

"I'll have to get permission from my supervisor, sir."

"How long will that take?"

"If you'll just hold on a moment, sir..."

The Jimmy had been gassed, its windshield cleaned and it was ready for the road. He slammed down the telephone receiver, aware that he could be in Santa Rosa by the time he got in touch with someone who had both authority and guts enough to break in on the busy lines from Santa Rosa. And if back-checks from a distance proved the lines were down, then what? The process would have wasted precious time, and gained him nothing. While he waited on the phone to speak with faceless supervisors, Mack was trapped in Santa Rosa, maybe fighting for his life.