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with the broken hand?  You find him or did he come to you?”
    “Enough talkin’, crazy man.  Shut up.”
    “I just wanna know what lies he told you.”
    “I said shut up!  I ain’t your friend, you fuckin’ scumbag.  One more word and this horse is gonna end up draggin’ your ass the rest of the way!”
    Richard had endured all manner of physical abuse in his days but being dragged by a horse was not one of them so he took the warning seriously.  The most crucial thing he could deduce at that point was that the bounty hunter had kept his identity a secret.  The most likely reason was greed – he didn’t want to share the bounty with anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. 
    The two men walked for another thirty minutes and arrived at what used to be a large gas station.  The pumps had long since been removed and the building had been fortified with iron bars and sandbags.  Virgil dismounted his horse and leveled his shotgun at Richard’s chest.
    “Get on inside.  Walk slow and don’t do nothin’ stupid.  Get within ten feet of me and you die.  Got it?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Morgan!  Get your ass out here, boy!  Got us a prisoner!”
    Richard slowly walked towards the entrance and was greeted by a stocky man in his late twenties.  Richard had the amusing thought that they had arrived at a nightclub and this guy was the bouncer.  Morgan eyed Richard.  “You are one nasty lookin’ sumbitch.  We gonna have any problems outta you, boy?”
    “I’d like a room with a king sized bed and make sure the mini-bar is fully stocked.  You take credit cards?  I don’t have any cash on me.  After I get settled in send your sister up to my room.”
    Morgan laughed.  “I like this guy!  Where’d you find him?”
    “Like you don’t know,” said Virgil.
    “Come on, funny man, the penthouse suite is ready for you.  I’m sure you’re gonna love it.”  Morgan put a firm hand on Richard’s elbow and led him inside.  All of the shelving and merchandise had been cleared out long ago to make room for desks and storage lockers.  At the center of the main room where the cash registers had once been now resembled a judge’s bench from a courtroom.  Richard counted six people walking around and was bothered that not one of them would look at him.  It was as though they were deliberately ignoring him.
    The walk-in freezer had been remodeled into an impressive holding cell.  Richard was shoved inside.  Morgan said, “Get some rest, funny man.  Your friend there tried to bargain with the judge, wanted to split the reward money they got out on you fifty-fifty.  Judge didn’t quite see it that way.  Figured we could handle a war criminal ourselves and collect the bounty.  What the hell’d you do?” 
    Richard said nothing.
    “Fine, don’t say anything.  I think it’s a load of shit, no way you was some big time general.”  The door was slammed shut followed by the clicking of locks.
    Richard turned and looked at his cellmate.  The broken hand he had given the bounty hunter was now the least of his problems.  The pool of blood under his head gave Richard serious doubts as to how he was going to escape.  Suddenly his odds didn’t seem so good.
     

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Maxwell Harris was tired of funerals.  Long ago he had given up on developing close relationships with new people.  He’d grown to respect a handful of people he had met in the last ten years, but the number of people he truly valued as a close friend was in the single digits.  Theodore Forrest had taken the top spot once occupied by Richard Dupree.   When the traitor pissed on the memory of Howard Beck and ran off like a coward, Theodore Forrest insisted on being the one to hunt Dupree to the ends of the earth and bring him back to answer for his crimes. 
    What pained Max the most was that he was now presiding over the second funeral of his dear friend.  When Dupree wiped out Theo’s squad over a year ago and