Knock, Knock...Who's There...Sam and Billy!

Before either of them knew it, the two big men were involved in a test of strength. Sam's arm was drawn back, huge fist doubled up and looking to the little cabbie about the size of a canned ham. Billy had hold of Sam's arm, muscles bunched, straining. The opposing forces being applied were delicately balanced, to say the least. If Sam got loose or Billy's grip slipped, Pancho would most likely be viewing the world through his navel.

Billy:  You wanna see that family you keep pissin' and moanin' about, there,
compadre, you better get this piece-a-shit cab movin'...I don't know how
much longer I can hold 'im.

Pancho was desperate to get out of this one.  He must have been closely
identifying with a wishbone at that moment.  He tried another tack.

Pancho:  But I do not know the address you seek, Senors.

Sam:  You just told us you could find it, goddammit!  Which is it?

Pancho:  Senors...my wife...my children...if anything happens to me they
have no-one.

Billy:  We better shit or get off the pot here, son.  Man's turnin' angry.

Pancho:  This is a bad place you wish to go to...a very bad place...

Billy:  And we're a couplea damn bad boys.

Sam:  Speak for yourself, Strannix.

Pancho:  ...there can be nothing there that Senors like yourselves could
want...

Sam pictured Beth's sweet face, cut and bruised.  Nothing there he
could want?  He fought to pull his arm out of Billy's grip.

Billy:  Take it easy, Dawg.  Little dude don't know.

Pancho:  It is a place of death, Senors.

Billy:  Sam!

It was the first time Billy had ever called Sam anything but Dawg or
Barn or Babalooey...and it got Sam's attention faster than anything else 
could have.

Sam:  Don't you understand, you stonebrained sonofabitch?  I can't
take it easy!  Not until I get her back!  Not until I know she's safe!

Billy:  I can't believe I'm the one tellin' you this, but it ain't the
way!

Sam:  Then tell me what is!  The bastard has your woman and you don't seem
to give a good goddam.

Billy stepped close to Sam, went nose to nose with him, spoke in a
menacing tone that made Sam listen.

Billy:  You go on in and get your girl out and stew about a couplea little
scratches that'll be gone in a week.  My girl's gonna be limpin' for weeks,
probably be better than a damn weatherman for the rest of her life.  I'm
takin' that outa Julio's ass.  And I can't do it if you don't stand the
hell down!  That's how I get my business done.  Now turn this dumb little
shit loose and let's go get those women!

Pancho was flung abruptly into a chain-link fence.  Billy fell into the 
driver's seat of the car, Sam landed in the passenger seat.  Billy dropped
the groaning transmission into drive.

Billy:  Keep y'damn shirt on, Pancho, you'll get this shitbox back and a
little extra.  Where is the damn dump?

Pancho gave some simple directions, then scuttled back to the taxi stand
to wait.  He watched in dismay as Billy erased most of what was left of his
tires on takeoff.

Sam:  Where?

Billy:  'Bout five, six miles outsidea BFE's city limits.  Fifteen minutes, 
we should be sittin' down to breakfast.

Sam:  Make it ten.

Billy's response was to stand on the accelerator, sending pedestrians, 
goats, chickens, iguanas, mules and Christ only knew what else diving for cover.  There were no springs in the car at all, and what they were driving
on could only charitably be called a road, and so once they left Santa 
Marta proper, Sam was bouncing off what was left of the headliner while it
was all Billy vould do to hang on to the wheel.

Billy:  Check the loads, Dawg.

Sam:  Done.  Which way we goin' in?

Billy:  Same way the rest of Julio's friends do.  Front door.

Billy wasn't exaggerating.  the road improved measurable the closer 
they got to Julio's.  Billy was able to execute an impressive power slide 
right into the front gate turn in.  He leaned out the window, and calmly 
shot the two guards coming out of the guard shack.

Billy:  Damn sloppy security, there, jefe.  It's gonna cost ya.

Billy monkeyed his way over the gate and, kicking the bleeding bodies
aside, hit the gate opener.  He stepped into the guard-shack and busied 
himself with a few minor details.  There was a security camera, well 
concealed in a corner and hard wired into the wall.  Billy cut the wire,
then turned to shoot out the computer terminal.  The implosion of the 
monitor made a satisfying bang.

Billy:  Always wanted to do that.  C'mon, Dawg.  They hear us knockin',
'bout time they figure out we already got in.

Sam busied himself cutting phone lines while Billy hunted briskly through
the nearby underbrush for a minute or two.  A pleasued grunt alerted Sam.

Sam:  What?

Billy:  Transformer.  Hand me one of them...

Billy gestured vaguely at the bodies.  Both dead men had been armed with
assault rifles.  Sam grabbed the gun off of the nearest corpse.

Sam:  Looks like a Kalashnikov.

Billy:  Knock off.  Cuban made.  Jams up when ya look at it sideways, but
it'll do for this.

Billy put a short burst into the gray canister, there was a fierce, brief
shower of sparks, some small fires in the surrounding greenery.  Sam stamped
them out.

Billy:  C'mon, Smokey the Bear, let's go.  There's guards all over the
place.  Shoot on sight.  Not to wound, either.

Sam:  I...

Billy:  Look here, Dawg, you want that woman, you just upped the ante.  I'm
gettin' the punk out.  I take a few of these assholes while I do, too damn 
bad.  What do you wanna uphold more - your honor or hers?  You see anything
that ain't me, shoot its ass.  Clear?

Sam merely nodded.  He could see the sense of Strannix' words, and Sam
had not been trained to dither while on an assignment.  This was a side of
Strannix he had been told existed but had never seen - the cool operative
doing whatever was necessary to carry the mission off.  Mostly what Sam had
seen was Strannix happy-assholing around having a good old time.

Billy:  Let's do it, then.

Beth and I awakened to the sounds of panic.  There were shouts, running
feet and the sound of gunfire.  And when Beth flicked the switch on the
cheap lamp between out cots, there was nothing.

Beth:  What the hell?

Deb:  Consolidated Edison - South is having some technical difficulties. 
The goat at the copper wire on the transformers again, I don't know.

We heard heavy pounding on the thick door not far above our heads.  The
walls in the house were so solid that we should have been unable to hear 
anything at all, but a small window had been carved into the foundation 
above our heads to provide light and air, and it was this that we heard
things through.

Beth:  Augh!  What's that damn pounding in my head!

Deb:  I hear it, too.  Ain't in your head.  Somebody sellin' girlscout 
cookies.

Beth:  Hope it's a couplea damn big girlscouts.

From upstairs the sound of fighting and gunfire grew somehow louder.

Billy:  Oh, HOOOOOOOlyooooooooooo.....yoohoo!!  Come on out, buddy!  Got
somethin' for ya!!!

Sam:  BETH!!!!

Deb:  Hey...I think it's the Avon Lady.

Beth:  Oh, goodie!  I'm out of concealer.

Deb:  The hell with concealer...I want some men's briefs...with a big man in
'em.

I heard Beth attempting to stand.  She took a step or two, hooked her
foor on the cotframe and stumbled into the door.

Beth:  Shit!  Walk much, Wilson?

Deb:  A seeing eye dog'd be smashin' into stuff in here.  BILLY!!!!  We're
down here!!!

Beth:  SAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!!

Sam:  BETH!!!!  BABY!!!!!  

Deb:  Quit havin' so much fun up there and come get us!! BILLY!!!!

Beth:  I'm in the basement!!!  SAM!  It's dark, be careful!

After several more minutes of fighting and yelling, we heard footsteps
coming down the stone steps.

Sam:  Baby?  Down here?

We kept pounding.

Beth:  Follow the sound, Sam!

Billy:  Go to the left, Dawg.  Yell if you find 'em.  Use your flashlight.

Sam:  What, I'm a damn fool?  Beth, I'm on my way!

Beth:  We better back away...

Billy had already found the door.  He had been trained to operate in low
light, no light situations, and found it easier to use his other senses in
conjunction with his eyes.  For all we know, he might have followed out 
faint scent.

Billy:  Hey, punk?  Say sumpin'.

Deb:  Billy?

Billy:  Gerard!  Over here!  You two get the hell back from that door.

Beth scooted back.  I tried, but while the upper half was more than
willing, the lower half was obstinate as hell.  I fell away, taking Beth
down with me and unleashing a horrible scream.  Sam was just coming up to
the door as I did, but Billy, for some reason, was able to kick the thing 
in on his own, and the both of them gave it the bum's rush.  Sam's 
flashlight illuminated the room.

Sam:  Beth?  Baby...

Beth:  Sam, Sam, Sam...

Sam dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor and Beth scrambled into
his arms.  She took up her accustomed place under his chin, sighed deeply
and contentedly, and held him tightly.  He rose to his feet, and she stood
with him, but he made no move to let her go.  Billy had gone sprawling,
planting a booted foot solidly against my poor, beleaguered ankle. I 
yelled again.  Billy had erased the other knee of his jeans, he was bleeding
in half a dozen places, and he looked like he was having a hell of a time.
He rolled over and looked at me.

Billy:  Take my eyes offa you for two seconds...

Deb:  I think I could say the same...I'm so glad you're here, what the hell
took you so long...my ankle hurts, I think it's broken, and I can't stand
on it and I don't know how I'm gonna get out of here and...what are you
doing?

Billy had taken my leg in his two big hands and was gently examining it.
He determined for himself that the leg wasn't going to take any more abuse,
then slid one arm beneath my shoulders and the other under my knees and
stood in one continuous, slow, sensuous movement.

Deb:  Billy, put me down, I'll kill your back...you'll kill your back...
just call me Hopalong, I can manage that much and...William, I'm serious...

Billy:  She talks too much.  Gerard, don't this punk talk too much?

Sam:  I'd say.

Billy:  Punk, anybody tell ya ya talk too much?

Deb:  You do, all the time...

Billy did something he had never done outside the privacy of home...he
kissed me, deeply and hungrily.  Beth stared in astonishment.  She had
known for some time that what Bill felt for me was much greater than
simple lust...but this was the kind of thing that would give evidence to
her suspicions and she had never seen it.  Now she was seeing it.  Fingers
found the side of a breast, spread and engulfed the soft flesh.  She heard
me groan softly.  This couldn't be allowed to continue...not in this
basement room.

Beth:  Maybe we oughta think about getting the hell out of here.

Billy continued on in good order.  I was relaxing, becoming pliant, 
forgetting for the moment the pain in my ankle.

Sam:  STRANNIX!!

Billy backed away partly from the job at hand.

Billy:  What the hell you want?

Beth:  It's time to go, man...this place looks like a dress rehearsal for
Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia.

Billy went in for the kill.  Beth could see my gradual disintegration happening before her eyes.

Sam:  They're gonna have to cut those ratty pants off her at the hospital.
You okay, baby?

Beth:  I'm fine, Sam, just please take me home.  I want to go home.

Sam:  Sure, sweetie, sure.  We'll just leave Casanova there if he doesn't
wanna come along.

I managed to find the moral strength to break free of Billy's wonderful
kisses.

Deb:  Come on, Billy...put me down before you hurt yourself...

Billy:  Ain't lettin' you go again...can't turn my back.

Beth:  We need to get her to a hospital, Billy.

Billy:  Soon as she shuts her goddam mouth.  Gerard, get us outa here
before I hafta whup her again.

Deb:  If that's a whuppin'...?

Sam:  My pleasure.  Ladies?  Airstrip or hospital?

Beth:  Deb, if we can ice that leg down and you can stand it, let's get the
hell outa here.

Deb:  I can stand it.  Let's go.  As long as Billy stays with me.

Billy:  He ain't goin' anyplace.

Sam:  SO?  I'm headed for the airstrip?

Beth:  We're headed for the airstrip.  And home.  And a hospital.  And
food.

Deb:  Food that hasn't been refried.  Refried beans...

Beth:  Refried bananas...

Deb:  Refried jello...

Sam:  What???

Billy:  Drive, Dawg.  Shut up, punk.  Go to sleep.

Sam:  Hold on, then.  I'll go as fast as I can.  Ready?

Beth:  Ready when you are, Samuel.

Sam:  What a piece of shit car, Honey, you buckled in?

Beth:  Aren't any buckles, Sam.

Sam:  Shit.  Damn road hazard.

Deb:  Billy...this really does hurt...could I ask you a big favor?  Just to
make the trip a little easier?

Billy:  Name it, Baby.

Deb:  I really feel stupid saying this...especially to you...but...could
you just...how humiliating...could you just hold me?  I think I'll be
okay then.

Sam:  You blow that off you are the dumbest bastard on legs.  Speaking of
holding people...Beth, slide on over here...I want you under my arm...

Beth snuggled in close, held on to Sam as though it was her last chance 
to do it.

Beth:  I missed you, too, Sam.

Billy pulled me onto his lap, settled me between his knees.

Billy:  I thought you were gonna ask for somethin' hard.

Beth glanced behind her after there had been several minutes of silence,
with no noise even from Bill.  She saw that Deb had gone to sleep in his
arms, and that he had leaned his cheek against her hair and closed his
eyes.  For the first time in a long time, though he probably didn't know
it...he looked happy.

TO BE CONTINUED...Sam really takes Beth home...