An ideal place, Sutton told himself, to execute an ambush.
Adams, he wondered. Although, it hardly could be Adams. He had something that Adams expected to find out and killing the man who holds information that you want, no matter how irate you may be at him, is downright infantile.
Or those others that Eva had told him of…the ones who had Benton conditioned and all set to kill him.
They tied in better than Adams did, for Adams wanted him to stay alive, and these others, whoever they might be, were quite content to kill him.
He dropped his hand in his coat pocket as if searching for a cigarette and his fingers touched the steel of the gun he had used on Benton. He let his fingers wrap around it and then pulled them away and took his hand out of the pocket and found the cigarettes in another pocket.
Not time yet, he told himself. Time later on to use the gun, if he had to use it, if he had a chance to use it.
He stopped to light the cigarette, dallying, taking his time, playing for time.
The gun would be a poor weapon, he knew, but better than none at all. In the dark, he probably couldn't hit the broad side of a house, but it would make a noise and the waiting men were not counting on noise. If they hadn't minded noise, they could have stepped out minutes ago and mowed him down.
"Ash," said Johnny, "there is another man. Just in that bush ahead. He expects to let you pass and then they'll have you three ways."
Sutton grunted. "Good, tell me exactly."