CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
At Shapiro’s Hideout
Riding without stopping, Nolan makes good time, taking a direct route because he assumes, rightly as it turns out, that no one knows the position of Shapiro’s hideout.
At the entrance to the deserted gold mine, a swarthy, big-bellied man stands chewing on a cheroot. The Winchester he carries is looped over one forearm and his eyes flicker left and right, forever watchful.
Nolan sees the man from a distance and slows down to a gentle walk, raising his hand as he calls out, “Don’t shoot, it’s me – Nolan!”
The big man is already going into a crouch as he calls back into the depths of the mine for his boss to come out and see who has arrived. The Winchester, now snapped up to his face, is unerringly focused on Nolan.
“Ah, my good friend,” says Shap
