Kick Start (Dangerous Ground 5)

by Josh Lanyon

  Well, it sorta sounded like Will was trying to talk himself into the idea. Trying to convince them both that this trip was going to be great.

  “Fine by me.” Taylor took a mouthful of coffee. He set his mug down and said, “But are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to break the news to your kid brother on your own?”

  Will stared at him. “What news?”

  “That you’re pitching for the other team.”

  Will took a moment before he said, “I’m not sure that Grant doesn’t already know.”

  “If you’re not sure, then no, he doesn’t know.” Not if Grant was anything like Will.

  Another silence. Sometimes it was like panning for gold. At last, Will said, “Grant’s shipping out overseas. I don’t know when I’m going to see him again. I would like him to know you. At least meet you. So, the answer to your question is no. But it might get awkward for you. I don’t know. If it is, we’ll stay in town.”

  “No worries. I’ve got a thick hide.”

  There was a little sparkle in Will’s eyes as he said gravely, “You know, I seem to recall you’ve got one or two…sensitive spots.”

  Taylor’s mouth quirked.

  “There’s the back of your knees, the inside of your elbows…”

  Taylor noisily slurped his coffee.

  “And that thing you like me to do to your nip —”

  “Okay, Brandt! Enough.”

  Will laughed.

  When breakfast was over, they washed up, put the trash out, packed. It didn’t take them long. They were used to traveling and traveling light, so it was just a matter of throwing a couple of changes of clothing in their bags, dumping the perishables from the fridge, and finding their much neglected fishing rods.

  They stowed their gear in the back of Will’s Toyota Land Cruiser, gave Riley — uneasily watching their preparations — permission to come aboard, and were on the road by half past noon to the accompaniment of Emmylou Harris.

  The CD was an old one. Luxury Liner. An album Will had played a lot when they had first been partnered, and Emmylou’s bell-clear voice was familiar and sort of comforting even when she was singing about love lost forever.

  Making believe that you still love me

  It’s leaving me alone and so blue

  They didn’t talk much; both of them had a lot on their minds, but the quiet was relaxed and easy, and they knew and were used to each other’s silences.

  Taylor took the first stretch of driving. He knew Will was still stiff and sore from his Starsky and Hutch routine the day before. It was a long drive, and it would be even longer for Will.

  “What do you plan on saying to Richard?” Will broke the silence of the last one hundred miles.

  “I haven’t worked it out yet.”

  “But you seem pretty sure he’ll cough up the cash.”

  Taylor nodded.

  “He seemed like an okay guy, the one time I met him.” Will sounded thoughtful.

  “Yeah. He’ll give us the money, don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” He could feel Will watching him. Will added after a minute, “So long as you’re still okay with this. Because if you’re not —”

  “I’m fine with it, Will.” He knew he should explain, but he hated to talk about this stuff, about anything to do with his dad. Will knew the bare bones, of course. That Taylor’s parents had split up because Taylor’s college professor dad was a drunk and, in Taylor’s mom’s opinion, a complete loser. His mom had made sure to marry for success the next time around.

  He didn’t blame her for that. And he didn’t blame Richard for being everything his own dad wasn’t — couldn’t — be. But if there was any other way, he wouldn’t be calling Richard for help. No drama. He just…wouldn’t.

  They stopped for gas outside of Stockton. Will jammed the pump nozzle into the Land Cruiser and took Riley for a walk while Taylor went inside the mini-mart and stocked up on coffee, bottled water, peanuts and granola bars. He rounded a disheveled- looking magazine stand, frowsy covers featuring buxom women, muscle-bound hunks, and souped-up cars all fluttering in the blast from the glass door air curtains, and came face to face with a burly guy in a black leather jacket and mirrored sunglasses.

  Different breed, but same species as himself.

  The skin on the back of Taylor’s neck prickled. They eyed each other for a moment, the other man cradling his pretzels and blue slushy. Taylor nodded curtly, stepped around him.

  The other man stuck to the back of the store while Taylor paid for his purchases; Taylor could see him in the round mirror behind the cashier. Not skulking exactly, but certainly keeping in the background.

  Taylor gathered up the coffees and the bag of snacks, strolling out through the glass door. There was a black Porsche parked at the front curb. California plates. 2GRR313. He memorized it, carrying the coffees and bag to the Land Cruiser.

  Will was across the road, throwing a ball to Riley in a dirt lot. Unhurriedly, Taylor unlocked the Land Cruiser, set the bag inside. He paid for the gas, replaced the pump nozzle. He opened the back hatch, found his bag, found his SIG within the bag, and tucked it in the waistband of his Levi’s. It nestled reassuringly in the small of his back.

  Still no sign of the convenience store’s other customer. Taylor walked around, opened the driver’s door, got behind the wheel, and started the Land Cruiser’s engine. He idled for a second or two, waiting, but when there was no sign of his quarry, he pulled away from the pump and drove across the road.

  Will whistled to Riley and came to meet him.

  Riley leaped onto the backseat, panting cheerfully. Will slammed the door behind him, opened the passenger seat door and said, “Did you want me to drive?”

  “No. Get in.”

  Will got in, buckled up, saying mildly, “National emergency?”

  “I think maybe we’re being followed.”

  “You’re kidding.” Will studied his profile. “You’re not kidding.”

  “No.” Taylor put the Land Cruiser into drive. “Did you happen to notice that black Porsche behind us on the five?”

  “You think we’re being followed by a guy in a Porsche? That’s not exactly inconspicuous.”

  “I don’t think he’s the inconspicuous type.”

  Will studied the mini-mart as they drove past. “I don’t see the driver anywhere.”

  Taylor lifted a shoulder.

  “Okay,” Will said, declining to argue with what Taylor was not bothering to articulate. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a map. Very old school in these matters, Will. “You want me to find us a back road?”

  Taylor nodded, watching the rearview. The mini-mart door opened and the man in black stepped out, looking after them. “He’s on the move.”

  “I see him.”

  Taylor glanced at Will. “They had wasabi peas in the mini-mart.”

  Will was watching his side mirror. “Well, then it’s all for the best.”

  “They’re probably a million years old.”

  “Just makes them more of a delicacy right? Are you packing?”

  “Yep.” Taylor said ruefully, “I’m probably paranoid. He still hasn’t pulled out of the driveway.”

  “Take a left up here on Bannerman Road.”

  Taylor took a left on Bannerman. Will navigated the next few miles of back roads and then they were back on the Interstate. Taylor put the pedal to the metal.

  “No sign of Mr. Black,” reported Will after a time as they flew past cattle ranches and the occasional billboard.

  “I guess I’m just edgy,” said Taylor.

  “Maybe. What put you on edge?”

  “Just a feeling in my gut. He knew me.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” Will didn’t bother to argue or point out all the obvious non-alarming possibilities. He trusted Taylor’s instinct. “You want to get a motel for the night or drive on through?”

  “Up to you.”


  “Let’s drive.”

  Taylor nodded.

  The sun was setting, the sky turning a hectic orange and indigo, the golden California hills fading into anonymous brown and gray shadows.

  There was no sign of Mr. Black on the road behind them. No sign that anyone was paying any particular attention to them, and now both Taylor and Will were keeping an eye out for patterns in the traffic around them.

  “I’m surprised Gretchen would recognize you,” Taylor said abruptly. He kept circling back to this. It bothered him. It especially bothered him because he’d mostly forgotten about Gretchen.

  “Maybe she has a good memory for faces.”

  “Maybe. Did you recognize her?”

  “I did when she started screaming.”

  “But you must get that a lot?”

  Will briefly turned his gaze to Taylor. “Ha.”

  Taylor smirked, but returned to his line of thought. “I’ve got a pretty good memory for faces, but I don’t think I’d be able to pick Gretchen out of a lineup. Not if I didn’t know I was looking for her.”

  “I can tell you this, she was as surprised to see me, as I was to see her.”

  Taylor mulled that over. “Okay. So running into her was random.” He didn’t like coincidences.

  “I think so.”

  “The fact that she recognized you? That means she did some checking up on us after New Mexico.”

  “It’s possible. Hedwig did say Gretchen was a girl who held onto a grudge.”

  “I wonder if losing us our jobs will be enough for her.”

  Will looked his way again. “You think she might come after us?”

  “It’s been known to happen.” Taylor’s thoughts shied away from the memory of Alexandra Sugimori. He’d made his share of enemies through the years, and his experience was that enemies had long memories.

  “You think Gretchen sent someone after us?”

  “Not very likely, is it?”

  “No.” Will added, “But maybe we should do a little checking up on Gretchen when we get back to L.A.”

  “That’s my thought.”

  “While we’re at it, maybe we should find out if Bashnakov is still in prison.”

  Taylor’s gaze met Will’s grim one.

  Will glanced over his shoulder and studied the road for a long moment. “If someone was back there, I think we’ve lost them.”

  “Yeah.”

  Will reached over and squeezed Taylor’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’ll find you someone else you can shoot.”

  Surveillance Report

  Case #3433BR

  Subjects: Brandt, William and MacAllister, Taylor

  Investigator: Schwierskott

  November 13, 2013 (Wednesday)

  7:00 a.m.:

  Investigator arrives at the residence of Taylor MacAllister and William Brandt located at 1041 Cornwall Lane in Ventura, CA 93001. Investigator observes no vehicles are present at the residence and establishes stationary vehicle surveillance with a view of the driveway of the residence.

  8:00 a.m.:

  NO ACTIVITY

  9:00 a.m.:

  NO ACTIVITY

  10:00 a.m.:

  NO ACTIVITY

  11:00 a.m.:

  NO ACTIVITY

  11:28 a.m.:

  Investigator observes the side security gate of the MacAllister residence open. Investigator observes a blue 2010 Toyota Land Cruiser (California License Plate 2GNH635: currently registered to William Brandt exit the driveway of the residence and depart the area. Investigator observes Mr. MacAllister (Caucasian male, 33 years old, shaved, black hair) is driving the vehicle. Mr. Brandt (Caucasian male, 31 years old, shaved, brown hair) is a passenger in the vehicle. Subjects appear relaxed and unhurried. Investigator initiates mobile surveillance of the vehicle.

  3:13 p.m.:

  Investigator observes the blue 2010 Toyota Land Cruiser enter the parking lot designated for the El Dorado 76 located at 8 Mile Road in Stockton CA 95209 and pull up in front of the gas pumps. Investigator observes Mr. Brandt exit the vehicle with a German shepherd dog and cross the street to a deserted lot to play fetch. Investigator observes Mr. MacAllister exit the vehicle and enter the mini-mart. Investigator initiates stationary vehicle surveillance with a view of the entrance/exit of the building and the deserted lot.

  3:27 p.m.:

  Investigator observes Mr. MacAllister exit the mini-mart carrying two cups and a brown paper bag and proceed to the blue 2010 Toyota Land Cruiser. Investigator observes Mr. MacAllister pay for gas and enter the vehicle. Investigator observes Mr. MacAllister pull across the street. Investigator observes Mr. Brandt and dog enter the vehicle.

  3:30 p.m.:

  Investigator observes Mr. MacAllister driving away at a speed estimated in excess of 70 miles per hour. Investigator was unable to pursue due to the arrival of a big rig truck which pinned in investigator’s vehicle.

  3:35 p.m.:

  Investigator is forced to terminate surveillance.

  Chapter Three

  It was raining.

  More of a mist than actual rain, but it was most definitely wet, and Will spared a moment’s regret for Taylor who did not like rain or the cold. Then they topped the rise, and the house seemed to materialize before them. Will experienced an almost painful sensation of time standing still. He could have been a kid of seventeen again, driving home in his truck after football practice.

  “Wow,” Taylor said, beside him. “Your dad built that himself?”

  The house was constructed of lathe turned hand-peeled logs. It was a rambling, two- story ranch-style, with a long front deck and a wide covered back porch. The front gable dormer windows offered the always breathtaking view of the surrounding mountains and pine forest. Smoke wisped from the fireplace, ghostly against the dark trees and darker mountains. The many windows reflected the smoky purple sunset.

  Will answered, “When he got out of the marines, yeah. My dad and my Uncle Grant and my Uncle John.”

  “It’s beautiful. Really beautiful.”

  Growing up, Will had taken home for granted, but seeing the place through Taylor’s eyes, he realized it was beautiful. Just looking at it gave him a lump in his throat.

  He grinned. “Relieved?”

  “Hell, yeah. This looks like there might even be indoor plumbing.”

  “There is, but we only use it for special occasions.”

  “No worries,” Taylor said. “A real man can hold it.”

  Will laughed. He’d teased Taylor about the place being a log cabin. Or maybe subconsciously he’d made it sound worse than it was to discourage Taylor from coming. He hoped that wasn’t true, but there was no denying he could feel himself tensing now that the moment of truth was upon them.

  Riley stood on the backseat, tail wagging furiously, tags jingling. Will glanced back at him. “You know where you are, don’t you?” Will asked him. “You recognize this place.”

  Riley licked his chops.

  Will drove up the hill and parked in front of the double garages beneath the open deck at the front of the house. He turned off the engine, cutting Emmylou off. The silence was instant and profound. Just the ticking of the falling rain.

  He could feel Taylor looking at him and he wished — and was immediately ashamed — that he could have made this trip alone. Or arrived first. Something. He’d told his dad he was bringing Taylor, but he’d left it at that, and now he wished he’d given more of a clue as to what that really meant. He should have prepared them, his dad and Grant, for this.

  Not least because he was liable to dump Taylor in an embarrassing situation.

  And yet at the same time he was glad Taylor was here. He wanted Taylor to meet his family. Wanted Taylor to see where he’d grown up. So he unsnapped his seatbelt, turned to Taylor, and smiled. It was probably a grim sort of smile because Taylor studied him and then said, “If you want me to be your fishing buddy this weekend, I can do that.”

  Will fel
t his face redden. “I hope you’re kidding, MacAllister.”

  Taylor didn’t answer, just kept watching him with those enigmatic green eyes.

  “Hell no, I don’t want that!”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t want that. I’m not in the goddamned closet!”

  “You are up here, Brandt.”

  It was a jolt to hear it. In particular, a jolt to hear it from Taylor. Will said, “Look, I want my dad and my brother to know…you. Us. I’m not going to pretend we’re anything but what we are. And I appreciate what you’re offering in an unconditional support kind of way, but I don’t want that from you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean, I want support, yeah. I don’t want you thinking you need to support me by encouraging me to be gutless.”

  Taylor said again, mildly, “Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Incoming. Six o’clock.”

  Will ignored that, reaching over, locking his hand on the back of Taylor’s neck. He drew Taylor forward for a quick, hard kiss.

  The next minute Will was out of the SUV, raising a hand in greeting to his father and brother, who were walking down the wide fieldstone path to meet them. He opened the passenger door so Riley could jump down. Riley immediately sprang away to greet Roxie, his sister. Roxie greeted him by trying to chew his face, her tail wagging as furiously as Riley’s.

  Will was aware, as always, of Taylor in his peripheral vision, taking his time getting out of the SUV, giving Will time to go ahead and do his meet and greet. He strode up the hillside to meet his dad.

  “Son.” Bill Brandt was in his early sixties. They were the same height, but his father was a little heavier and a lot grayer since the last time Will had seen him. Even his dad’s mustache was iron gray.

  “Pop,” he said gruffly.