The Fourth Option

by Matt Hilton

  She placed her face in her hands, and groaned at the inevitable.

  For years she had lived free of Arrowsake, but she must have known that this day would come. She would have considered her options, and threatening to go to the press with dirty secrets would’ve been one of them. Hell, Rink and me had considered a similar plan, but realised it wouldn’t save us. Sure, while we were in the media spotlight we’d be safe from harm, but the world moves so quickly these days, with opinions shifting rapidly from one day to the next, that we’d either be forgotten or vilified in no time, and fair game for Arrowsake’s killers. Although neither of us was afraid of a fight, and wouldn’t make it easy for our enemies, it wasn’t how we wanted to countenance our futures. We were soldiers, and accepted that each fight we had could be our last, but this modern incarnation of Arrowsake wouldn’t shy away from targeting our friends and families in order to get at us. We’d concluded that there was truth in the old saying “keep your friends close, and your enemies closer”, and had agreed a kind of truce. We wouldn’t meddle in their affairs if they left us alone. Simply by warning Sue, let alone defending her, we were instigating a knock down drag ’em out fight.

  8

  Jason Mercer clutched at the edge of a counter to avoid falling. Vertigo surged over him, followed by nausea and he retched. He stayed supported by the counter for a few seconds, before sinking to the floor. Sweat dripped from his forehead.

  ‘Fuck you all the way to Hell, Jared Rington,’ he groaned.

  His vision swam, and after a moment more he could sense his eyeballs jittering in their sockets. He screwed his eyelids tight, and ran his hands over his face. Another few seconds and he tested his vision and found that the world was jumping back and forth as his damaged brain attempted to regain control of his depth perception. He counted his breaths — in and out, in and out — and finally pushed to his feet. He slapped both palms flat on the counter top, not yet ready to trust his legs to support him.

  Crippling neurological dysfunction had been an aspect of Mercer’s life for so long now that it rarely sent him to his knees anymore, but there were occasions. He’d been shot twice, and each of those bullets should’ve been enough to kill him. He didn’t know the odds he’d bucked, but his chance of survival must have been astronomically slim. One round had taken off a chunk of his ear, and rebounded off the curvature of his cranium, the second had landed cleaner and shattered the occipital bone at the rear of his skull. The trauma to his cerebellum had been significant, and yet he’d defied the reaper. In the first years following surgery he’d struggled with basic motor skills, couldn’t walk without staggering like a lush on a weekend bender, and his voice had slurred so bad even he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. His road to recovery was long and not without bumps. He’d lost portions of his memory, and of his vocabulary, and had to relearn some simple motor skills like how to button his shirt or eat with cutlery. His eye-to-hand coordination was shot to pieces, but with practise over the years he’d regained most of his former skill sets, albeit these days he sometimes was slower to respond to certain stimuli than before. With concentration he could fire a pistol and hit a target, but don’t ask him to draw and aim his weapon too quickly or he’d be likely to drop it. There were times where if he was observed closely that a trembling of his pupils would be noticed, the same with an uncontrollable tremor of his fingers.

  Most days were good now. He could get by, and despite his scars, nobody would guess that he’d survived two bullets to the head. It was only if he was taken by surprise, or struck by alarm, that his symptoms intensified. Ordinarily they weren’t bad enough to drop him to his knees, but the shock at spotting Joe Hunter had set off a neurological time bomb inside him. At first he didn’t credit his eyes; he’d spotted Hunter seated in the foyer, and just as recognition struck the doors of the elevator had swished shut leaving him with a degree of disbelief in his senses, and also sick with anxiety. He had aged, gotten a bit grayer in the hair and had a few more lines around his eyes, but it was Hunter! Why was Hunter there? Was his attendance in the building purely random, or specific to Mercer being there? Hunter hadn’t shown a similar degree of recognition, just continued reading a glossy pamphlet but that meant nothing. If Hunter had followed him there, and had set up surveillance, he wouldn’t have shown surprise. He’d convinced himself that Hunter hadn’t recognised him: why should he? As far as Hunter knew, Mercer had died years ago. Hunter had been there when Rington gunned him down. Even if his features had been familiar, and Hunter had scrutinized them at more length, he’d have concluded he had to be mistaken. Yes, Mercer had managed to convince himself that Hunter’s presence was down to pure chance and the fleeting look he’d gotten at him through the elevator doors — especially when he was partially blocked from view by a businessman — wasn’t enough for Hunter to recognise him.

  His conviction had lasted only until Sue called him with the next shock. She’d returned home to find Hunter and Rington staked out on her street. Hearing that Rink was with Hunter in Panama City was a terrible blow, but unsurprising. From his past experience of them, where one went the other did too. Recklessly she’d confronted them, firing a warning shot at them in the ridiculous notion it’d chase them off. He’d said that she should’ve shot them both dead, but she was having none of that crap, because, she argued, it would’ve made her no better than they were. He’d concurred; killing them outright wouldn’t make their new position any more tenable. He’d warned Sue to flee, but she had to return to her house to fetch what she needed to help disappear again. He had returned to his own apartment for the same reason.

  Unlike Sue, he’d prepared for this day. He didn’t expect Hunter or Rink to be the ones to come after him, but somebody could. He had stocked a bag with all the necessary items he required to run, and more. His cache was hidden in a false compartment at the rear of his bedroom closet, along with a selection of weapons. He’d collected the bag and two pistols and ammunition, and carried them into the kitchen. It was there that the time bomb had detonated and sent him to his knees on the floor. Standing once more, he reached for where he’d set the bag on the counter and dragged it to him.

  He took a last look around at the place he’d called home for the past few years, and felt homesick already. This was the last he’d see of it; now that he’d been flushed out there’d be no returning. He lugged the bag through into the living area, and paused. Is there anything here that could give a determined hunter a clue about where he intended running next? He knew there wasn’t, but he should cover all bases. Maybe he should burn the apartment to the ground, and make sure.

  He shook his head at the absurd notion. A fire would only attract attention, and it was the last thing he wanted right now. He pulled out his cell phone, wondering why Sue hadn’t called yet. She was supposed to return home, grab what she needed and contact him the instant she was clear. He was tempted to call her, check she was OK, but what if she wasn’t the one who answered?

  Was Sue dead already? Worse still, was she alive and being forced to guide his hunters to him?

  Bile spilled into his throat, and again his knees felt on the verge of collapse. He swallowed down the bitterness, and headed out of the front door, towards the adjacent carport. If Hunter and Rink had made Sue’s Mercedes-Benz, they shouldn’t rely on it to get them out of town now. Mercer had a Toyota Camry, one of the most popular cars in the US. It was black, one of the most popular colours. Out on the road the Toyota would be as innocuous as he could hope for, and far less noticeable than Sue’s Merc SUV. If they’d taken Sue alive, Hunter and Rink might force the details of his car from her, but without digging much deeper they wouldn’t learn the license number. He felt that the Toyota would do to get away, and he’d switch to another form of transportation at first opportunity. He aimed the key fob and the lights flashed and he heard the distinctive clunks of the locks disengaging. Only then did he smart at his reckless move. What if his hunters were already here and had rigged the Toyot
a to explode?

  Paranoia was a killer!

  It didn’t matter how pervasive Arrowsake was, finding him and getting a team on the ground to install a car bomb in this short a time was an impossible task. Nevertheless, as he approached the car, it was tentatively. He eased open the driver’s door, and when he was still alive a few seconds later, he allowed a held in breath to slip out. He chucked his bag across onto the passenger seat. Then turned to check around.

  His duplex-style apartment was at the end of a row of six, in the residential neighbourhood of Wainwright Park on the west side of Panama City. It wasn’t situated at the most defensive of locations, but it gave quick access to US Highway 98. He could be across Grand Lagoon via Hathaway Bridge in minutes, and on the road to Pensacola in no time. They’d discussed an escape plan before, agreeing that if they were split up, they should meet in Pensacola. He’d agreed with Sue that they’d wait for each other at University Town Plaza for two hours maximum; if either was a no show then they’d move to their next rendezvous point across the stateline in Mobile, Alabama. Mercer knew there was several car rental dealerships located in the mall at the plaza, and decided he’d swap his Toyota there for the ongoing drive. From there it was only a short journey to Mobile Downtown Airport, and ordinarily switching cars could be an unnecessary step in his getaway plan, but it’d help muddy the waters. After Mobile he’d no real idea where they’d flee next, that was probably down to which flights were due to leave with available seats.

  There were a few people about. Lights had begun to come on in neighbouring homes. There were no suspicious glances aimed at Mercer, and from what he could tell no unfamiliar vehicles parked in the street. Anyone spying on him wouldn’t be obvious, but with the short timescale since Sue had her run in with Hunter and Rink, it’d be unlikely they’d arrived yet. He got in the Toyota and turned on the engine. He backed out of the carport onto the road, and aimed the car towards the highway. Two blocks later he brought the car to a stop, digging in his pocket for his cell phone. It was ringing.

  Sue’s number was on the screen.

  He held his breath, thinking, thumb poised over the screen.

  The phone rang a few more times.

  He didn’t answer.

  He’d been desperate to hear from her, but now he was unsure.

  He shoved the phone aside, on the seat alongside his grab bag and set off driving again.

  The phone began ringing a second time, and in his state of paranoia he’d swear it sounded more persistent.

  Without stopping this time, he reached for, and had to fish the phone out from where it had slid under his bag. He continued driving, glancing from the road to the screen and back again. He hit the accept button, but didn’t speak.

  ‘Jason, it’s Sue. Can you hear me?’ Sue’s voice was distant, but that was due to Mercer holding out the phone at arm’s length, as if he could distance himself from the inevitable.

  ‘I can hear you,’ he replied.

  ‘Jason, it’s super important that—’

  ‘You aren’t alone.’

  ‘I’m with Joe and Rink.’

  ‘Then we’re done.’

  ‘Wait, Jason. Hear me out before you—’

  He ended the call.

  Seconds later the phone began ringing.

  Sue’s number again.

  He powered down the car’s window and dropped the phone in the street as he hit the gas and hurtled for the highway.

  9

  I exchanged a knowing glance with Rink.

  Sue had her back to us, her face tilted down to the screen of her phone. She studied it as if it was a surprise that Mercer had ended the call.

  ‘Shall I try again?’ she wondered aloud.

  ‘Pointless, seein’ as you’ve warned him to run,’ Rink said.

  ‘I didn’t get a chance to explain. I should ring and—’

  ‘He’s probably ditched his cell by now,’ I said. ‘Sue…a little advice for you. If you’re going to use a prearranged signal, you should choose a less obvious code word than “super”. Even to my ear it sounded forced.’

  She turned and glowered at me, opened her mouth. She was about to lie, but it was obvious that Sue and Mercer had agreed on a code to establish whether or not it was safe for them to speak. Denying it would make her look stupid. She shut her mouth and shrugged. ‘For all you know he had the sense to hang up the second I mentioned I was with you guys.’

  ‘So what’s supposed to happen now? You try to give us the slip and meet him at a predetermined rendezvous?’

  Sue ignored the question. ‘What do you have in mind for me?’

  I checked with Rink, as a plan wasn’t something we’d devised yet. His eyebrows jumped, but that was the extent of his input. It was as much as a go-ahead as I needed, though. ‘Our priority’s getting you out of harm’s way. The problem is where to take you. We aren’t with Arrowsake, and haven’t been for years, but that isn’t to say Walter Conrad doesn’t keep tabs on us. He knows where we live and work, and knows most of our closest contacts too.’

  Sue exhaled in scorn. ‘I bet you regret following us now?’

  ‘We don’t have a rewind button,’ I said, ‘so let’s just concentrate on here and now.’

  Rink’s mind was still in a dark place. ‘If I could turn back time, I’d put a third bullet in Mercer’s skull, make sure the sonofabitch was dead. Then there’d be no need for any of this.’

  ‘I was right in warning him to get away from you then,’ said Sue.

  Rink growled something deep in his throat. He clearly wasn’t fully conversant with an agreement we’d made with Sue only moments ago, to let Mercer be, even though Rink had done so grudgingly. By speaking her code word, it was academic now, because Mercer was in the wind and out of our reach. It was probably for the best, because once Rink and Mercer laid eyes on each other again there’d have to be a reckoning. I didn’t blame Sue for warning Mercer, she’d more loyalty to her friend than to us, and I respected that, but she’d stretched my trust in her going forward. It begged the obvious question: Why should we put our lives at risk for her?

  The answer was plain.

  It was what we did.

  I’m a sucker for championing the underdog, and Rink’s so strong a pal that he backs me up even against his personal misgivings. My nature had placed us in some dire situations in the past and I didn’t expect things to change for the better soon.

  ‘What’s done is done,’ I reminded my friend, then to Sue, I added, ‘but next time somebody offers a helping hand, don’t go pissing on it.’

  She nodded, then glanced under her eyebrows at Rink. Arms crossed, chin out, he scowled a second longer. Then he swept a hand. ‘What are you waiting for, Sue? Get your shit together and let’s go.’

  She’d already packed some essentials, but they weren’t enough.

  ‘Grab an extra set of clothes and underwear,’ Rink suggested. He pointed a finger at her mane of red hair. ‘And that red’s too distinctive, it’s gotta go.’

  ‘Easily rectified,’ Sue said, and began undoing some strategically placed bobby pins. Next she pulled off what neither of us fellas had realised was an expensive wig. Beneath it, her hair was short and if not raven black, a natural shade of dark brown, and not unlike how I remembered it. She dumped the wig on the kitchen counter, then pushed her fingers through her flattened hair to get it in some kind of order.

  The wig, I thought, hadn’t been a disguise for our benefit, and before today Arrowsake hadn’t been her concern; made me wonder what Sue and Mercer had been up to prior to me spotting them in Mexico Beach. Yeah, and there was still her suppressed pistol to consider. Perhaps it wasn’t the only weapon she had access to.

  ‘Let’s grab that clothing,’ I said, and aimed a nod at the upper floor. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘I don’t need fashion advice from a man,’ she said.

  ‘No, but from what I’ve witnessed you need some on how to stay alive. I’m coming with you so yo
u don’t do something stupid again.’

  Rink waited in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the bags Sue had already stuffed. She led the way upstairs, and I stayed close enough to grab her if she tried to run, but wary of a backwards kick to my chest or jab of an elbow to my face. We got to the bedroom without a repeat performance of our earlier tussle.

  She collected clothing from a wardrobe, then dug through drawers for underwear. I averted my gaze while she sifted through her smalls, deciding on which to take.

  Done, she stood watching me, the clothes in a pile in her arms.

  I met her eyes, but her chin dipped and she stared at the floor. She said, ‘Y’know something Joe? Judged on my behaviour, it might not seem that I’m happy to see you guys. In my own way, I am, and I’m thankful to you both for helping me like this, but really there’s no need. I can look after myself. I disappeared before, and can do it again. You and Rink needn’t put yourself in danger because of me. Why not just leave, pretend you never saw me?’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve promised to help, and I keep my word.’

  ‘What about Rink? He sounds more interested in ending things with Jason than helping me. If he thinks he can use me to get to Jason he can think again.’

  ‘Rink isn’t like that. He hates Mercer, but—’ there was no denying it ‘—he still cares for you. He doesn’t want you in the firing line, Sue.’

  ‘He isn’t making his feelings for me very obvious.’

  ‘What do you expect? He’s angry and confused. He thought you’d died, Sue, only for you to show up years later with one of the few people he genuinely hated. It might take him time to get his head straight, but it will happen, and he’ll be the old Rink you once knew and loved again.’

  It was a turn of phrase, but I caught the slight crinkling of her eyelids at my mention of the “L” word.