by Matt Hilton
‘Harm her, I’ll shoot you in the fucking face,’ I snarled.
Sue was still conscious, but I doubted there’d be any cognizance in her thoughts. She hadn’t the strength to fight, and all her efforts just then were on trying to find her footing. Her heels barked at Vince’s shins, but he took the discomfort in favour of using her as a human shield. He even relaxed the pressure on the garrote so she could suck in a breath. Her body shuddered. Instantly he tightened the coil again.
‘You won’t shoot anyone,’ Vince corrected me, ‘because you’re going to throw down your weapon.’
‘No chance.’
‘Then I don’t see a good way out of this for any of us, except maybe for Cayton over there.’
Cayton, the man who’d acted as bait so that Vince could spring his trap, emerged from hiding and approached a few steps. He had his silenced pistol aimed at me. His mouth was turned up at one corner in a sneer. His expression challenged me to try to kill him first.
The way Vince saw things, if he killed Sue, I would kill him, but then I’d die under Cayton’s gun. Cayton, it appeared, was under the same impression.
Another scenario: if I threw down my gun, I’d get shot dead by Cayton, and Sue would still be their prisoner.
‘Might not end too well for you either, mate,’ I warned Cayton.
His sneer flickered, because there was always the possibility I’d shoot him, being the most direct threat, and he’d just put himself in my sights.
‘Whatever you’re being paid, is it worth your life?’ I asked the gunman.
His tongue darted across his lips as he considered my words. For a second it looked as if Cayton had reconsidered the predicament he’d gotten embroiled in, and his gaze went from me to Vince for direction.
‘Watch him, goddamnit,’ Vince snapped at him, and he tightened the garrote so that Sue’s legs thrashed. Her tote bag had been dragged over the wall with her, but she’d since dropped it between her feet. Her hands were behind her, squashed to her butt by the way Vince arched her over his thigh. ‘Hunter! Lower your weapon or I swear to God I’ll—’
‘I’m not throwing down my gun. Let her go, Vince, or we’re all probably going to die today. It’s a price I’m willing to pay…are you ready?’ I stared at Cayton, returning his earlier challenge. My gun barrel didn’t waver. In the meantime, Vince continued moving backwards, taking Sue with him.
I heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. A minute felt like an eternity when lives were under threat, but at last Rink had made it here.
Unfortunately his wasn’t the only vehicle to squeal to halt.
The surviving SUV had arrived, and some of the others I’d fought in the woods were inside. They must’ve evaded the cops and rendezvoused with the driver, even as Vince and Cayton had tracked us along Water Tank Road, before splitting up to trap us after we’d gone to ground behind the wall.
I dared not take my eyes off Cayton, but I heard Rink’s car door open, and assumed he’d taken cover behind it. I also heard a door on the SUV clunk open. Vince continued backing towards it, his hostage now angled to protect him from Rink’s gun too.
Cayton had grown seriously nervous: if Vince made it to the SUV with Sue, it’d leave him exposed and at the mercy of two guns. I saw uncertainty flicker across his features, and knew for certain he was going to shoot.
I shot him first, and my bullets took him in the chest. He got off a return shot, but it drilled the wall next to me, as I was already spinning to acquire my original target.
Somebody shot from the car, muzzle flashes lighting up the interior. Rink returned fired, but with care not to hit Sue, so ineffectively.
Latterly Sue fired.
Unbeknown to us all, she’d had more presence of mind than anyone would’ve given her credit, and had slipped her pistol from the tote bag before it had fallen to the ground. Her silenced pistol coughed twice, and Vince danced behind her with a startled yowl. Sadly she’d missed shooting off his feet. She swung the gun up and over her shoulder and stuck the suppressor against his throat, and her eyes pinched in anticipation of the blowback as she again squeezed the trigger.
Vince was the luckiest son of a bitch alive. In her desperation, she’d grabbed the first gun she’d placed in her bag, and this one had only held two rounds. He yelled again, but in anger this time, and he employed the leverage of the garrote to twist her around and toss her into the waiting hands of his pals in the back of the SUV. He didn’t hang around either. As both Rink and I fired, he threw himself inside, on top of them. The car was already revving away, the back door open, with Vince’s legs kicking the air, as both of us rushed to slow them.
I tried to shoot out a tire, but my bullet rebounded from the spinning rubber. Rink aimed for the engine, but it was angled away from him and his bullet ricocheted off the side. If Sue hadn’t been onboard we’d have peppered the SUV with rounds until it was as holed as a sieve, instead we lowered our pistols. The SUV took a wide squealing swerve around the intersection, almost mounting the grass shoulder on the beach side, and then it tore off at speed, heading down the highway with its engine roaring.
I met Rink’s eyes. He had his teeth clenched, his features had darkened in rage and the old scar stood out on his chin like a thunderbolt. I probably looked equally pissed off.
From further up the highway sirens howled, and blue, red and white lights flashed. The cops were coming.
‘This ain’t over, brother,’ Rink said.
‘Not by a long shot,’ I said.
‘Let’s go.’
I took a step after him, then glanced over at Sue’s tote bag.
‘Gimme a second,’ I said.
She’d clung to that bag throughout, until she couldn’t any longer.
I snatched it up, and then we ran for the Ford.
21
I’d returned to Mexico Beach with innocent intent and a sense of civic duty to assist with the clean up and reclamation of the town I’d called home for years. I’d toiled among the wreckage of my beach house, salvaging a few personal items, and the last thing I’d ever expected was to get caught up in a fight. With no reason not to, I’d booked my hotel room under my genuine details, and also I was the registered owner of the Audi I’d abandoned at City Dock. Even if we managed to give the police the slip now, I’d be identified and a wanted man. Back in the good old days, Walter would have exerted his influence to divert law enforcement attention off me, but I couldn’t rely on his help this time. If his superiors were the ones that’d sent a hit team to my hotel, then they sure as hell wouldn’t allow Walter to protect me as he had before.
The cops were not my enemies, but they didn’t know that. I wasn’t happy about potentially hurting a cop, but neither could I let them arrest me. In time I could probably prove my innocence, and convince a jury I was acting in self-defence throughout, but that could take weeks or perhaps months. I didn’t have time to languish in a cell if Sue’s life was going to be saved. There was only one reason that she was alive for now, and it was because Arrowsake believed she could lead them to Mercer. They might keep her as a lure, or they might torture the information they required from her, then kill her the instant she was no longer useful.
Rink hurtled the Ford down the highway, and I was happy to note the police lights were dwindling. Sadly Vince and the others in the SUV were too far ahead of us, and travelling without lights, so we’d no idea where they were. One thing we were both conscious of was the possibility of cops from Port St. Joe responding to calls for assistance from their neighbouring PD, and shutting the highway ahead. Rink took a left turn onto a forest trail running adjacent to a boggy waterway called Chickenhouse Branch. None of my previous explorations had brought me here, so I’d no more idea where the road would take us than Rink. As long as it was away from law enforcement pursuit, it suited me. Once out of sight of the highway, he slowed down and took more care navigating the trail. The tires crunched over downed branches but the road wasn’t blocked. At a T-junction
, he went right, perhaps guessing that the next trail might lead us towards the eastern end of Port St. Joe where we could pick up FL-71, while avoiding any police cordon. I wasn’t confident there was any route hereabouts that bridged the Gulf County Canal, which to my reconning could be less than a couple of miles ahead, blocked our direction and was only spanned at the highway.
Rink decided on taking a narrow trail that sent us deeper into the woods and up along the crest of a low chalky bluff that shone almost luminescent under the starlight. Safely off the road he reversed the Ford off-trail so that the tree canopy hid it from above. Depending on the extent of the police pursuit, they could send up a chopper with thermal imaging cameras: the heat from the Ford’s engine would stand out like a bonfire, but hopefully the dense tree cover would protect us for now.
Rink kept the engine running but all the lights off. We exchanged looks.
‘You injured, brother?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You smell like a swamp.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’ I’d walked off some of the water in my clothes, but was still wet from my waist down. My feet squelched in my boots. Now that he’d mentioned it, I got a waft of warm air rising off me and it was pretty rank.
When we’d run to the car I’d tossed Sue’s tote bag, and also my backpack, onto the back seat. I’d a set of boxers, spare jeans and a shirt in my bag, but there was nothing I could do about my wet footwear. I got out and opened the back door, reached inside and dragged my backpack to me. I paused, my gaze alighting on Sue’s tote bag: she’d been determined not to let that thing out of her sight. Letting my change of clothes be for now, I reached and grabbed the tote. It was heavy. I was conscious of Rink watching me over his shoulder. ‘Lookin’ for some fresh pantyhose?’ he quipped.
‘I just want to see what’s so bloody important inside this bag.’
Rink reached up and flicked on the dome light. We were deep in the woods, and no cop would see the faint glow; if they were already close enough to see it, we would be in trouble anyway.
The bag had large handles, and a zip along the top, partly open. I fully unzipped it and folded back the edges to see inside. On top was the silenced pistol she’d missed grabbing when in Vince’s clutches: it was a shame her groping fingers had found the wrong gun, or she would have blown his damned head off and then we’d have foiled her abduction. I picked the gun up and placed it on the seat.
I returned to delving through the bag. There were more of Sue’s personal belongings, including her purse and another bag containing cosmetics, hairbrush and the usual accoutrements. There was a smart phone, and another cheaper model cell that’d gone out with Noah’s Ark. The first was switched off, the second disassembled, with its battery and SIM card wrapped in cellophane. I showed Rink the latter and he nodded sagely. For the moment I set it aside.
I pulled out other inconspicuous items, and laid them on the seat. I came upon a sturdy tin box. It was the type often used to hold petty cash in an office. It was locked, but no problem to open. I put it down on the ground, raised a heel then stamped down on it. The lid buckled and the lock popped open. Inside I found what I’d largely expected: loose cash, amounting to about a thousand dollars, and several credit cards in the name of Suzanne Carter. There were also a few things I hadn’t expected: small plastic wraps containing white powder…more accurately, narcotics. Sue hadn’t struck me as a user, so I decided the drugs were probably there as incentives to buy help that required secrecy. I shoved everything away in the box and shut the twisted lid as best I could. Then I bent to what I was really searching for. In the bottom of the bag there was a large bundle wrapped in opaque plastic. It looked as if Sue had torn down a shower curtain, packed items inside it, then secured it all with duct tape. I hauled it out. Rink’s attention was piqued enough that he got out of the car and joined me. I dumped the heavy package on the roof of the car.
‘Got a knife?’ I asked.
Often Rink carried a military issue KABAR, but that was on active missions, and he’d neglected to arm himself before his unexpected drive up from Tampa.
‘Here, let me,’ he said, as I reached for the bundle. ‘You can get yourself changed into some dry clothin’.’
I stood aside for him, and he set to work ripping off lengths of duct tape. I was too impatient to see what he disclosed to bother with stripping out of my soaked trousers. He unwrapped the plastic sheet slowly, like a kid savouring the surprise on Christmas morning. He stepped back, mouth downturned, similar to some of those kids where the surprise didn’t match their expectation. ‘What the hell is this?’
There were six buff-coloured folders altogether, thickly packed with printed documents. I reached past him and flicked open the topmost one. I slipped out the first few printed sheets.
‘Talk about takin’ your work home with you,’ said Rink.
The documents were pretty much what would be expected of a realtor. They contained the specs of houses and other properties, including photographs to show the homes off to their best ability. There were details on room numbers and dimensions, facilities, and even fuel and energy consumption ratings.
Rink exhaled through his nostrils. ‘You should have a flick through those, see if there’s anywhere takes your fancy seein’ as you’re effectively homeless now.’
‘Why would Sue waste her time protecting this stuff?’ I dug deeper, but couldn’t see anything unusual.
‘She told us the realtors she works for is a front for a protective service,’ Rink began, and I took his hint.
‘You think these documents hide a network of safe houses, just like the one where Sue lived?’
‘Yup. Don’t know how that will help us find Sue though, and right now we haven’t really got the time to check. Let’s just bundle that stuff up and I’ll put it safely in the trunk.’
I nodded without answering, deep in thought. Sue had given us a cock and bull story about attending a civic meeting with a client, and it had turned ugly. She’d intimated that the gunman that had come to her house was probably looking for payback for somebody she and Mercer had strong-armed out of the meeting: it had sounded like a bullshit story to me then, and even more so now. I’d bet that if I interrogated those files, I’d find a house matching an address in Mexico Beach. Disguised in her vibrant red wig, had Sue come to town earlier to check on the house, or more correctly the person relocated under false details to it? By no stretch of the imagination did I believe that all the documents pertained to safe houses, only that they were hidden among all the rest: when Sue had rushed home to clear out the documents before fleeing, she hadn’t had time to sift among them. She’d grabbed everything she had, dumped them in the plastic and prepared to leave, and that was when we’d shown up, followed shortly by the guy with the Uzi. I’d disregarded that first gunman from being sent by Arrowsake, now I wasn’t as sure. Back in our day, Arrowsake fielded only the cream of military operatives; it seemed these days, they were using any asshole that could point a gun. Case in point: Vince’s team. Cayton had lacked killer instinct; he’d allowed indecision to gain control of him and had died for his mistake. Also, those others with Vince, they had the numbers, the firepower, but not the strategic training I’d have expected of them, otherwise none of us would’ve made it out of that hotel alive, and Sue and I would’ve been killed or captured back at City Docks.
The trunk lid clunked softly, and Rink leaned on it to fully close it. He’d loosely rewrapped the documents and put them in the trunk while I’d mulled things over. He was correct in that the documents wouldn’t help us find or rescue Sue, but there was another item that might. ‘Gimme those cell phones, Hunter.’
I handed over both, and while he interrogated the smart phone, I quickly shucked out of my wet clothing, wiped myself down with my discarded shirt, and dressed in the dry stuff from my backpack. The wet clothes I wadded up and stuffed under a fallen log, then kicked some leaf litter over them to hide them completely. I inserted my SIG in t
he back of my fresh jeans. By then Rink had scrolled through Sue’s most recent activity on her smart phone.
‘There’s a number here that could be Mercer’s. She called it after first spotting us, probably to warn him to run. I’m going to ring it but doubt it’ll get us anywhere.’
‘He has probably dumped that phone by now,’ I said, ‘the same as Sue probably intended to do with her’s before the shit hit the fan.’
He nodded, but hit the call button anyway. Listened. I heard the tinny strains of an automated message advising that the call couldn’t be connected. Just as expected, but Rink had to try. He switched off the smart phone and lobbed it on the back seat.
‘If he’d answered,’ I asked, ‘what would you have said?’
He shrugged, not fully sure.
‘We have to agree on something, Rink,’ I said.
‘Yeah.’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Sue comes first.’
‘Do you think he’ll let bygones be bygones for her sake?’
‘If he won’t, it will only prove I was right to shoot the scumball.’
‘How do you feel about that now? According to Sue, Arrowsake sold you a lie, and had him executed to protect their wrongdoing…but then, Sue has lied to us about other things.’
He exhaled noisily. ‘The reason she gave for them being in Mexico Beach when you spotted Mercer was obviously bullshit; she was thinking on the hoof and graspin’ for a plausible lie, and it sounded paper thin. It was different with what she said about Mercer though. Knowin’ what we do now about Arrowsake, it makes perfect sense. He was their patsy, and like a good little soldier I obeyed my orders to execute him. Does knowin’ that change my opinion of him? Sure it does. Can’t say he’ll feel the same way about me.’
‘We won’t know until we make contact.’ I held out my hand. ‘Maybe I should be the one to make first contact.’
Rink studied the old cell phone and its sundry parts. He came to a decision, and handed them over.
