He was still spinning around slowly and Kaitlyn passed out of his vision, and then he saw a man in camouflage gear running towards him with a hunting knife in his hand. Standing put up his hands to protect himself and then Kaitlyn shouted. ‘Bobby-Ray!’
The figure stopped and turned to look at her. ‘Kaitlyn? What the hell?’
‘Thank God,’ said Kaitlyn. She ran to her brother and hugged him.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Bobby-Ray.
Standing continued to swing around, his fingertips brushing the undergrowth. ‘When you’ve got the time, you might think about getting me down,’ he said.
Bobby-Ray chuckled. He went over to the other end of the rope, which was tied to a sapling. He hacked away with his knife as Kaitlyn hurried over and grabbed Standing’s shoulders. She helped him upright as Bobby-Ray cut the rope, then Bobby-Ray walked over and hugged Standing. ‘You crazy son of a bitch,’ he said. ‘How did you find me?’ He had a hunting rifle over his back.
‘Kaitlyn and I were talking and she remembered the cabin,’ said Standing. ‘We figured there aren’t too many places where you can live off the grid without money, not at short notice.’
‘I couldn’t call you,’ he said. He slotted the knife into a nylon scabbard attached to his right leg above the knee. There was a Glock in a holster on his right hip. ‘I’m sorry. I’m pretty sure they can listen on any phones I use. I’m in deep shit, Matt. Deep, deep shit.’
Standing clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I know, mate,’ he said. ‘But we’re here to help now.’
‘And we’ve got muffins,’ said Kaitlyn, holding up the cooler.
‘Muffins?’
‘Mom made muffins,’ said Kaitlyn. ‘And an apple pie.’
‘How is she?’
Kaitlyn grimaced. ‘She’s getting worse. One minute she was asking where you were, the next she was telling us you were off fighting Arabs. Or A-Rabs as she insists on calling them these days.’
‘How’s Dad coping?’
‘Dad’s Dad, right? He never complains.’
‘Did you tell them you planned to come to the cabin?’
‘Sure. We had to.’
Bobby-Ray looked pained. ‘I just don’t want anyone to know I’m here. For obvious reasons.’
‘I said I wanted to show the cabin to Matt. I didn’t say we thought you were here.’
Bobby-Ray forced a smile. ‘It’s all good,’ he said. Then another thought struck him. ‘What car did you use?’
‘A rental,’ said Standing. ‘A Ford Escape.’
‘You parked on the lot?’
Standing nodded.
‘Maybe we’ll move it tomorrow.’
‘We found your truck,’ said Standing.
‘That’s not good,’ said Bobby-Ray. ‘We’ll fix that tomorrow as well.’ He picked up one of the carrier bags and peered inside. ‘Cheese? Bread? Eggs? Butter? Excellent. There’s no fridge so most of my fresh stuff has already spoiled.’ He looked into another carrier bag and grinned when he saw the six cans of beer. ‘Even better,’ he said. ‘No ice, obviously, but we can chill them in the stream. Come on, let’s get to the cabin before it gets any darker.’
33
Spider Shepherd thought long and hard before phoning Matt Standing. It was usually tricky trying to get a read on Richard Yokely, but the meeting in Hyde Park had given Shepherd a lot to think about. He had crossed paths with the American several times and it was always the interests of the United States that were Yokely’s prime concern. On the surface, the main purpose of the meeting appeared to be so that Yokely could get information on Matt Standing. But Standing had been embedded with a Navy SEAL unit in Syria and for that to have happened the Department of Defense would have put him under the microscope, and Yokely would almost certainly have been able to see their file on him. Yokely asked about Standing’s personality but he could have got that information from any of the men who had served with him in Syria. No, Yokely had an ulterior motive, Shepherd was sure of that.
Yokely already knew that Shepherd had given Standing information on the Russian mafia active in Los Angeles, he didn’t need Shepherd’s confirmation of the fact. So why was Yokely telling him that he knew? Was it a warning? Was he letting Shepherd know that he was on dangerous ground by helping Standing? Or did he want Shepherd to warn Standing of the danger that he was getting himself into. Yokely had been quite definite that he wanted Erik Markov out of the picture, or at least out of the United States. Was he hoping that Shepherd could somehow get Standing to kill Markov? Because that was out of the question.
Standing knew that he was going up against the Russian mafia, and he would know that killing one of the members would incur the wrath of the entire organisation. He didn’t need Shepherd to warn him of the danger he was facing, but that did seem to have been one of Yokely’s concerns. Maybe the American was just making sure that Shepherd was aware of the trouble Standing was in, but that would be a degree of altruism that Shepherd hadn’t seen before.
Eventually Shepherd decided that if nothing else, he owed it to Standing to tell him that at least one member of the US intelligence agency knew what he was up to and that he needed to tread carefully. He made the call from a throwaway mobile, one of more than a dozen that he had in his desk, but it went straight through to voicemail. He decided against leaving a message.
34
Mr Barnes and his wife were sitting on the sofa watching television when the doorbell rang. Mr Barnes frowned. They weren’t expecting visitors. Mrs Barnes started to get up. ‘That’ll be Bobby-Ray,’ she said.
‘Don’t be silly, Sarah,’ said Mr Barnes. ‘Bobby-Ray’s not coming. Sit yourself down. It had better not be those Mormons again.’
Mrs Barnes sat down and Mr Barnes pushed himself off the sofa, grunting as the arthritis in his knees kicked in. He walked unsteadily into the hallway and along to the front door. He opened it and frowned up at the three big men standing on the porch. They certainly weren’t Mormons. They were all well over six feet, wearing leather jackets and dark trousers and with thick gold chains around their necks and wrists.
The one in the middle had a goatee and dark glasses and a scar that ran the full length of his right cheek. It was an ugly ragged scar that looked as if it was the result of a broken bottle rather than a knife.
‘Can I help you?’ asked Mr Barnes.
‘You’re Bobby-Ray’s father?’ asked the man.
‘Has something happened?’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘A few weeks ago. Are you from his unit?’
‘What about his sister? Did you see her today?’
Mr Barnes frowned. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ said the man. He had an accent. European or Russian maybe, thought Mr Barnes, but wherever the man was from he had a bad attitude, so he went to shut the door on him. The man thrust his foot in the gap and stopped him from closing the door.
‘What do you think you’re doing!’ said Mr Barnes.
The man slammed his shoulder against the door with so much force that Mr Barnes staggered back into the hallway. Before he could speak, the man with the goatee had grabbed him by the throat and thrown him up against the wall. The man jabbed a nicotine-stained finger in his face. ‘You do as you’re fucking told or I’ll snap your neck. Understand?’ The grip tightened on his throat. ‘I asked you if you fucking understand?’ Mr Barnes tried to nod. His eyes were filling with tears. The man released his grip and Mr Barnes gasped for breath.
The two other men walked into the hall. One of them closed the door behind them.
‘Who else is in the house?’ hissed the man.
‘Just my wife.’
‘What about Standing and your daughter?’
‘They left.’
‘When?’
‘A couple of hours ago.’
The man put his face up close, so close that Mr Barnes could smell garlic on his breath. ‘Where did they go?�
�
‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Barnes.
One of the men was peering at the framed photographs on the wall.
His wife appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. ‘Who is it?’ she asked. ‘Is it Bobby-Ray?’
The man stepped away from Mr Barnes and turned to face her. ‘We’re friends of Bobby-Ray’s,’ he said. He flashed her a big smile. ‘Old friends,’ he said.
‘Oh that’s nice,’ said Mrs Barnes. ‘Would you like coffee? And I have muffins.’
The man grinned. ‘Muffins sound good,’ he said.
Mrs Barnes headed for the kitchen and the man followed her. Mr Barnes walked after them. He was trembling. The two other heavies brought up the rear.
Mrs Barnes switched on the kettle and gathered together five cups and saucers. Some of the muffins she had made earlier were on a plate on the table and she waved at them and told the men to help themselves. The three visitors grabbed a muffin each as Mr Barnes stood in the doorway, watching nervously. He had no idea what to do. The men were younger and bigger and stronger than he was, and the two guns in the house were hunting rifles locked in a steel case in the basement.
The man with the goatee nodded his approval at Mrs Barnes. ‘These are tasty muffins,’ he said.
‘They’re my mother’s recipe,’ said Mrs Barnes. ‘She’s dead now.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I bet Bobby-Ray loves these muffins.’
‘Oh, he does,’ she said. She opened the fridge and took out a carton of milk. ‘Bobby-Ray is out fighting the A-Rabs.’
‘Is he now?’
She frowned. ‘I think so.’ She looked over at her husband, her frown deepening. ‘Where is Bobby-Ray? Was he here today?’
‘No honey, he wasn’t here today.’
‘But Kaitlyn was, wasn’t she? I remember Kaitlyn was here. With her friend.’
‘Just make the tea, honey,’ said Mr Barnes.
The man with the goatee pointed a warning finger at Mr Barnes. He was smiling but his eyes were as hard as flint. ‘Let your lovely wife talk, Mr Barnes.’
‘She isn’t well,’ whispered Mr Barnes.
‘She seems fine to me,’ said the man.
‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying.’
The man’s companions walked over to stand next to Mr Barnes, intimidating him with their presence. He folded his arms and stared at the floor.
The man took another bite of his muffin. ‘Kaitlyn is your daughter, isn’t she?’ he asked Mrs Barnes.
Mrs Barnes nodded. The kettle finished boiling and she poured water into a cafetière. ‘She was here today. She took some muffins with her. And an apple pie that I made.’
‘Did she now? Where was she going?’
‘To the cabin.’ She looked over at her husband. ‘That’s right, isn’t it? Kaitlyn is going to the cabin with that nice man. What was his name again?’
The man looked over at Mr Barnes. ‘The cabin, you say? Where is this cabin?’
Mr Barnes continued to stare at the floor.
‘We used to go to the cabin a lot but these days not so much,’ said Mrs Barnes, pouring coffee into the cups.
The man went over to Mr Barnes and poked him in the chest. ‘The cabin,’ he said. ‘Where is it?’
Mr Barnes shook his head. ‘Please,’ he said, as tears streamed down his face. ‘Please just leave us alone.’
35
Bobby-Ray led Standing and Kaitlyn through the woods, pointing out the occasional trap that he’d set. After about a mile the track opened into a clearing that bordered a large lake. There was a small log cabin with a wooden porch overlooking the water. There was a line of washing drying across the porch and two wooden rocking chairs. ‘Home sweet home,’ said Bobby-Ray.
Trees surrounded the lake and Standing couldn’t see any other cabins or buildings. There was a small rowing boat on the shore with two oars inside.
‘So no one else lives near here?’ asked Standing.
‘It’s all a designated wilderness area, pretty much. Our land is this clearing, down to the lake, and about halfway up the hill. The nearest neighbour is over there.’ He pointed to the west. ‘But the guy who owns it is a lawyer in Sacramento and he’s only here for weekends during the hunting season.’
There was a babbling stream running down the hill towards the lake. Bobby-Ray went over and placed the carrier bag containing the cans of beer into the stream.
The sky was darkening overhead and the brightest stars were already visible. Kaitlyn opened the door to the cabin and carried her bags inside. Standing followed her.
The floor was bare wood dotted with thick rugs. The furniture was old and battered, including a wooden coffee table and two overstuffed leather sofas with thick Native American blankets thrown over them. There was a rough wood cabinet and a wooden trunk, on which there was an oil lamp. Bobby-Ray came in behind them and propped his rifle by the side of the door. ‘No electricity here, so we use lamps if we need light, and I brought a couple of flashlights with me,’ he said.
‘What about bathroom arrangements?’ asked Standing.
Bobby-Ray laughed. ‘Didn’t Kaitlyn tell you?’
Standing shook his head.
‘The toilet is on the edge of the clearing. A wooden hut over a hole. Every few months we fill in the hole, dig another hole and move the hut.’ He laughed at the look of surprise on Standing’s face. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You’ve shat in enough plastic bags in your time. A hole in the ground is a step up from that.’
‘I guess so,’ said Standing.
‘We shower using water from the lake,’ said Bobby-Ray. ‘We have a rubber bladder thing that we fill with lake water and we hang it up at the back of the cabin. There’s a nozzle on the bottom and you get about two minutes of water from it. If you hang it up for three or four hours before you use it, the sun warms it.’
He went over to a kitchen area, where there was a wood-burning stove. ‘Coffee?’ he asked. There was a metal coffee pot and he put it on one of the hotplates, then opened the front of the stove and shoved in two chunks of wood. ‘It’ll take the beer an hour or two to chill.’
‘Coffee sounds good,’ said Standing, dropping down onto a sofa. There was an ornate dream catcher on the wall behind him, peppered with turquoise and blue beads. The cabin felt homely, albeit grubby. There was a layer of dust over most of the furniture and cobwebs in the ceiling corners.
Bobby-Ray made coffee while Kaitlyn took out the muffins and apple pie and put them on plates. Kaitlyn joined Standing on the sofa and Bobby-Ray sat in a matching leather armchair that was also covered with a Native American blanket.
‘What are you doing here, Bobby-Ray?’ asked Standing.
‘Lying low,’ said Bobby-Ray.
‘You’re hiding,’ said Standing. ‘I get that. But from who? The cops?’
‘From everybody,’ said Bobby-Ray. He picked up a piece of pie and bit into it. He nodded his appreciation at Kaitlyn. ‘Mom makes a great pie.’
‘Bobby-Ray, we went to the motel where you were staying,’ said Kaitlyn. ‘We found the FBI agents.’
Bobby-Ray nodded. ‘They tried to kill me.’
‘But you killed them?’ asked Standing.
‘They gave me no choice, Matt. It was kill or be killed.’
‘What happened? How did you get into this mess?’
Bobby-Ray laughed. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘We’ve got time,’ said Standing. ‘So tell me what happened. Right from the start.’
Bobby-Ray sipped his coffee and nodded. ‘I was set up. One of the Russian bodyguards killed our client and was trying to frame me for it. He coldcocked me in the hall and when I came to he’d killed the client and the rest of the bodyguards. With my fucking gun. He started shooting at me and I barely managed to get out of the house. I went home and picked up my truck. With hindsight, not a smart move but I wanted to be mobile. No one was watching my place so I grabbed the truck and drove. Then I got a call from Faith Hogan
, John Keenan’s number two. She wanted to know what was happening and I told her. She told me that I should ditch my phone and buy a throwaway.’
‘Why did she say that?’
‘She said Keenan wanted to keep his distance until they were sure what had happened.’
Standing frowned. ‘That’s a strange thing to ask you to do,’ he said.
‘Not really. If the cops did think that Redrock was behind the killings, any calls afterwards might look like conspiracy. She said they needed to get all their ducks in a row before going to the cops with our side of the story.’
‘That’s what she said?’
‘I think so, yeah. Pretty much. It wasn’t my idea to chuck the phone, anyway. She said I should get a throwaway phone and find somewhere to lie low and then call her back.’
‘Call her, not Keenan?’
‘She said he was busy dealing with the fallout and that she had been assigned to babysit me until we’d got it resolved.’
Standing grimaced. ‘Just so you know, John Keenan told me he’d never heard anything from you after the killing, that you just went dark and he had no idea where you were.’
‘Fuck,’ said Bobby-Ray. ‘Faith must have been lying to me.’
‘So what happened then?’
‘So I got a throwaway phone and I called Faith Hogan back. She told me that I’m to stay under the radar and book into a motel, somewhere quiet where I won’t be seen. At that point I start to get worried, it’s like Redrock is distancing itself from me. So I’m thinking that maybe they’re getting ready to hang me out to dry. And I can see their point, right? Lipov used my gun to kill the client and the other bodyguards. Who’s going to believe that he set me up? Plus, he stayed in the house and I ran, which has to make me look as guilty as fuck, right?’
‘It would have made everything much simpler if you’d stayed,’ said Standing.
‘He was shooting at me, Matt. And I wasn’t armed.’
‘I’m just saying,’ said Standing. He shrugged. ‘Anyway, that’s water under the bridge. We have to play the hand we’ve been dealt.’
‘Right,’ said Bobby-Ray. ‘So I was getting a bad feeling about the whole scenario then, which is why I called Kaitlyn and asked her to call you.’
Last Man Standing Page 25
