On The Edge: Book Three in The No Direction Home Series

by Mike Sheridan

  He’d sat down beside them at an empty stool. “Well lads, tomorrow’s hunt for the Bentons is still on,” he said after a few pleasantries. “We need to meet Mason in the dining hall at 8 a.m. sharp. Armed and dangerous.”

  “Not a problem,” Gatto grunted, staring down at his three remaining tiles. He tipped one over and slid it across the table, joining it to one end of the chain.

  “Dammit, Gat. You’ve gone and blocked me,” Lenny moaned, sitting to his left. He rapped the table with his knuckles, signaling for play to pass to the next man.

  Gatto chuckled. “That’s the name of the game, Len.” He looked over at Paul Webb sitting opposite him. “How about you, Pauly? You got a move?”

  “Sure do.” Webb slid out a tile, leaving him with only one remaining. “Watch out. Next turn, I’m chipping out.”

  “Gat…” Jonah said haltingly, “Mason told me I have to move to his camp in the morning. I’m to join his crew.”

  Gatto turned sharply in his seat. “What the fuck! You better not have agreed to that. Not without my permission,” he said furiously.

  Jonah’s expression grew more apologetic. “It was an order. What was I to do?” He stared at Gatto glumly. “I like it here with you guys. You think you can have a word with him in the morning?”

  “Damn straight I will,” Gatto said between gritted teeth. He flung his two remaining tiles across the table, scattering the rest of the pieces in all directions. “Fucker’s got no right stealing my men like that.”

  Jonah left it at that. From the look on Gatto’s face, there was no need to say anything more. The mood at the table soured, and a short time later, the group broke up for the night.

  As he headed back to his cabin, Jonah chuckled to himself. Both Gatto and Mason had explosive personalities, a recipe for confrontation if ever he’d seen it. Things might get interesting in the morning.

  ***

  At 8:15 a.m., Mason strolled into the dining hall, accompanied by a sleepy-eyed Doney and two members of his crew. Spotting Gatto and his men, he came over to their table. “All set?” he asked.

  Gatto nodded sullenly, barely looking up at him. “Yeah, we’re ready.”

  “Good.” Mason checked his watch. “See you at the parking lot in ten minutes. I’ll show you the route we’ll be taking on the map.”

  As he turned to leave, Gatto called out to him. “Hey, Mason, Jonah’s part of my gang. What makes you think you can go stealing my people like that?”

  Mason swiveled around and came back to the table. He stood over Gatto, his huge frame towering over him. “Because I don’t need your damned permission, that’s why. Jonah used to be part of Nate’s crew, who I found. Why the hell shouldn’t I take him?”

  “Because he’s with me now,” Gatto protested. “It ain’t fair.”

  Mason eyes narrowed to small black beads. “You got the lodge, don’t you? Soon you’ll have people begging to join your crew. What the fuck you bitching about?”

  Gatto held Mason’s gaze a moment, then lowered his eyes. “I suppose you’re right. Just don’t go taking anymore, okay?” he muttered.

  Seeing he’d won the argument, Mason’s face relaxed. He slapped Gatto on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s just me and Murph got a good rap going, that’s all. Makes sense he joins me.” He looked at Jonah, indicating that he follow him, then turned on his heels and headed out of the dining hall.

  Shrugging at Gatto, Jonah stood up. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and followed Mason out of the room.

  ***

  At 8:30 a.m., the three-vehicle convoy drove out of the camp. Gatto’s blue Ford, which he’d driven over from his old camp the previous day, led the way. Mason followed in his GMC Canyon. He sat behind the wheel, Doney riding shotgun, while Jonah and a guy named Mike sat in the back seats. In the truck bed, two crew members leaned against either side panel, their rifles pointing outward. Following them, and similarly configured, a third pickup took up the rear.

  Halfway down the driveway they passed the main checkpoint, where Mason’s guards reversed the eight-wheeler off the road and let them pass. Reaching Cookson Road, they turned left and headed south, deeper into the Cohutta.

  A trickle of sweat ran down the side of Jonah’s face. A deadly ambush lay somewhere ahead. In the enclosed space of the vehicle with bullets flying everywhere, he was under no illusion that in the next few minutes he might very well end up dead.

  They reached the junction of Card Spur Road. To the left, the road ran down to the lakeside by Devil’s Point. To the right, it headed toward the Harris Branch. Mason slowed down as Gatto’s truck turned right onto Card Spur in front of him.

  Jonah gazed anxiously out the window and braced himself, his senses twitching like crazy. Right here was where he would have set up the ambush, at a place where the convoy was forced to slow down. On the radio with Olvan earlier, he hadn’t had the chance to ask. Through his window, he’d spotted one of Gatto’s crew outside and had hurriedly terminated the call.

  His instincts were correct. At that moment, several shots fired off in quick succession.

  Crack! Crack! … Crack! Crack!

  Mason slammed his foot down on the pedal and tugged hard on the steering wheel. With a screech of its tires, the Canyon swerved sharply onto Card Spur Road.

  “Everyone okay?” he shouted as the pickup quickly gathered speed. All three passengers responded affirmatively.

  Jonah looked around, confused. None of the truck’s windows were damaged. Also, the shots appeared to have come from the right side of the road. Jonah had specifically told Kit Halpern that Mason would be driving the truck. The shooting should have come from the left.

  Mason glanced in his rearview mirror. “Dammit! They got Lou and Johnny!” he snarled.

  Jonah jerked his head around. Mason’s men lay sprawled in the cargo bed, blood streaming from their heads. The shots hadn’t missed—they’d taken out two crew members. Back at the junction, the shooting continued. The trailing vehicle had obviously come under fire too.

  What the hell is going on? a bewildered Jonah thought to himself. Why didn’t the Bentons taken Mason out?

  Above the sound of the Canyon, he then heard the loud roar of an engine. A moment later, a motorbike appeared on the road. It must have cut out of the forest from somewhere. In a few short seconds, it caught up with them. A man wearing a full-face helmet and a black motorcycle jacket sat hunched behind the handlebars. Behind him, another man held a pistol in his grip.

  Now Jonah understood why he’d been instructed to sit behind Mason. With the men in the truck bed eliminated, and the trailing vehicle prevented from following them, Jonah’s seat was the last position from which someone could easily fire at the motorbike.

  Mason had spotted the bike too. As it roared up to his window, he took a large bite of the steering wheel and jerked it hard. Simultaneously, with his right hand, he pulled the handbrake all the way up. The truck’s rear wheels locked and began to slide out across the road. As the car rotated, the motorbike was forced to swerve away or else it would have crashed into the side of the truck. Completing the one-eighty turn, Mason expertly released the handbrake, floored the gas pedal, and the Canyon shot off in the direction they’d just come from.

  In a daze, Jonah swiveled his head and looked out the back windscreen to see the motorbike race away. A moment later, it swerved left and disappeared up a forest track.

  He turned around again and stared at Mason in disbelief. “How in the name of jaysus did you manage that?” It didn’t take anything on his part to feign surprise. The last thirty seconds had been straight out of a movie.

  “That’s the wrong question,” Mason replied tightly. “How the hell did the Bentons know we’d be leaving camp right now? Don’t tell me they’ve been sitting around waiting for us for two days.”

  Doney looked at Mason, his eyes widening. “You’re right, boss. Someone must be in on this!”

  “Damn straight.” Mason slammed his fo
ot on the brakes and the Canyon skidded to a halt in the middle of the road. He pulled out his pistol and jammed it through the gap between the seats, a look of pure rage on his face. “Murph, you better tell me what’s going on, or I’ll plug you right there where you sit!”

  CHAPTER 29

  The CVO Breakout tore up the forest trail. Approaching the next bend at breakneck speed, Ralph expertly downshifted, and Cody had to clutch on tightly to the back fender as the Harley’s rear wheel skidded in the dirt. Straightening out, Ralph pulled back on the throttle and shifted up through the gears again.

  In his mind’s eye, Cody reran the sequence of events that had just taken place. He shook his head in frustration. The ambush had been executed to perfection, bar the final act itself, the one that really counted.

  At the back of Mason’s truck, his two men had been dispatched expertly by Jim Wharton and Clete, the camp’s top marksmen, while the trailing vehicle had been fired at head on by Sheriff Rollins and Sam Kirby, preventing it from following Mason.

  Given the go-ahead by Walter over the radio, Cody and Ralph, who had been waiting in the forest, drove out onto Card Spur Road and raced up to the Canyon. His pistol raised, Cody had been a split second away from shooting Mason when the bandit had performed an incredible handbrake turn and made a perfect one-eighty on the road.

  Cody doubted they would get another chance to take him out. Forewarned now, Mason would take better precautions when he left camp. Though he’d never met Jonah Murphy, Cody feared for him. Mason would be suspicious of how a perfectly-timed ambush like the one they’d just executed could have be done without advance notice. Jonah was likely the first to fall under suspicion.

  They reached the end of the trail. Braking hard, Ralph dropped his right shoulder, and the Harley turned onto Baker Creek Road and headed in the direction of the Alaculsy Valley.

  Cody tapped Ralph on the shoulder. He slowed and turned his head to one side. “Damn, that was some stunt Mason pulled!” Cody yelled into his helmet. “You ever see anything like that before?”

  “Not since my last getaway!” the bank robber yelled back at him. Then he yanked the throttle hard and the Harley picked up speed again, leaving Cody to ponder what he would tell a disappointed war council back at Camp Eastwood.

  CHAPTER 30

  Jonah stared at the pistol held in Mason’s grip. Poked through the front seats, its muzzle was only a couple of feet from his chest.

  He gulped hard, a sinking feeling in his stomach. It hadn’t taken long for Mason to realize the Bentons must have had inside knowledge. Too much work had gone into the ambush to think otherwise. He’d been rumbled, and now he was going to die.

  “Mason, what are yeh talking about? Yeh think I had something to do with this?” Though nothing would save him now, preservation instincts kicked in all the same. Denial was his only option.

  From the front passenger seat, Doney stared at him coldly. “Somebody set us up. Makes sense it’s the newcomer.”

  Mason’s hard eyes bore into Jonah’s. “Murph, answer my questions straight, or I’ll blow you to hell. When you told Gatto you’d be joining my crew, how did he take it?”

  “Eh?” Jonah replied, taken aback by Mason’s line of questioning. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He recovered fast, though. “To be honest, he was pretty sore about it.”

  “Sore? Like how?”

  “Well, he called you all sorts of names. Said you shouldn’t be stealing his people. You know, same thing he told you at the dining hall.”

  Mason grunted. “Anything else?”

  Jonah thought hard. Mason wasn’t stupid. He had to play this just right. “I don’t know. He sent me to my trailer. While he and the crew talked about it, I guess. I didn’t see him again until this morning.”

  “Boss,” Doney cut in, “you really think Gatto’s men ambushed us, not the Bentons?”

  Mason snorted. “Wake the fuck up, Doney. How the hell could the Bentons have known we’d be leaving camp this morning? It’s got to be Gatto.”

  Doney still looked doubtful, like something wasn’t quite right. Jonah prayed he didn’t figure it out. “I guess. You think Murph was in on it too?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Mason turned to face Jonah again. “Tell me, any of Gatto’s crew got a motorbike?”

  A look of surprise came over Jonah’s face, as if the thought just occurred to him. “Lenny’s got one! He drove it back from their old camp yesterday.”

  Mason’s gaze hardened. “Was it the same one you saw just now?”

  Jonah scratched his head. “I’m not sure. It was a big bike…some type of low rider. Sorry, I’m not good on that kind of thing.”

  That clinched it for Mason. His face grew even darker. “Sonofabitch thought he could kill me and take over my crew. Well, he’s got—”

  Doney nudged Mason’s arm urgently. “Boss! Here comes Gatto now!”

  Mason looked past Jonah and through the rear windshield. Jonah turned around too, to see Gatto’s blue pickup coming around the bend at speed. Having seen that Mason was no longer following him, he’d turned around.

  Mason gritted his teeth. “Here’s how we’re going to play this. We’re going to pretend like we haven’t figured this out. Soon as the moment’s right, we take the fucker down, got it?”

  Sitting beside Jonah, Mike nodded. “Got it, boss.”

  Ten yards back, the Ford truck pulled to a stop with a screech of its brakes. A moment later, Gatto flung open the driver door and stepped out. Mason gave Jonah one last look. “Here’s your opportunity to prove yourself, Murph. Don’t blow it.”

  The four stepped out of the Canyon as Gatto hurried over to them. “Mason, you all right?” he asked anxiously when he reached them.

  Mason nodded. “I’m fine. Bastards took out two of my men though.”

  Gatto spat on the road. “Damn. The Bentons must be closer than we thought. Come on, let’s grab some more people and go find them.”

  Mason stared at the Ford, where Gatto’s men sat, watching. “One…two…three…and two more in the bed make five.” he counted. “Still leaves three more. Where are they, Gatto?”

  Gatto stared at him with a puzzled look. “I left three of my men back at the lodge, if that’s what you mean. Murph told me you only needed six of us today.”

  “True, but if I’d known what was coming, I’d have thought different about it, now wouldn’t I?”

  Gatto’s frown deepened. “Mason, what the fuck you talking about?”

  “Three extra men…” Mason mused. “One to take Lou and Johnny out in the truck bed. Another two to do the motorbike hit. It almost worked too, only for the fact I used to be a security driver, trained how to evade and escape.”

  With a look of horror, Gatto took a step back. “Mason, are you out of your fucking mind? This had nothing to do with me.” He turned to Jonah. “Murph, tell him,” he pleaded.

  Unfortunately for Don Gatto, the time for words was over. So was his life. A stone-faced Jonah pulled out his Glock and shot him twice in the chest. Gatto’s knees buckled, and with a short grunt he dropped like a rock.

  Before he hit the ground, Jonah took aim again and blasted through the Ford’s windshield. A moment later, Mason, Doney, and Mike followed suit. With no time to react, the three men inside the crew cabin were ripped apart in a hail of lead.

  Behind, in the load bed, Gatto’s two remaining men jumped out and sprinted up the road. They didn’t make it far. In seconds, both lay motionless, face down on the tarmac.

  Mason raised an arm and called a halt to the shooting. He surveyed the scene a few moments, then said, “Come on. Let’s go.”

  The adrenaline coursing through his body, Jonah flipped his rifle on safety and followed Mason back to the Canyon. All four jumped inside, Mason started the engine, and they were off again. Though still in shock, Jonah felt confident he’d done enough to convince Mason of his loyalty. Every dead crew member gave Colleen and the Bentons a bet
ter chance of survival too.

  They returned to the junction of Cookson Road to see the trailing pickup wrapped around a tree. As soon as he’d come under attack, the quick-thinking driver had swerved off the road and into the forest to get out of the line of fire. All six men were unharmed, and were in the process of pushing the damaged truck back out onto the road.

  Mason ordered Jonah and Mike to dump Lou and Johnny. One by one, the pair lifted the corpses out of truck bed and laid them down in the forest.

  When they got back, Mason was waiting impatiently for them. “Come on,” he growled. “We still got three more to take care of.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Hunched over the wheel of the Canyon, Mason raced down Cookson Road in the direction of Wasson Lodge. In the back seat, Jonah’s mind raced even harder. Having dispatched Gatto and five of his men, Mason now intended killing the remaining three left behind that morning.

  One of them was Paul Webb. Jonah felt bad for him. He didn’t deserve to die over this. But what was he to do? If he somehow persuaded Mason to spare him, he risked Mason finding out that neither Webb nor the other two had played any part in the ambush earlier. It left Jonah in a quandary, one he had no idea how to resolve. All he could do was see how things played out.

  They reached the turn for the lodge. Mason slowed down and pulled into the driveway. He looked around at his men. “Remember what I told you. Once Gatto’s men see us, they’ll know why we’re here. We shoot on sight. Everyone got that?”

  “Yeh better believe it,” a tight-lipped Jonah replied. “No mercy shown, none expected.”

  They reached the top of the drive. Mason swung into the lot and pulled up beside a red Toyota truck. “Sloppy,” he said, looking around. “They’ve left no one on guard.” He turned in his seat. “Where do you think they are, Murph?”