Another officer, who sported a droopy Wyatt Earp moustache, put up his hand. ‘Pardon me, Sheriff. Did you say we’re actually mountin’ a raid on Garrett Island?’
This was unheard of. Generations of Clovis Parish law enforcement officers had made a point of staying away from the place, like a corner of the garden so infested with weeds that they preferred to forget its existence and leave it to its own devices.
‘You heard me right, Trey,’ Roque replied. There were a lot of murmurs and shaking heads. The sheriff hushed the chatter down with a gesture.
‘Now listen up, people. I know each and every man and woman in this room, and I have faith in your ability as the best law enforcement officers it’s ever been my honour to work with. I’m askin’ you to volunteer for a special task force to go in there and get these people out. It ain’t gonna be easy. The Garretts are hardcore crooks, as everyone in Clovis Parish knows all too well. They’ve been a blight on our community for as long as we all can remember. It’s about time we got shot of ’em, once and for all.’
Roque motioned an arm towards Ben. ‘Now, this fella here, I don’t need to introduce. Y’all know a bit about him already.’
‘We sure do,’ Wyatt Earp said dryly, and got a few laughs.
Someone else said, ‘What’s he doin’ here, Sheriff?’
‘Mister Hope is comin’ on board this operation as a special adviser,’ Roque explained. ‘Now I know this is all a mite irregular, but you’re just gonna have to bear with it for now. We ain’t never dealt with a delicate hostage situation of this nature before, and I’m pleased to have him along for the ride. Yes, Officer Fruge?’
The ginger-haired muscleman had a question. ‘Okay, but I don’t get why it’s gotta fall on us? The FBI have their special hostage rescue team all set up to handle stuff like this.’
‘This man trains HRT agencies from all over the world,’ Roque said, pointing at Ben. ‘He’s as expert as anyone at this kind of job. Plus we have a serious time element to consider. Our parish is a helluva long way from Quantico, Virginia, and there just ain’t enough clock goin’ spare to sit around waitin’ for the fibbies to copter in and take charge of our lil’ problem for us. It’s my belief we can resolve this ourselves. Are y’all with me?’
‘We’re with you, Sheriff,’ the white female officer said.
‘Yowzah,’ said another.
Ben stepped forward, wanting to wrap up the briefing as fast as possible. ‘Gentlemen and ladies, this is a stealth raid. Our objective is to infiltrate Garrett Island undetected shortly before nightfall tonight, then launch a surprise attack while at the same time locating and extracting the hostages. I’ve proposed organising our force into four units of five men each, designated Teams A, B, C and D. Sheriff Roque will head up B Team. I’ll be with A team.’
‘Adviser,’ the white female cop muttered out of the corner of her mouth, a little too loudly. ‘Adviser my fuckin’ ass.’
Roque snapped, ‘That’s enough talk, Officer Hogan.’
‘The island is accessible only from a single point,’ Ben went on. ‘We don’t have time to float rigid inflatables down the Bayou Sanglante and we can’t afford to make a helicopter drop for reasons of noise, so we’ll be going in that way. Once we gain access to the island, we’ll split up into our respective teams and move into position.’
‘And the Garretts’re just gonna let us waltz in there easy as pie?’ said a tall African-American officer who stood behind Hogan.
‘I’ll be very surprised if they do,’ Ben said. ‘Which is why I’ve prepared this equipment inventory.’ He picked up the sheet of paper from the desk. ‘Every raid team member will be issued with a semi-automatic carbine and two full magazines, sixty rounds of ammunition. I’ve also included night-vision equipment, and ballistic vests for every team member as well as extra for the hostages, rated to stop a 7.62 NATO rifle bullet at the minimum. For transportation, we’ll proceed to the target in five unmarked Ford Explorer interceptors, backed up by an armoured SWAT vehicle into which we’ll load the hostages, once recovered, to protect them from any gunfire we might encounter during exfiltration.’
Wyatt Earp said, ‘I thought you said this was a stealth raid. Sounds more like we’re fixin’ to start World War Three.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Officer Hogan. She was getting all worked up and looked game for a major battle. Ben made a mental note to pick her for his A Team so that he could keep an eye on her. The big ginger-haired one, too. But the tall African-American officer looked more level-headed.
‘I expect resistance,’ Ben said. ‘But if we do this right, I’m confident the operation can be pulled off successfully without the need for undue force and no casualties suffered on either side. Okay? Any more questions?’ He scanned the room. A few shaking heads, a lot of fierce excitement. Any trepidation over the idea of setting foot on Garrett Island seemed to have left them. Nobody had anything to ask.
Ben said, ‘Now, time is of the essence, folks. We need to be ready to roll in short order.’ Turning to Roque he asked, ‘Sheriff, how quickly do you think you can get all this gear together?’
‘We’re emptyin’ out the armoury, even as we speak,’ Roque said. ‘Everythin’ but a tactical nuke.’
Ben said, ‘Fine. Then let’s get to it.’
Chapter 55
Jayce had been indoors, stuck to the television, ever since the news broke earlier about Ben Hope’s arrest. He was raging, because now it turned out that his plan to incriminate Hope for the murder of the Landreneau woman had worked so damn well it was coming back to screw things up.
As he watched, his mind was busily working through the ways they could still get to Hope even behind bars. Jayce had plenty of contacts in prison. One call, and he could muster up a gang of good ole boys who’d be only too happy to take care of business for him. Dip dip dip, pop pop pop, they’d stab him so full of shiv holes you could use him as a colander, and that would be it for the Limey sonofabitch. Job done.
But such an outcome would deprive Jayce of the pleasure of doing it himself, and it was irking him.
Then all of that suddenly changed when KLAX interrupted their schedule with the latest news update.
Jayce perched on the edge of his armchair and watched as the TV cut to a clip of reporters clamouring outside the Villeneuve courthouse. There stood the sheriff, surrounded by microphones and looking edgy and sour as he made the unexpected announcement that the suspect had been released without charge. Yes, we are still pursuing this murder investigation. No, we have no other suspects at this time. No further comment.
Jayce permitted himself a small smile of satisfaction at this turn of events. Things might just work out, after all.
He blipped off the TV, got up and went to the fridge and grabbed himself a Swamp Pop. Filé Root Beer, his favourite. He tipped the neck of the bottle in a silent toast to his improved fortunes, and look a long celebratory swig. He’d glugged down half the bottle when his phone began to burr in the back pocket of his Wranglers. He fished it out and checked the caller ID before answering.
‘Yo. Talk to me, bitch.’
The caller’s voice yakked agitatedly in his ear. Jayce listened calmly, said nothing more, and when he’d heard everything he needed to hear he turned off the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
Jayce left the room, walked out of the house into the late afternoon heat and headed over to the clubhouse. Bubba Beane was alone in there, sitting on the edge of the pool table where he had all the components of his MAC-10 submachine gun laid out on the green baize. He was using an oily rag to clean the parts before putting it all back together, a ritual he observed several times daily whether he fired the weapon or not. Machine gun fishing was a popular pastime on the island.
‘Seen Seth?’ Jayce asked, standing in the doorway.
Bubba looked up from his task and replied, ‘Uh-huh. He’s down at the pontoon with that nigger woman and them niglets. The other kid, too. I do feel sorry for that poo
r white boy, bein’ raised with porch monkeys.’ Bubba shook his head with a sigh, lamenting the state of modern America.
Jayce said, ‘What’s he doin’ down there?’
‘Guess he thought they needed a little exercise,’ Bubba said with a shrug as he wiped some excess oil off his bolt mechanism.
‘Hm.’ You didn’t waste words on a man you had once disfigured with a Bowie knife. Jayce turned and left the clubhouse. He crossed the compound to where the communal quad bikes were parked, and saw that two of them were gone, along with the small cage trailer. He climbed on the Kawasaki that was left, fired up the motor and went speeding off eastwards down the rough track that led through the woods and sloped down to the waterside.
Before he even got close, he could hear the screaming.
Sure enough, Seth was down on the pontoon. Floyd was with him. As Jayce had already sussed out from all the noise, the pair were in the process of merrily tormenting the prisoners. They’d rigged up a rope harness around the little girl and hooked her up to the cable, dangling her over the water from the end of the boom arm. Seth and a manically cackling Floyd were flinging chunks of meat hacked from a fresh deer carcass into the bayou. The surface of the water was being churned pink by at least nine or ten gators thrashing about in a feeding frenzy just a couple of metres below the dangling child. A lot of the shrill screaming was coming from her, as she gyrated round and round and wriggled in terror on the end of the taut cable.
Seth and Floyd had tied the girl’s mother and the two boys to a tree close to the water’s edge, so they could watch the fun. Noah’s face was a mass of tears. Caleb was yelling wild obscenities at the men. Keisha was beyond hysterical and virtually in a faint, hanging limply from the rope that bound her to the tree.
Jayce dismounted from the Kawasaki and ambled over. Seth turned and greeted his brother with a wide grin. He’d invented a new way of assuaging his terrible grief over Logan’s death, and it seemed to be working. He’d even forgotten all about his sore arm.
Jayce said, ‘Goddamn it, Seth, I told you nothin’ was to happen to them until afterwards.’
‘Chill, Bro, we’re just havin’ some fun, is all.’
‘Got us a lil’ black-ass piece of gator bait. Hyuk, hyuk.’ Floyd was obviously having a good time, too.
‘Shame ol’ Cyrus ain’t showed up to join the party,’ Seth giggled. ‘He must be downriver someplace, makin’ baby gators.’
Jayce eyed the empty Dixie beer cans that littered the bank. ‘Reckon you’ve had enough amusement for one afternoon, boys. Floyd, how about you take the guests back to their accommodation so’s Seth and I can have a private conversation?’
‘Oh, sure thing, Boss. Hyuk.’ Floyd could see the serious look in Jayce’s eye and obeyed without hesitation. He swung the boom back over the pontoon and cranked the little girl down to the weathered planking. Trinity Hebert was rigid with shock, trembling and whimpering. Floyd unhooked the cable, picked her up and laid her inside the galvanised steel cage trailer they’d used to cart the prisoners out here. Then he drew a Ka-Bar from his belt sheath, slashed the ropes holding the rest of the family to the tree and bundled them into the trailer one by one. Keisha was too weak from emotion to put up any kind of fight. Caleb was a different matter, but a couple of hard slaps quietened him.
Floyd hopped onto the quad bike and sped off with the trailer rattling and bumping behind him.
Jayce looked at his brother. ‘Shit, Seth. What’d I say?’
‘Quit buggin’ me. Ain’t like we was doin’ no harm.’
‘Yeah, well, while you were havin’ your entertainment, I’ve been takin’ care of business. They just announced on the TV that Hope walked free from jail this afternoon.’
‘What, they just let him go?’
‘Free as a bird. Sheriff told the reporters they don’t have a clue who else to go lookin’ for. No other suspects at this time. His very words.’
Seth snorted, ‘What a bunch of asshats. So we’re back on with the plan, huh?’
‘Yup.’
‘Then I reckon the boys oughtta be hittin’ the road about now. They got a long drive to the Big Q.’
Jayce looked at his brother. ‘Nuh-uh. They’ll be hittin’ the road, but they won’t be goin’ to the Big Q.’
Seth pulled a frown and said, ‘Bro, what the hell are you talkin’ about? I thought the whole plan was, Hope gives himself up to us at the Big Q or else we carve up the woman and kids. Then Hope went and got himself arrested and there wasn’t no plan. But now it’s happenin’ again, just like before. Right?’
‘Wrong,’ Jayce said. ‘That was never the real plan.’
Bemused, Seth replied, ‘It wasn’t?’
Jayce shook his head. ‘That other shit was just the shit we told that double-dealin’ prick lawyer to tell Hope. Make’m think we’re a buncha hick dumbasses who’d actually come up with a bullshit plan like that.’
‘Okay,’ Seth said, thoroughly lost. ‘So then what’s the real plan?’
Jayce smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s real simple. Let me explain. Bubba and Floyd and the boys don’t need to go to the Big Q, because Hope ain’t gonna show up there. Never was. He’s way too smart to let himself be taken like that. He’s fixin’ to double-deal us.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because it’s what I’d do,’ Jayce said. ‘Because I’m smart. ’Cept I’m smarter.’
‘Double-deal us like how?’
‘Like by hittin’ us right here on the island, where we ain’t expectin’ to get hit. He’ll wait until he thinks our guys are on their way to collect him, then he’ll make his move, bettin’ on how fewer of us makes an easier target.’
‘It ain’t no big deal anyhow,’ Seth said. ‘He’s one guy. Okay, he burned up our moonshine operation and he done for Logan, but that was a sneak attack. This time we’ll be ready. What’ve we got to be afraid of?’
‘Oh, I ain’t afraid,’ Jayce says. ‘But he won’t be one guy. He’ll bring a whole bunch of cops with him.’
‘But the cops are done with him. Just because they let him walk, it don’t mean they’re on his side. Does it?’
‘’Fraid it does, Bro. Ain’t you gonna ask how I know?’
‘Hell, Jayce, you know everything.’
‘Matter of fact I don’t. But that’s what we have informants for. A certain friend of ours just called with a heads-up. Lettin’ us know that Hope and Waylon Roque are all buddy-buddy now. They’re gettin’ together a task force to pay us an unannounced visit and haul our asses in for murder, kidnap, you name it. Seems that our friend Mason up and went turncoat on us.’
‘Shit, you can’t hardly trust nobody these days. What’s the world comin’ to? So that was all a lie about “no more suspects at this time”.’
‘My, you’re catchin’ on fast, Seth.’
Seth kicked reflectively at the dirt. ‘This is bad, Jayce.’
Jayce nodded. ‘It’s bad, all right. Bad for them. Come with me. I want to show you somethin’.’
Chapter 56
They rode back towards the compound on their quad bikes. Just before the clubhouse, Jayce veered left. He rode down the beaten earth track past the underground hole where the prisoners were being kept.
It was the Garretts’ own take on a dungeon of old, though it dated back to previous generations of their clan, when imprisonment, starvation and torture of enemies, business rivals, snitches and other expendables had already been commonplace on the island. In earlier times it had just been a hole in the ground, bottle-shaped to make escape impossible, and covered with an iron grid. The present-day brothers had excavated it deeper and wider, lowered in a shipping container and backfilled the hole to bury the container completely except for a small access trapdoor from which a retractable ladder led down to the dark, dank bowels of the underground prison. There was a ventilation pipe, too, so that those incarcerated inside could get a little air, and the shaft was wide enough to drop a little
food and water down there from time to time. The Garretts weren’t all nasty, at heart.
By the time Jayce and Seth rode by, Floyd had finished putting the hostages back inside the dungeon, pulled up the ladder and padlocked the hatch. The brothers didn’t even glance at it. A little way further on down the track, Jayce pulled up next to a prefabricated steel building where they kept various trucks and cars, many of them stolen.
Behind a roll-up shutter door to the side of the main building was Jayce’s private lockup, to which he had the only key. The brothers shared most things, including women, but Jayce had always been secretive about what he kept inside the lockup. For about the last year he’d been working on some enigmatic ‘project’ that often led him to shut himself away in there for hours, sometimes whole days. During these absences, strange bangings and the screech of power tools could be heard from within, but he’d never wanted to talk about what he was working on.
It seemed that Seth was about to find out.
Jayce unlocked the shutter and hauled it up with a rattle and a screech. The lockup was long and deep, so that the light of the sinking sun only flooded the first few yards nearest the entrance. Seth peered through the doorway and blinked at the sight of what was inside.
The olive-green wooden boxes that lined the side walls of the lockup were stacked six feet high in places. Their sides were letter-stencilled in white paint and said things like 12 GRENADES, RECON MK1 FRAG W/FUSE M204A2 and AMMUNITION FOR CANNON WITH EXPLOSIVE PROJECTILES, with all kinds of lot numbers and designations that Seth couldn’t understand. All he knew was, this was fairly awesome. Once he started grinning from ear to ear, he couldn’t stop.
‘Holy moly, Bro, where’d you get this stuff?’
‘From them white power boys in Tennessee,’ Jayce replied. ‘But that ain’t what I wanted to show you.’
Jayce walked deeper into the shadows of the lockup and flipped on a light switch. A naked bulb dangling from the ceiling and hooked up to the generator circuit illuminated the depths of the space. There were workbenches and tool racks on both sides. Jayce had some heavy-duty hardware including a welding torch, oxy-acetylene cutter, bench lathe, angle grinder and pillar drill all messy with metal swarf. He’d been busy, all right.
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