Heart of Stone (HOS Book 1)

by Rob Buckman

  "I told you once to shut up Karl. I won't tell you again." He hadn't raised his voice. He didn't need to. Karl shut up. It didn't pay to push Will Bonner too far. He was the kind of man that could make living very painful for you.

  "Thank you Mr. Bonner. It's refreshing to find a man who can keep order in the ranks." Edward said, fascinated by the brutal power of the man.

  "I don't know about order. I just tell them to do something and they do or I break an arm."

  "How you maintain discipline is your department." He saw a ruthlessness in Bonner that was a cut above Roland Hawkins. This man wouldn't hide behind other men, or get them to do his dirty work. He'd do it himself and damn the consequences.

  "So what's the deal?" Bonner asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. He had other important problems to take care of.

  "Simple. When that man leave this house tonight, he is never to be seen alive again, anywhere. Is that understood?"

  "It is. But why ten men? This guy a hard-ass or something?" Bonner asked. Something didn't jell and he'd started getting that itchy feeling.

  "It's just a precaution, in case he should get away from you in the first instance. If so, you have enough men to hunt him down. As to his fighting abilities, we have no way of ascertaining them."

  "So why not just get him somewhere on the side and blow him away?" Karl asked. His eyes still fixed on the monitor.

  "We tried a similar action a few days ago, and according to the reports he was ready, anticipating trouble in advance. Your employer wants no action to take place in the house, the other guest you know."

  "I see." Bonner wasn't sure he did.

  "We don't care how ready he is this time. Your people should be able to take care of it shouldn't they?"

  "I don't see why not, unless you haven't told us all you know!" The little alarm bell in the back of his head was ringing away.

  "I've told you everything." Edward could feel the sweat popping out on his forehead as he told the lie. "Let’s assume for the moment that he has something. What we don't know, but I would suggest, and I mean only suggest, that you take adequate precautions to ensure that the job is done correctly." He hoped that would divert attention away from him.

  Will Bonner looked at Edward. He didn't like him, but that didn't matter. He'd worked for men he didn't like before. But he had the feeling that this twit wasn't telling the whole truth. The little warning bell was clanging away now, especially every time he looked at the monitor. There was something about the target that raised his hackles. He'd taken this deal as an additional bonus to the other of guarding three tanker tanks on the trip up from Miami. Not that he had any scruples about killing someone he didn't know, he didn't. The money for this job was ten times what he'd been paid for guarding the trucks. The rest of the men didn't mind the additional work either.

  "What about friendly’s?" He asked at length.

  "Friendly’s?" Edward asked, having no idea what he was talking about.

  "Yeah. You know. People on our side." The warning bells went off again. From the sound of it, this was strictly amateur night.

  "Oh. You mean our security personnel" he said with a laugh. "Well, we have that covered. The perimeter of the fence is patrolled by armed guards, plus we have others placed at strategic places around the property."

  "Oh Shit!" Someone in the back muttered. Will Bonner shook his head.

  "Damn it! Get them the fuck out of there and back to this house. NOW!" He growled. Edward took a step back in shock. He was not use to anyone talking to him that way anymore.

  "See here..." He started to say.

  "Look, you little shithead! If we have to go chase him. I don't want my men having to stop and ask if it’s all right to blow some fuckers head off each time we bump into someone!" He almost hissed the last few word in the man’s face to make his point.

  "I hadn't thought of that. But if he should head for the fence, and tries to gets away?" The thought of having to tell Roland Hawkins that appalled him.

  "It won't matter, we'll get him no matter where he goes."

  "I'll see to it right away." Edward left the room as quickly as possible. Roland Hawkins frightened him, but these men scared the living day lights out of him.

  "Be sure you do, when we go out of the door we shoot first and let the devil sort out which is the right one."

  "Fucking amateur!" Someone said as Edward left, closing the door behind him, but not quick enough to cut off the comment.

  Alex Murphy looked at the screen again with narrowed eyes, not liking what he saw, not one dam bit. Nodding to the two men with him, he backed away from the rest into a corner. Keeping his eyes on the other group as he spoke in a low tone.

  "I think we had better pass on this gig."

  "How come?" one man asked. Knowing Murphy wouldn't do anything without a good reason.

  "Let’s just say, it's the wrong time, wrong place, wrong target."

  "You going soft on us Alex?" Murphy pushed his field cap back and shook his head, unable to take offense at the question. He was asking them to turn down a lot of money.

  "On this one, yes. I personally want no part of it."

  "The money’s good."

  "Fuck the money, you can't spend it in hell!" He snapped.

  "What eating you Murphy."

  "I know that guy out there."

  "So what?" Murphy looked at each man in turn, gauging the potential reaction to what he was about to say.

  "All three of us were in the Marines, but you weren't in Nam. I was. It’s thanks to that man out there I'm here today."

  "So you owe him. I can buy that. We make it quick and clean."

  "It’s not just that. I think these guys better get in a good supply of body bags. They are going to need them!" That made the other two straighten up and take notice.

  "He that good?" One asked.

  "Better! Much better."

  "So you’re saying we should bug out?"

  "Damn right. They might get him, but I doubt it. If they do, it’s going to cost them, cost them dearly."

  "What about these guys?"

  "Some of them your family?"

  "Shit no!"

  "It’s their funeral then."

  "What about the big guy?" One of them said, nodding towards the monitor. That was a problem. If someone approached him right now, he might take the warning the wrong way. If they tried to interfere, they could end up in body bags themselves.

  "When we see him leave, we bug out before him and make a bit of a commotion at the gate. That should clue him, and maybe give him time to get clear. It's all we can do, unless you guys feel like taking on this bunch."

  "Hell! There's no profit in that."

  "Damn! I wish I could do more. This guy deserves better" Murphy muttered. Images of a dark night in 'Nam' flashed before his eyes. A night that never seemed to end.

  He could still hear the screams of the wounded and dying all around him. For the first time in the country he was really scared, and never wanted to be that way again. The NVA were slowly chopping them to bits, a piece at a time. First one outpost would go dark, then another as they drew back into a tighter and tighter circle. No one thought they’d see daylight again, not home and family. Somewhere around midnight, the incoming rounds slacked off, and a deadly silence fell over the surrounding countryside. Every one anticipated the worst, thinking the NVA were about to charge and finish them off. It didn't happen, in fact, nothing happened, the silence simply dragged on and on, driving them crazy. Then the screaming started again, screams of pure terror. This time it was coming from the other side. As the sun rose, a solitary figure came towards them out of the misty dawn, looking like something out of hell. He was dressed like an apache warrior from a Western movie, complete with war paint. It didn't take long for the word to travel down the line. It was the 'Comanchero'. Everyone looked in awe as he walked through the camp. He never said a word, just nodded to a few men as he passed, picking up some ammo and
supplies before vanishing back into the jungle. With some trepidation, they searched the bush, finding dead NVA everywhere, all taken out at close range with a knife.

  "You call it Murphy, we'll follow."

  He was stuck. If they changed sides, it would be two to one, with no help from anywhere. If he didn't help this guy, he might end up in a body bag. But remembering that night, he made up his mind. Given half a chance there was no way this bunch of clowns could take him. Even if, he was half as good as he was back then. No, he would not interfere. He'd give him the best break he could and let them have at it, laying money on the big guy.

  "We walk" was his last comment.

  CHAPTER TWELVE:

  Mike felt as if his heart would explode the moment he walked on to the dance floor. Afraid any moment she would see him and walk away. What made him do it? He never knew, or cared. Only that his feet started walking, carrying him out onto the floor. His arm came up, his finger tapping the man on the shoulder. Then, she was in his arms, warm and alive, her perfume over-powering his senses. She hadn't run away, yet. Did she really know it was him? Slowly, he turned his head and met her eyes, they lowered not at all. First the startled look and the slight stiffening of her body. She's going to run, he thought, but the mood and music wove their magic spell and she stayed. Her blue/green eyes becoming his world, his universe, his all. Her warm body slowly molding itself to his as they danced. Danced? No, not danced. They made love to each other out on that floor in front of fifteen or twenty people and they never knew. He could feel her body responding to his every move until he no longer had to lead, each in total harmony with each other. Both souls entwined with the rhythm of the music, letting it lead and control them so they could concentrate on each other.

  Still he was not sure. Of its own accord his head turned, his intentions clear, seeing something in her eyes... what? Fear, hate, revulsion? No. Surprise, yes! Then something else, something he couldn't identify. He lower his lips to hers, feeling them open like some fragile flower to his touch, tasting the honey he knew waited there for him. The pleasure he felt then was like a shock, sending his senses into overdrive. Did the ground move?! No, his whole universe moved. Crumbling around him, and crashing to the ground, the old life gone. It left a clear, clean landscape on which to rebuild his life, a life with her. Like all good things, they come to an end too quickly. And so did their dance, as the band took a break. The light returned to normal, bringing them back to earth. Roland Hawkins met them as they came off the floor, looking none too pleased at what he'd seen.

  "I find it somewhat surprising that you would stand that close to this man my dear." He said. "Seeing he might be implicated in your father death!" It was deliberate, calculated. Kat got the first shot off, a deep blush covering her face and shoulders, her mind going into shock.

  "There is no proof that Mr. Grainger had anything to do with my father’s death." She said defensively, trying to understand why Roland Hawkins was doing this. Mike got the second shot. A week ago, no, fifteen minutes ago, he would have taken Roland Hawkins head off and handed it to him. But not now, something had changed.

  "And who said that I had anything to do with his death in the first place?"

  "Why Ms. Ballard did of course." Kat gasped, not knowing what to say for a moment. It was a lie. Roland Hawkins had told her that. Roland Hawkins took advantage of that moment.

  "I'm sorry Mr. Grainger. I thought you knew. Ms. Ballard asked for my help in reopening the investigation into her father's death. She thinks you might have had something to do with it."

  "Kat?" Mike looked at her. "Did you! Are you! Do you think that I had something to do with it?" She couldn't answer. The truth was written on her face.

  "Is that why you asked me up here?" he growled, his face and heart turning back to stone.

  "Good havens no." Roland Hawkins said, delighted at the way this was progressing. "It's just that, due to the allegations, Ms. Ballard and I thought that if you were to sell the land back to her for what you paid for it, this would alleviate some, if not all the suspicion of your involvement in this affair." It wasn't the truth. Even if Kat Ballard denied it, he wouldn't believe her. Mike looked at Kat for a moment. Then turned his attention back to Roland Hawkins. His face like stone, the mask moving back into place.

  "And how would it do that" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

  "Simple my boy. If you had nothing to do with his death, or in some way fixing the sale, it would go a long way to clearing your name of any suspicion of wrong doing in this matter." Roland Hawkins placed his arm around Kat Ballard's waist, adding fuel to the fire, before continuing.

  "You must realize that, if Ms. Ballard can produce a document showing that the tax lien was paid by her father, then she would be the rightful owner of the property. Eventually the court will find in her favor, nullifying the original sale. If you were to sell to her, there would be no court case and no real reason to reopen the investigation."

  "First, I'm not your boy! Second, I had nothing to do with the death of Ms. Ballard's father. In the matter of the sale, I think you will find that nothing was out of order."

  "Even if I can produce a receipt from the county assessor’s office showing he paid off the tax lien?" Kat interjected, the lawyer coming to the surface.

  The moment she said it she wished the words had been still born, or could be recaptured. If they were never uttered the world would have gone along a different path, one not littered with death and destruction, or so blood soaked. But she had said them, and not even the power of God could change that. 'The moving finger writes, and having written moves on...' Kat Ballard realized the truth of those immortal words.

  For once Mike was stumped. If that was true, a court could find that there should have been no sale in the first place. He would then have to return the land to its rightful owner. She would have to pay the price he paid for it. Plus any improvements he made. He felt the coldness return, sinking towards subzero, and hope dying in the heart of stone before it could be bore. Again, he saw the world as he did before, cold, cynical, and without any feeling of compassion.

  'Damn it to hell! She conned me!' He thought 'The whole bit on the dance floor was just her way of softening me up for the sales pitch.' It had almost worked. She had knocked him so far off balance he had just about fallen for it.

  "No Hawkins. It won’t work! If, and when, and I said if, such a document can be produced I will consider the matter. Until then, you and your girlfriend can go to hell."

  "Is that your final word?" He covered his feeling of joy very well, hoping to pound the last nail into the coffin.

  "No. He snapped. "Go pound sand in your ass, shit head. That goes for you too sweetheart." At another time, the expression on Kat's face would have told him the truth. Now it was too late. Kat looked at him. Expecting to see anger or loathing on his face. She saw nothing. Had she been able to look behind the mask she might have seen, for at least a moment, a look of sorrow and disappointment. Mike turned and walked away, missing Roland Hawkins slight smile. It was not a nice smile. 'For that Mr. Grainger, you will pay a high price.' He thought. In desperation, Kat ran after him, grabbing his arm.

  "Please Mike. I had nothing to do with this..."

  "Look lady, I told you before, go play with somebody else. I'm not interested. You and Rolass over there can have a good laugh over how you almost conned me, while you and him play kinky games." The reaction was automatic.

  She slapped him as hard as she could. Mike saw it coming, but he didn't even bother to stop it this time. It just made his point. He smiled, his left cheek aflame, burning out the utter stupidity he'd been thinking of on the dance floor.

  'Shit! I was right all along. This world is a rotten place to live in. Thank God, I don't have to.'

  With that, he departed. Heading for his vehicle, his silent burglar alarm already telling him that someone had searched it. The second alarm was silent. Informing him, that whoever it was, had not found the hidden comp
artment in the back. He smiled, and like Roland Hawkins's smile, it wasn't a nice smile. Kat Ballard was torn in two. Her heart said run to him and get down on her knees and beg him to listen. Her mind said get mad and get even. Her mind won this time.

  "Damn You! You arrogant, self-centered son of a bitch. You misbegotten son of a whore. You...you...you asshole. You...!" But she was lost for words. In anger, she stamped her foot. A childish act, as it only hurt her foot, making her angrier. Turning she stormed back across the room to Roland Hawkins.

  "I want that man's head!" she hissed. Roland smiled. The time was ripe.

  "I shall see what I can do to grant you your wish my dear. Shall we go to my office? I have one or two items of business we should discuss. Hopefully, we can come to an agreement." Taking her arm Roland Hawkins led her away, nodding to Edward as he passed, signaling for him to go ahead. Now it was time to close the deal.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

  "You searched the vehicle Karl?" Bonner asked.

  "Sure did. You think I'm going to trust those bozos in security to do it."

  "Find anything?"

  "Clean as a whistle. Not even a nail file in there."

  "So he's clean?"

  "It looks that way. No way could he hide much in that monkey suite he’s wearing, or you'd see it."

  "He might be able to hide a knife or small auto. We'd better not take any chances. By the way, were did Murphy and the other two go?"

  "No idea! They took off about ten minutes ago.

  "They say where they were going?"

  "No."

  "Damn it. They know better than to go wandering off at a time like this." The little warning bell in his head went off again. At that moment, Edward walked in, looking pleased with himself.

  "It's time to go to work. Are your men in position?"

  "The ones on the gate are, but three have just left."

  "Left? What do you mean left?"

  "I mean they bugged out without a word."

  "I don't understand."

  "Neither do I, right now. That can wait until later. We're going to take off without them, in case this joker makes a break for it."