by Rob Buckman
"Double crossing bitch!" He muttered. The remainder of the night passed peacefully with no further disturbance.
As a rock dropped into a quiet pool will cause ripples to spread outward, so the events of the last few days caused ripples to spread outward, touching and disturbing the sleep and lives of many people. Unseen watches duly reported their observation, who in turn passed them up the line. Had Roland Hawkins known of the events unfolding around him, he wouldn't have spent such a peaceful night. Like the eye a hurricane, all was peace and tranquil at the center, the storm yet to hit.
"Gentleman, how are you this morning?" Roland Hawkins asked, smiling and shaking hands with his remaining guests. Many had departed in the early hours of the morning, citing pressing business elsewhere for leaving without the usual courtesies, or breakfast. He sat down at the table as his plate was placed in front of him, ham and eggs done to perfection and piping hot, as per his instructions. "Very good." He commented to his valet.
"Weather is starting to turn nasty." One of the men said. "Looks like we could be in for some snow." A heavyset man eyed out the window, and he wasn't just talking about atmospheric conditions.
"Yes, it has the tendency to do that this time of year." The other men from Vegas went on eating, just nodding in greeting, saying nothing.
"What was all that commotion last night?" The congressman asked. It smelled like trouble, and the further he got from it the better. He wouldn't feel perfectly safe until he reached his office at the Capital.
"Oh that." Roland Hawkins said, casually dismissing it with a wave of his fork. "As I told you earlier. I am having some trouble with one of the local ranches." Roland Hawkins munched egg and bacon for a moment. "It appears he came here last night and shot up one of the security vehicles."
"Anyone hurt?" There were shrewd looks passed around the table, none believed his comment, all thinking it was time to leave.
"Good heavens no. One security guard received a small cut, when he fell over, clumsy fellow."
"Glad to hear it. Wouldn't do for the papers to find out about me being here with anything unpleasant going on." Hawkins was lying in his teeth and the Senator knew it.
"My security people have the situation well in hand."
"Good. Good. My friend and I will be saying our farewells after breakfast anyway. Have to get back to business and all that."
"I understand perfectly. It is not good to be away from the main stream of events for too long. One can never tell when someone might pull the rug out from under you. Politically speaking that is." They both laughed, neither missing Roland's veiled threat. That they were leaving due to the gunfire last night was obvious. They didn't want to be in the vicinity should anything happen, or the newspapers get hold of it.
"You will be coming to my next party won't you?" It was not a question.
"Oh yes! Of course, dear fellow, wouldn't miss one of your parties for the world. I just hope you would have it in a more civilized place, instead of out in the back woods."
"I should be returning to Washington in the near future and will be giving one then."
"Good. Good." The four men gave each other a veiled look, breathing a sigh of relief. The situation was getting a little too hot around here. None of them believed the cock and bull story about the shooting. All knew a firefight when they heard it. Someone had been on the receiving end of a shit storm last night. It was a sure bet that Hawkins security men had come away with a little more than a few cuts. The quicker they put some distance between this place and them the better they would feel.
Later, Roland Hawkins watched as the limousine pulled down the driveway, taking his three pet politicians to the airport and back to Washington. Sitting down again, he sipped his third cup of coffee, looking at the rest of the men around the table.
"Gentleman. Now that our guests have departed, we can get down to business."
"Too right. I'm getting fed up with being polite to those assholes." One of the other two men around the table said. Even if they were in a similar type of business, he didn't have to like them.
"It's because of those assholes, as you call them, that we have such a profitable business. They have their uses. Now then, down to business."
"Before we do that, what's the situation on this guy Grainger, is he dead or what?"
"I'm sorry to say no. The men who were hired, bungled the job. At the moment he is running around up in the hills, or is back up at his house on Thunder Mountain." None of the men at the table dared criticize the situation. In one way or another, Roland Hawkins held power over them. That did not stop them thinking however.
"So where do we stand on obtaining that land?"
"All is in order, it's only a matter of time before Grainger is dead and we can move in."
"You getting more men?"
"Yes. This time I have hired the best. I can assure you that by the end of the week at the late Mr. Grainger will be no more than a memory."
"What about the girl?"
He thought about it for a moment. It would be pleasant to play with her for a while, pleasant indeed. The thought of beating her into submission thrilled him, but no, there was too much of a risk, she would have to go.
"As pleasant, as it would be to keep her, as you saw on the tape, I have decided that now I have her quit claim deed I no longer need her, and to let you have her, at a price of course."
"What about our money?"
"You may extract as much as you can out of her partner and dispose of him any way you see fit. The remainder you can take from the girl. I'm sure that after you have indoctrinated her, a large portion could be recouped from video films. The rest, or additional profit could be obtained by introducing her to the world oldest profession." A thought struck him. "In fact I would insist on it. As you are aware, we are in the process of training a stable of girls to become part of the semi permanent staff for our Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe operations. Plus our soon to be built facility here in 'Peregrine Creek'. Ms. Ballard would make a superb addition, at least for a while." To Roland Hawkins way of thinking, this idea had a certain irony to it.
The irony wasn’t lost on the others, either. That raised a chuckle around the table, a few enjoying the thought of personally indoctrinating her. After that, they turned to other business, mainly concerned with the importation, processing and distribution portion of the business venture. Later that day men started arriving, hard men, carrying long bulky, zip up duffel bags. Even the men from Vegas stayed out of their way. They knew soldiers when they saw them. They also knew these men were in a league ahead of the people they usually hired, and not to be fucked with.
One by one, they came in, talking to Will Bonner and receiving their instructions and down payment, a bank draft in a Swiss bank. The money had already been deposited and each used the telephone to transfer it to his or her account, two of the hit team were women. They were not the type you take home to mother, nor introduced to your local priest. That they preferred each other and disliked men was made plain from the outset. It didn't matter to the rest. Business was business and they could work with anyone.
Little was said in the security room, each going about his or her business of getting equipment ready with a quiet and professional efficiency. Talk and chatter not needed or wanted. Later that evening Will Bonner called them together, looking them over. Each was dressed for the dance in whatever they felt most comfortable, from woodland camo to black and dark gray. The weapons ran from High-powered sniper rifles to a Czech 'Skorpion' machine pistols. This was in the hands of one of the females, the other members of the team being equipped with an M16A2, thereby covering long and short distance shooting. Will nodded in approval.
"You look ready to me." They all nodded.
"What's the 'Intel' on this guy, and why so many of us?" It was a good question, and Will took his time answering.
"Some, or all of you might know Karl Williams and Bill Calhoun." He saw one or two nods from around the group.
"
I knew both of them. Good men, careful and persistent. They wouldn't go down easy."
"They did!" Bonner said it quietly, letting it fall softly between them.
"What!" Bonner's statement made all of them sit up and take notice.
"You're kidding!" One of the girls said, looking uneasy.
"You're saying this guy took them both out?"
He nodded. "You've got it. Last night he took out both of them at close range, with a knife. Both of them were good men and not FNG's. They'd been round the block a time or two and knew where the shit was coming from."
"They didn't this time." It was a sarcastic remark, and Will gave one of the women a dirty look. It rolled off her like water off a duck’s back.
"You're right on that point! And that's the point I'm trying to make people! They didn't know where it was coming from. Make sure you don't make the same mistake!" He drilled all of them with his eyes "Keep your mind on the job at hand, and your hands to yourselves." He looked at the two female members of the group. "Not between someone else's legs!" It was clear to all of them what he meant. "From what I've seen so far, this guy comes off as a pro. Possibly ex-military."
"Do we know if this guy is connected?"
"I've seen an FBI report on him, and it's a hundred and eighty degrees off. No reference to him having been in the military, and that don't go with what I've personally seen him do."
"Lucky amateur?" Someone asked.
"Like hell. You don't learn to creep up on two armed men on guard and stab them to death by playing hide the salami in the woods." He could see that he'd made his point. They all nodded.
"All right ladies and gentleman, let's use the remaining darkness to get into position. At first light we hope to flush him, so be on your toes."
"Rick and I will head back to the airfield." Bonner nodded as two men left, knowing what he meant. As they moved out the door, Will Bonner grabbed Edward by the shoulder, squeezing hard.
"Listen to me, you little shithead. Who the fuck gave you this file?!" He asked, fingers digging in, nodding at the file on the desk.
"OUCH!" Edward couldn't believe someone could squeeze that hard. "Our people in Denver. They will be working with you on this. Running interference so to speak." He spluttered, his face white with shock.
"I fucking well hope so, otherwise they’re dead." Will shoved him away and stalked out. He didn't like surprises, not one damn bit. That file smelled to high heaven. Not only did it have an FBI stamp on each page, it was still in the FBI jacket.
If Roland Hawkins had bought himself an FBI man or two, there was no telling how far this shit went up the ladder. After this was over, a change of identity would be a good idea, or even a change of county. That file smelled like trouble with a capital 'T'. The longer he stayed around here, the stronger his instinct to run became. If only he didn't need the money. Day or night made little difference to them, for the first part of the operation they preferred night, as it covered them as they moved into position. All used starlight or infrared as they moved across country. By dawn’s first light, they were all in position, waiting for sunrise.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Kat spent a miserable night, waking, cold and shivering as her guard from the night before entered the room. He grinned at her discomfort and threw a towel at her.
"Go take a shower bitch." He said, "Boss wants you clean and sweet smelling.” Walking across the room, he stood leaning against the door to the bathroom, waiting. Grinning at her discomfort, knowing that sooner or later she would have to get out of bed.
"You'll get use to it, now get your ass in gear, or do you want me to help you?"
Kat could see from his face that he was hoping she would object, thereby giving him an excuse to maul her. With as much dignity as she could muster, she climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Her attempt at closing the door failed, the guard simply pushing it open again and shaking his head.
"Boss said not to leave you alone for a minute, cuz you might do something to damage his property, like cut yourself?" He snickered at her obvious discomfort.
"Don't worry about it bitch, you're gonna have to get used to guys looking at you stark naked, from now on there's gona be a lot of them." Rather than give him any satisfaction of having to watch her urinate she quickly entered the shower, hoping for a little relief. No such luck, the moment she reached up to close the curtain the guard reached over and ripped it down. He snickered again, insolently leaning against the wall looking her over.
"You never know" he said offhandedly, "you might get to like it." Kat said nothing, concentrating on taking a shower and not putting on a show for him to enjoy. She also had the feeling that she had better shower properly or the guard might tell her to do it again. At least the hot water would warm her up, and the stream did cover her for a while.
Drying off she handed the towel back to him, much to his surprise and walked into the bedroom. After that, he left, but not before giving her one last look. To her dismay, she discovered that everything she could have used as a cover had been removed, right down to the bed sheet. For a while, she thought of ripping the bed cover up, then changed her mind, they would only come and take it away if she did. At last she sat by the window, watching the rain. It fitted her mood, cold and bleak. At least she could sit in a way that gave her some cover from the prying eyes of the camera, or so she hoped. By this time, her spirits were hitting rock bottom as, no matter how she looked at it, there was no way she could see to improve her position. For whatever reason Roland Hawkins was going to get his pound of flesh no matter what. She kept asking herself the same question, why? What had she ever done to Roland Hawkins to warrant this kind of treatment? He'd given her no clue why he was doing this, unless? Kat pondered the problem a long while, looking at all the twists and turn. The one detail that stood out in her mind was one odd fact. Of all the documents she'd signed, the one he was most interested in getting her signature on was the quit claim deed for the property up on Thunder Mountain. But the same question came up again, why? She didn't own it, Mike did... or had! Now he was dead. She shivered, but not from the cold. It wasn't right. How could you kill someone as strong and so self confident as Mike Grainger? She could still feel where he'd kissed her on the hand that first night. And where he'd held her the night before, his strong arms surrounding and protecting her. Not that she needed it, or did she? Looking around at her present situation, she definitely needed someone. She'd walked into this like a lamb to the slaughter with her eyes wide open, and never saw it coming. That her late unlamented partner had started this chain of events, she blamed herself. She should have known better. She should have checked the books herself, instead of taking her partner’s word for it. With An effort, she pulled her mind back out of its downward spiral toward depression and concentrated on her original thought. Mike was the legal owner. If he died with no heirs, the property would go into probate, or would it? Unless Roland Hawkins had a forged bill of sale showing he bought it from Mike! That was the reason for the quit claim deed. If someone did question Mike's ownership of the land and it was judged to belong to the original owner, he was covered.
"Damn him! Damn him to hell!" She muttered. "He had it covered from the first moment." Kat was willing to bet that he'd tried to buy the land from Mike and been turned down. That was the reason for this little party, get rid of both possible owners at one stroke, leaving him in clear title to the property. Now the hard question, why go to all that trouble to get possession of a worthless piece of land? So what was it about the land that made it worth killing for?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Twice during the day, Mike moved his position, first carefully surveying the surrounding terrain before making his move in the opposite direction to Thunder Mountain. He knew they would think he'd head that way, and it would be the first place they’d look. He didn't hurry, taking his time before each move, expecting them to come after him. That went without saying, but with whom? Most of the group he shot up
would be in no shape to move, so that mean that they would be bringing in new talent. That mean better people, unless he missed his guess. Now the game was turning interesting. He could count on one hand the number of men who were in his class, but none of them in this line of work. So, that meant freelance. If that was the case, he might be in trouble. To his knowledge, there were quite a few people in the world he wouldn't like to tangle with. Knowing he’d come up on the fuzzy end of the lollypop if he did. But with the time element involved, he doubted they would have time to go too far afield. That meant they’d have to use people they could find in country, and available and able to fly here within twenty-four hours. They dare not let him run around longer than that. It would give him too much time to go into hiding and possibly stir up trouble they'd have difficulty suppressing.
Mike put himself in their shoes, like his Grandfather had taught him. 'Become your enemy.' He would say. 'Think and reason like your enemy, and you will know your enemy. You will know what he will do before he knows'. He'd been right. Mike had two edges that his enemies didn't. One, he didn't care whether he lived or died and two, he never ever underestimated himself or his enemy. Now the game was down to where he liked it, his skill, and courage against the odds. The bigger the odds the better he liked it, for in winning, and defeating your enemy, you know your true strength. It was now kill or be killed, and any resemblance to a normal compassionate human being had vanished the moment they had pulled the trigger. He no longer had to be polite, or walk the razor’s edge between legal and illegal. There would be no warning shot, no qualms about shooting them in the back. He’d shoot them any way he could get them, knowing that they would do the same. It was almost like coming out of jail. He was free, he was home. Right where he belonged. Setting up in a small cave, he used his field stove to heat water for food and coffee. Max and company looked after themselves by chasing rabbits and other small game, appearing satisfied with the fare.
