by Rob Buckman
"No sweat. It's an easy walk from here." Kat didn't want to, but she turned her back while he got up and dressed in fresh clothes. Turning back as she heard him zip up his pants.
"You look at the weapons yet?"
"Sort of." She had and had been startled at the amount and assortment. It was like a mini arsenal. It started her wondering just who Mike Grainger was, and what he did for a living. Her own exposure to weapons was fairly broad. But the last time she'd seen this many different types of weapons was in a 'SWAT' team van.
"See anything you like and can handle?" He said it offhandedly, as if it was an everyday affair with him; maybe it was.
"That 9 mm, Mini-UZI assault pistol would do perfectly,” she said nibbling her lower lip, wondering what his reaction world be. He gave her a funny look.
Mike was pleased and a bit surprised. Many women pick guns up like they're holding a dead rat, thinking it would bite them any second. Kat on the other hand, had picked a weapon that could not be easily handled by a women, but packed as big a punch as the MAC 10. Also it wasn't so picky about the ammo it was fed. Spewing out slugs at a respectable nine hundred rounds a minute. He didn't ask her again if she could handle it; that she'd picked it answered the question. The question remaining was, how good was she with it.
"You want me to go through it with you?"
"No. A friend of mine on the police force had one. I went up to the range now and again and fired a few rounds through it."
"It's yours, you'll find ammo for it in the steel box over there, magazines as well, cleaning kit over there." Kat nodded handing him a plate of food.
"Eat this, you must be starved." He was, needing no second invitation to chow down.
He watched, as one by one she placed the various items on the camp table. First the weapon and the cleaning kit, then a pile of magazines and boxes of ammo. She stripped the Uzi, and cleaned each part before running a cleaning rod and swab down the short barrel. Using a Teflon based lubricant she oiled each part and re-assembled the weapon, checking the action and squeezing off two dry shots. Next, she started loading magazines with practice and ease, humming softly to herself. Mike nodded in approval, liking the way she took time to clean and oil the weapon. It made him feel good to hear her humming, thinking how he'd like to hear it again in his house up on Thunder Mountain. He knew from experience how boring loading magazines can be. And how sore your thumb could get. Turning his attention to his own weapons, he began the belated task of cleaning then, chiding himself for not doing it before going to sleep. Absorbed in the task, he was unaware that she was watching him. Wondering just who he was. It was engrossing to watch him work, his hands, and fingers slow and deliberate, yet in no time, he had stripped cleaned, checked and reassembled the odd weapon: plus each of the three weapons he'd been carrying having checked and loaded each before setting it aside.
"Can I get a second helping?" He asked, looking up at last, catching the steady gaze of her sea green eyes, the expression in them making him blush for the first time in many years.
"Yes Sir, coming right up." At least she wasn't looking at him anymore.
"Kat. Why did Roland whip you?" He watched her shoulders stiffen in shock. She didn't say anything for a few seconds, just stood still, looking down at the fire.
‘How did he know it was Roland who did it? A guess?' Had she said something in her sleep? "Why do you think it was Roland?"
"I saw him." He said, barely above a whisper.
"You saw him?! And you did nothing?" Her head whipped round.
"No, not like that." He said quickly, seeing her expression. "I thought it was a dream."
"A dream?" He scratched his chin, then shrugged his shoulders, unable to explain it to her right now.
"Then you didn't see Edward helping to chain me to the bed?" She asked.
"No. No, I didn't."
"Or when I kicked Roland in the crotch."
"You did?" He said with a hard edged laugh.
"Damn right. They made the mistake of thinking they could whip me into submission. The moment Edward unhooked me, I turn and nailed Hawkins in the crotch. I was only sorry I wasn't wearing shoes or boots at the time. Otherwise he'd be singing in soprano for the rest of his life." Kat snarled the last words.
"If I had seen him again, he wouldn’t be singing at all!"
"Are you going to kill him?" The question was asked in such a matter of fact tone of voice. It was as if she was asking if it was going to rain today.
"Yes." His answer was also a matter of fact.
"Is that wise?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Don't get killed doing it Mike."
"Why not?" The question was direct and to the point. But she couldn't answer.
If he was going to go out against the rest of those men, then kill Roland there was a good chance he wouldn't come back. Or he'd end up in the gas chamber. She couldn't bear the thought of that. If she committed herself and that happened, her life would be over. She'd given him a chance to commit himself and he hadn't taken it. Maybe he knew he wasn't coming back. At last, she looked at him over her shoulder. Saying the word she was suppose to say, sounding like a fool, knowing a deep need to tell him she loved him and didn't want him to be killed.
"Because he isn't worth it." Even to her it sounded lame.
"Lady! You don't know what the hell you're talking about." He didn't bother to hide the note of scorn in his voice. "This sucker came at me. Me! All I was doing was minding my own business when this started. I didn't ask for this, nor do I want it now." That slipped out without him wanting it. "But I'll be dammed if I'll sit by and let those fuckers out there kill me without trying to do something about it. Killing the man who hired them is just icing on the cake and common sense. I for one do not want to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life!" He was angry, that was plain, and he had every right to be. But it was wrong. In this game, emotions could be deadly, as it made for fuzzy thinking.
But it wasn't the hit men outside, nor Roland Hawkins that made him mad. They were just some garbage that needed taking out. No, it was Kat that was making him angry. She had stirred up emotions inside of him thought long dead. And he didn't know how to handle them. Should he kiss her? Make love to her? Hold her? He didn't know, except that he wanted her, wanted her like nothing else in his life. He didn't just want her now, and not just her body, he wanted all of her, body and soul forever, but he couldn't find the words to tell her. He didn't know how.
"Do you have any idea why Rolass is so bent on killing me?" Kat thought about it for a moment, then remembered.
"He said something about wanting the land."
"I knew that already." Mike was no better off, as it still didn't make any sense to him. "Is that all he said, nothing else?" Kat shrugged.
“No, I don’t think so.”
"It don't matter. I'm going to kill him anyway."
"It is revenge you want?! Is that why you're going to kill him?"
"Hell yes!" He snapped. "That, and other reasons. What he did to you, is one of them."
"Don't kill him on my account, what he did to me I've already taken my pound of flesh for. I don't need you to do any more for me." It didn't come out the way she wanted, knowing as soon as she said it that it was wrong, wishing she could take it back.
"Lady. I'm not doing it for you, but for myself. I would have thought that you would have liked me to take a little more for you."
'Not if you are going to get killed doing it.' She thought, unable to say the words.
"You know what they say about people who kill out of revenge? You will have to dig two graves."
"Yes and it's a bunch of crap," he snapped back. "What counts, is that when it's over the living can go on living and sleep a hell of a lot easier, plus I don't give a damn if I get killed or not!" It was a lie and Mike knew it. Kat's heart started to break. Maybe what she'd seen in his eyes and felt on her lips was a lie. He just wanted to take her to bed, that's all, nothing
more.
'I'm a damn fool.' She thought, one sparkling tear running down her face unseen. She brushed it away with the dreams.
"Here!" She snapped almost slamming the plate down in front of him. "I hope you enjoy your last meal before they kill you!"
"No way lady. No way this side of Hell." Mike dumped catsup over the eggs, bacon, and sausage and chowed down, hoping it covered his anger and shaking hands. He didn't even bother looking up at her knowing that if he looked into her eyes he was dead. He never saw the trace of the tear on her cheek, not the sadness in her eyes, nor the hand reaching out to touch him. At his words, the hand dropped in defeat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
Mike checked his and Kat’s equipment before settling his 'Starlight' goggles into place and switching them on. He then hooked an infrared detector unit to the outside of his jacket, and turning, saw Kat looking around her in wonder, her mouth open. For someone who'd never used them before, the effect could be quite startling. But it did have its dangers.
"Remember." He whispered. "If you see any light, do not look at it or you'll be blinded, and if I freeze you do the same." He saw her nod in response.
With the goggles on, they walked in a world devoid of color. Except green, or shades of black and gray. To Kat, it was beautiful. Mike watched her examining this strange world; wanting to reach out and touch her and hold her in his arms. He didn't do either. He couldn't afford any distractions at this point in time.
"Home Max. Home!"
Max didn't need to be told twice, taking off with a bound, Maxine following. He knew the way, so he didn't bother following them directly, taking an easier rout up the mountain. He knew he was not as strong as he should be and took his time, moving with care. With three days to move around freely, there was no telling where the remainder of the hit team was. Six remained, no, seven with the one called Bonner. He tried to anticipate where they might be, and what they might do. He gave up. They could be anywhere. He had to trust Max and Maxine to find them before he walked into something. Surprisingly they walked for an hour before Max came back, wagging his tail, and looking in another direction from the one they were following. He’d spotted something. Turning he walked in the direction Max's nose was pointing, carefully moving from bush to bush, tree to tree. He doubted that it was necessary, not from the way Max was acting. Coming up over a slight rise, natural light could be detected some ways off. Mike lifted the goggles, but even after his night vision returned he saw nothing, but it was there. Replacing them, he walked on, taking more and more care the closer he got. The light became so intense with the goggles on he took them off, motioning for Kat to do the same. Now fire light could be seen through the trees at the bottom of the slope and settling down beside a large pine tree, he scanned the camp with the scope.
* * * * *
"That sucker’s gone to ground I tell you!"
"I don't care if he has. I'm going to stay up here until I get him. He's got to come up for air sooner or later," Bonner said looking round the group.
There were four, including himself, the other three out running around the mountain in the hope of finding him. Good luck to them, he thought. There was nothing coherent about the group, all being independent contractors. All wanting the money for the job, plus the bonus promised to the man, or men who nailed Grainger. That was the one item that bothered him. There was no telling what would happen to whoever got Grainger. One or more of this lot would probably kill him and claim the money. All Will wanted was to get the money and get out. To get as far away from these people as he could, and go home and get clean again. If those two dikes had been alive, he knew they would be the ones to watch.
The other two bothered him as well, nothing he could put his finger on, but there was something about them that rubbed him the wrong way. They had taken his orders up to a point where they'd lost track of Grainger. At that point, both had bugged out, saying they were going hunting by themselves. He hated splitting his forces. Knowing there was the added danger of them shooting each other. Splitting up had proved fatal for the dike team. Not that it bothered him, now he didn't have to watch his back so much. Those two would have killed all of them and walked away laughing. They weren't laughing any more. A shiver went up his spine at how they had died. Both had been killed at close range, one by gunshots, and the other... He didn't want to think about. Whatever the hell had ripped her throat out, he didn't want to meet. Wolf? Wolverine? Something. It wasn't a good way to die, if any is. He just hoped that if he got it, it would be quick and clean, one second here, the next... For three days they had tramped back and forth across this mountain, not finding so much as a mark to show that Grainger or the girl had even been here. But Bonner felt they were still here and, also, something told him, he was in a war. And on performance to date, Grainger wasn't about to give up, no matter what. It was still a mystery how he took the chopper out. Unless he was carrying an 'RPG' or something around with him. The more he saw of this guy in action the less he liked it. The man was too damn good to be true. That file of Hawkins was a joke, even if it did have an FBI stamp all over it. This guy had a history that ran back a long way and included some heavy training somewhere, but where. It would be worth the bonus to find out, maybe then he could figure a way to get him. 'Dream on sucker' a voice in his head said. You get to do this the hard way. Suddenly a shot crashed out, shattering the quiet of the night. Immediately the camp erupted, one man kicking the coffee pot over, killing the fire, the rest scattering, seeking cover. Bonner flipped backwards over the tree he'd been sitting on and, reaching over, grabbed his rifle. The shot echoed off across the hill, and the silence returned, except for the sound of the fire sizzling into non-existence. The smell of coffee and burned wood lingered in the air, irritating the nostrils. Jack March flipped on the infrared scope on his rifle and swept the ridge and forest. He thought he had something but the flickering red and blue shadow vanished. Besides that, it was too small, about the size of a dog.
"He's gone." He said at last.
"Don't bet on it!"
"I tell you he's gone. There nothing out there but a few animals."
"I for one, am not going to take a chance and re-light the fire. You want, you go ahead, but let me get into the bushes before you do!" Bonner commented.
No one took him up on his offer. All staying where they were, and spent a sleepless night, cold and uncomfortable behind a tree or rock. The predawn cold ate into their bodies but still they didn't move, each in his own way knowing that could be fatal. The sun poking up over the ridge renewed their faith that they’d live another day.
"Ah shit! He got Eric!" Someone said.
One by one, they moved into a position where they could look into the camp, seeing Eric sprawled in death against the tree he'd been leaning against. If it wasn't for the fact that he didn't move, it would be difficult to tell he was dead. He looked more like a man sleeping. His eyes were partly open, his face relaxed. There was no outward indication from the front that he'd been hit, but the congealed mess on the ground behind where he was sitting told the story.
A careful look showed the neat hole in the front of his jacket, dead center in his chest. Bonner knew that if you turned him over his back was gone, most of the organs turned to jelly. The bullet fragmented when it hit the rib gage, thus exploding the bone into a cone shaped battering ram that didn't stop until it vomited out of his back. It had probably taken the rear ribs and spine at the same time. The British 7.62 mm round did that. They loaded theirs with cordite, turning the round into what was known here as a magnum round. From an assassins point of view it was the perfect round, able to rip an arm or a leg off with one shot. Even a partial hit on the trunk meant you could forget the guy living very long. Not without immediate medical treatment, and massive amounts of blood being pumped into him.
"Well at least he got it quick!" Someone pronounced the cold epitaph on him, writing him out of the equation.
"I told you that fucker was gone. Now he's had h
alf the night to go to ground again."
"I didn't see you jumping up and lighting the fire!" Was the sarcastic reply.
"I may be dumb but I'm not stupid."
"Knock it off guys. For Christ sake let pack up and get the hell out of here!"
"And where do you suggest we go?"
Bonner thought about that for a moment. Grainger had finally come up for air, but where was he headed? He hadn't stayed around last night to get the rest of them, and that puzzled him. Unless it was the girl? Could he be looking for a safe place for her? The idea had appeal. Where would he go? To Town? No, that wouldn't do them any good, they had that end covered, if Roland Hawkins could be believed. So where? Then he had it.
"Sooner or later he's got to go back to that house of his, you know, the one up on Thunder Mountain,” George commented, and it fell in with Bonner’s thinking.
"For once George is right. One way or another he'll end up there. We might as well move in and wait for him."
"Unless he's already there." Will Bonner put in. They all looked at him. It was a thought.
* * * * * *
Mike and Kat spent an hour after dawn scanning the house and surrounding terrain. Not only did he have an itch at the back of his neck, but Max and Maxine were acting funny. But it wasn't something you could put your finger on. They kept sniffing the air, then running around and doing it again. There was something out there, but what. The infrared detector remained silent for the remainder of the night, only going off momentarily at the ambush site. Whatever it was they weren't using it to spot them. There were a couple of other instruments around that could. Such as a sensitive motion detector. After the shooting, they had spent most of the night working their way around the base of the mountain, waiting for the first light. Mike didn't want to tackle the escarpment before then, arriving at the top as the sun poked itself over the edge of the world. Below them, down-slope, to one side, stood the house. Dark, quiet, appearing undisturbed. The open stretch of high, mountain grass un-trampled, showing no sign of any recent passage through it. The grass ended abruptly at the sheer cliff that dropped almost straight down to where he had been dredging a few days before. He scanned the tree line, following it from the cliff edge to its termination point behind the house. Here, the ground rose sharply in giant steps, rising to the mountain above.
