She smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Wouldn’t you like to fix cars in Colorado?”
“I think the sheriff of Chattee county might have something to say about that.”
“I guess he might.”
She stood and went to look at the photographs as they spewed out of the printer. She looked at one and then another, frowning. “I know this ranch. It’s out by Poncha Springs, on the 220.”
“How come you know it?”
“I had a Saturday job there when I was sixteen. In the stables, cleaning the horses, sweeping out the manure. That kind of stuff.”
“Who does it belong to?”
“I never met the owner. It was a big ranch. I never went near the house. I did see them a couple of times, though. They didn’t look like local folk. They looked more like they were from out east. He was always dressed in a suit. She was always in a fancy dress. I don’t think they ever set foot in the stable. Foreman didn’t like ’em much. Said they had no business running a ranch.”
“Could it have been the man who got out of the Audi today?”
She shook her head. “No. That type. But he was older, and bigger. He had long hair over his collar, brushed back. But I only saw him a couple of times, getting in and out of his car. He had a foreign car. British. A Rolls Royce or a Bentley or something like that.” She paused, studying my face. “What are you going to do to them?”
I shook my head. “If he has nothing to do with taking my friend, I won’t do anything to him. But if he is involved, I’ll kill him.”
She stood and walked to the bar. “How can you say that? Like it doesn’t mean anything? Like it’s going down to the store for a bag of potatoes? It’s a life, Lacklan! A human life!”
I stared at her, wanting to agree with her, but I couldn’t.
“Because without killers like me, good people like you and my friend would be at the mercy of people like them.”
She looked like she was close to tears. “Is that true, Lacklan, or is that your excuse? How close are you right now to becoming people like them?”
“Close,” I said, “But I haven’t lost my humanity yet. Not yet.”
“Leave it, Lacklan. Leave it and walk away. I don’t know what your story is, but I can imagine. I know you’re a good man at heart. Walk away from it, go back to Wyoming if you have to, but stop while you are still human.”
I stood and went to her and cupped her face in my hands. “They will torture her, and eventually kill her. If it was you, Blueberry, trapped on the inside, I wouldn’t let them do that to you, either. It’s who I am.”
“You wouldn’t?”
I shook my head. “Will you help me? Will you go over the photos with me and tell me everything you know about it.”
She nodded and placed her hands on my chest. “OK.” She hesitated a moment. “When you’ve done the job, will I see you again?”
I nodded and smiled.
“Try and stop me.”
But we both knew it was a lie.
Seventeen
It was a half-hour drive from Turret to Salida on roads with no traffic. I left as the sun was setting, along county roads 184 and 175. They were no more than broad dirt tracks winding their way through deep, remote gorges, all the way down from the mountains into the valley. I came out just north of Smeltertown, to the west of Salida, in what looked and felt like a vast, dry riverbed with a railway line running through it. I crossed the railway at a level crossing, drove up a dirt track and found myself in downtown Salida, on the curiously named F Street.
A right on East 3rd took me to Poncha Boulevard, among low, flat buildings, acres of residential areas bathed in listless amber street lights, and stars and stripes hanging limp in the sultry evening air; a dispirited testament to a time when America was the land of the brave and the free.
The streets were practically empty. The people of Salida were not standing by their flags. They were indoors, making outraged posts on Facebook and Twitter about what they’d seen on TV, that America was no longer the land of the free.
What had Tau said? The pills, in combination with social media…
I turned left onto Poncha Boulevard. It was long and straight, with parkland and scattered houses on either side of the road, set among large sweeps of gardens. Plain trees obscured the street lamps, casting dappled light on the blacktop and the sidewalks; sidewalks that were mainly beaten earth or raw concrete. Pretty soon I left Salida behind me and I was among broad, flat fields that were lost in the darkness, with just the occasional glimmer of light from a farm building or a cottage here and there.
After three or four miles, I came at last to Poncha Springs, which is little more than a scattering of houses and shops. I turned right on Main Street and felt the hot burn of adrenaline in my gut. A mile down the road was my turn. A mile down the road I would start exacting retribution.
I moved, silent and fast, out of Poncha Springs, and within moments, I found the dirt track on my right that led into the ranch. I turned onto it and killed the lights, then rolled noiselessly into the blackness. I followed the track for half a mile, past a cluster of shacks and barns and turned left into some woodlands that bordered the fields. There I killed the engine.
From the trunk I pulled my now depleted kit bag. I set up the bow and removed six of the aluminum arrows. I thought about the Smith & Wesson cannon, but decided against it. What I needed tonight was deadly silence.
I fitted the night-goggles and set off at a run through the woods toward the paddocks that surrounded the house. My breathing and my thudding feet crunching on the fallen leaves sounded loud in my own ears. After a couple of minutes, I came to the edge of the tree line and dropped on my belly. The house was about three hundred yards away. It was a large, three-story, colonial building, with a porch at the front and a broad terrace on the first floor, over the porch. There were lights in most of the windows and I could see a guy with an automatic weapon standing by the front door.
I knew there would be more walking the grounds. They might believe that I was in New York, jumping into the Hudson, but after what I had done to them the night before, they wouldn’t be taking any chances.
I scanned the area and slowly they began to emerge, strange black silhouettes against the green background glow.
The nearest was two hundred yards away, a hundred paces from the house, patrolling with what looked like an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. A second had his beat at right angles to the first, along the north side of the house. I figured there must be another at the back and a fourth on the south side. The remainder would be in the house.
The house itself was floodlit, but where the guards were patrolling was outside the pool of light, in darkness.
I ran fifty paces toward the north wall, at the side of the house, hunched over and in silence, then dropped and crawled on my belly. I lay waiting, watching the guard walk closer. He stopped maybe thirty yards away and lit a cigarette. The smoke looked a ghostly green through my goggles. He hailed his pal, then turned and started walking away at a slow stroll. I crawled after him as his colleague withdrew. When he was twenty or twenty-five paces away, I got on one knee, nocked the arrow and drew. The bow was orange osage, very hard and very springy, with a draw weight of sixty-five pounds, the perfect balance between power and accuracy. The arrows were broad heads and razor sharp, designed to enter easily and cause maximum bleeding. One of these could kill an ox in a matter of seconds.
I lined him up and loosed. There was the softest whisper. He seemed to hesitate for a second, then sat down and gently lay on his side. Now I had to act fast, while the guy at the front was walking away from me. I sprinted toward the back of the house, nocking and drawing a second arrow as I did so. I came to the corner just as the guard emerged. It was a long shot in the dark, maybe a hundred and twenty yards, but I am a good shot and I had no choice, I had to take it. I didn’t aim. It was an intuitive shot. I drew back to my ear and let the barb fly.
He paused, like he t
hought he’d heard something. Then started in surprise as the arrow thudded home into his heart. He looked down at the feathers for a moment as he bled out internally and, like his pal, he just lay down to die.
I had seen from the satellite photographs that there was a large chestnut tree on the far side of the house that had branches that reached out as far as the first floor terrace. I ran now, with total disregard for noise, nocking a third arrow and drawing it half way as I went. If my timing was right, the next guard would be on his return walk. Keeping outside the glow of the floodlights, I spotted him on his way back. This shot was easier, only fifty or sixty yards. I pulled back to my ear, took aim and loosed. Another whisper and he went down like his colleagues.
I had been scanning the walls for CCTV cameras. I hadn’t seen any. I figured, like Blueberry had said, most of the time the place was run as a ranch and the valuable stuff was in the barns, protected by an alarm system. The plan to hold Marni here had been improvised, like the security. I was pretty sure if there was a CCTV camera, it was recording and not being monitored.
I made sure the guard at the front was at the far end of his patrol and sprinted for the tree. I leapt, scrambled up, and pulled myself in among the branches. There was one that spread out and would take me to the edge of the terrace, about six feet above it. But by the time it got there, it was real thin and I wasn’t sure it would hold my weight. It would be a gamble.
I sprawled out and began to snake along the branch. I didn’t have a lot of time. Pretty soon the one remaining guard on the outer perimeter was going to notice that his two pals were missing. As I approached the terrace, the branch began to dip. I slid a little father and it began to give under me. I was a couple of feet away. I gave myself a heave, slid off and it sprang back behind me. My fingers seized at the balustrade and I scrambled with my feet against the wall, hauling myself up and over.
I had no time to waste. I stood and drew a fourth arrow. I fitted it to the bow and pulled. I found the guard at the front. He was standing at the far north end of his patrol, staring down, like he was looking for his colleague. He didn’t have to look long. I sent him where his friends were waiting for him, with a barb that went in through his left clavicle and sliced through his lungs. He died quickly and silently.
I removed my goggles and lay on the terrace. The lighting below was the bright glare of floodlights, to avoid people approaching the house unseen. Up here, on the terrace, it was a more tenuous light, probably meant for dining, or having drinks. Some of it came from a couple of wrought iron lamps attached to the white walls, and some from the large, plate glass doors.
I took a few seconds to look around. The floor was tiled in terracotta, dotted with plant pots and flower pots. It was about twenty-five feet across and twenty feet deep. At the far end a whitewashed wall rose in steps toward the red, slated roof, where a smaller terrace gave way to a French door under a couple of gables.
At the center of the lower terrace, where I was, a wooden table with six chairs stood with a brass oil lamp sitting on it. I crawled over and lay peering through the chair legs at the big, plate glass doors.
Inside I could see a brightly lit drawing room. It was opulently furnished, more for show than comfort. There was a large, marble fireplace that stood cold, and in front of it a sofa and two armchairs. Tau was sitting on one of the chairs. Another man was standing by the fire, holding what looked like a martini. From Blueberry’s description, I guessed he was the owner of the ranch. He was big, probably six-two, with a barrel chest and a great mane of hair swept back from a big forehead. He was wearing a tweed jacket with a green waistcoat and I could make out the gold chain of a fob watch. The way he was talking, you could tell he was a pompous ass.
I could only see the back of the sofa, but I could make out the top of a head just above it.
A plan is something you make before you start an operation, not during. One thing they drum into you day in and day out in the Regiment is you plan your operation meticulously and in detail before you go in, so that every eventuality is covered. That way you don’t fuck up. And if you do fuck up, you know what to do about it.
But you can only plan if you have advance information. When you have no information, you have to make it up as you go along. Now I had to decide what to do next. For a moment, I regretted not bringing the Smith & Wesson. It would be simple to blow away the plate glass, shoot their knees out and make them tell me where Marni was. But I had no idea how many men were in the house, and a plan as crude as that could go ass over tit very quickly.
I saw the big guy laugh. Tau laughed too, though it seemed to hurt his face, which was still bandaged. A door opened and a manservant and a couple of maids came in carrying a tablecloth and a tray of cutlery.
The manservant stopped to speak to the big guy. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their body language suggested they were talking about eating on the terrace. They seemed to think it was a good idea because Tau and the third person stood, picking up their glasses as they did so. The third person was a woman. She turned to move toward the terrace, and I saw her face.
It was Marni.
Eighteen
I didn’t have time to be surprised or think about what it meant. I had five, maybe ten seconds to move before they came out and found me. I pulled my cell from my pocket, pressed record and slipped it behind a plant pot. Then I sprinted, leapt and sprang up the stepped wall and onto the upper terrace. There I positioned myself in the shadows where I could see the table, but I knew I could not be seen.
I heard the glass door slide open and voices came up to me on the warm evening air. It didn’t sound like a cruel interrogation. It sounded like old friends having a chat.
Tau was saying, “I don’t mind telling you, it was nice to have a couple of weeks off. I’d been in New York several times over the last year…” They were making their way across the terrace while the maids laid the table and the manservant brought out a trolley with a tray of decanters and glasses. Tau was leaning against the balustrade, still talking. “But it could have been Miami, San Francisco or Singapore. You know what I mean? Boardrooms look the same the world over.”
The big guy and Marni laughed. “I hear you, Tau. But it gets easier as you get older. They rely more on your wisdom and less on your energy. I do most of my work from my office here, now. Or in Washington.”
“Where are you based in Washington, Rho?”
“Chain Bridge Road, equidistant between Palisades and Wesley Heights.” Tau nodded approval. Rho smiled at Marni. “Are you familiar with the area, Marni?”
There was a smile in her voice. “Not yet. But I plan to become familiar.”
They all laughed and Rho patted her shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Shall we sit?”
The maids had finished and had withdrawn. Rho sat at the head of the table. Marni had her back to me and Tau was sitting across from her. He looked in surprisingly good shape, and I could only imagine that he had managed to shield himself behind one of the Jeeps when the car exploded. Next time he wouldn’t be so lucky. But even as I said it to myself, I had a sick pit in my belly and I could feel my hands shaking. What the hell was Marni doing?
The manservant had taken a bottle from an ice bucket and was pouring white wine into their glasses. Rho raised his and proposed a toast.
“To good friends, allies, and a successful future.”
Marni chinked her glass against theirs and said, “Here’s to that, and wealth – lots of it.”
They laughed. Tau said, “That will come. It should not be your primary focus, though. Think mainly of your function in the overall plan. You are part of the family now. We will look after you. Believe me, more wealth will come your way than you can possibly imagine.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The maids came out with a bowl of oysters on a bed of ice. Marni helped herself and after a moment said, “Tau, have you any more news about Lacklan?”
I felt a hot twist in my gut.
> Tau shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Shortly after twelve, he seems to have driven to Colorado Springs and taken a flight to New York. There he seems to have taken a ferry at the World Financial Center. We have no idea where he was going, but that’s where his signal stopped abruptly.”
“He could simply have thrown his phone in the river.”
Tau nodded. “We have people making inquiries on the ground. But witnesses saw somebody jump in.”
She was quiet for a moment. They watched her. Rho asked suddenly, “Will you miss him?”
She shrugged. “I had barely seen him for ten years. What’s to miss?”
I felt a hot flush of anger, and suddenly a mad hatred welled up like a poison in my veins. I raged against believing what I was hearing. But betrayal was not new to me. Ultimately, it was what I expected, from everybody. I nocked an arrow. I could finish them right now, in a matter of a few seconds. But I knew that wouldn’t be enough. I had a madness growing inside me. I wanted Omega. I wanted to bring the whole damned thing down, and my father and Marni with it.
She was talking again, picking an oyster from the bowl.
“We are going to talk shop now.”
Rho laughed. “I expected no less of you.”
“Edward has made it clear that the Earth can’t sustain more than nine or ten billion people. I have gone over his figures with him and I agree. Now, nine billion people is not going to make life easier on the planet, even for an elite. It is going to make the world an ugly, difficult place to live in. Explain how you are going to make this work to our advantage.”
Rho leaned back, holding his glass like Yorick’s skull. “You refer to Wilson? Edward Wilson?” She nodded. He nodded back. “A clever man. Fortunately, nobody listens to him.” He sighed, like he was gathering lots of interesting thoughts together. “You have to put it all into the context of the overall plan. These seven, almost eight billion people, who are expanding exponentially, are at present consumers…”
She raised a hand. “Most of them are too poor to consume in any significant way.”
OMEGA SERIES BOX SET: Books 1-4 Page 11
