Slash and burn jh-3

by Matt Hilton

  She held up her hands, the Glock hanging loose in her fist.

  'Keep that handy,' I said, 'but no shooting unless it becomes absolutely necessary.'

  'I won't shoot at all, Joe,' she said with the faintest of smiles, 'unless they're too close to miss.'

  Waiting until she was concealed behind the twisting roots, I leaned in close. 'Give me ten minutes. If I'm not back by then, you'll know I've failed.'

  'What happens then?'

  'Then you'll be on your own.'

  'That isn't something I want to think about.'

  No, I thought, turning away from her and down the embankment. Neither did I.

  Chapter 7

  If he was upset that he wasn't going to have his way with a head-shot corpse, Trent wasn't showing any sign. In fact, judging by the way his shoulders shuddered he found the entire situation amusing.

  'What's so damn funny?'

  'The look on your face, bro.'

  Larry scowled up at his larger sibling. 'You're the one with the stupid-looking face, Trent. Nothing wrong with mine.'

  Trent didn't seem fazed by the slur either. He laughed in his deep rumble, as he turned to survey the pass between the boulders. Beyond them he heard the posse of rednecks drawing to a halt, uttering shouts and yells as they clambered out of their vehicles.

  'The Wild Bunch has arrived.'

  'Go get them, Trent,' Larry grunted. 'Organise them into some kind of search party. The bastards can't have got too far away, but every second that those idiots roam around shooting at shadows their lead is getting longer.'

  'What you going to do, Larry?'

  'I'll keep watch in case they try to make a break for the road.'

  Trent stared at Larry for what seemed like way too long for Larry's liking. As if he was challenging his brother's authority.

  'Get going,' Larry said.

  The lid of Trent's pale eye slowly drooped closed, before opening again in that lazy way it had. It looked like an oyster shell opening to reveal what lay within, only there was nothing about the image that made Larry think of a hidden pearl.

  'Now, Trent, before those assholes start killing each other in the dark.'

  Trent finally smiled. He lifted the shotgun, ejecting the spent shells. He fed in a couple of fresh ones. Above him, the clouds finally gave up their burden and the first few flakes of snow fluttered past his face.

  'You're right, Larry. In the dark, in the storm that's coming, someone might just catch movement out the corner of their eye and get the wrong idea. All it'd take would be an accidental jerk of the trigger and that'd be it.'

  Trent moved quickly towards the pass before his brother had time to absorb his loaded words. But they weren't missed by Larry. He knew exactly whose finger might slip and who would end up dead. But not if he lifted his Magnum and finished Trent now; the temptation was almost too strong to deny. But he didn't lift the gun. Sometimes his brother's words only sounded like a challenge. Maybe Larry was reading too much into them, and his brother was genuinely talking about the amateurs Huffman had surrounded himself with.

  If he was wrong, well, he could always kill Trent later.

  Right now he was going back to the Grand Taurino and out of this damned cold. He could watch the road from the comfort of the cab as easily as he could from the roadway.

  Approaching the truck, he pulled out his packet of Marlboros and shook one from the pack. Holding his Magnum made it awkward to light the cigarette, but he wasn't about to relinquish the weapon just yet. Leaning his hips against the front grill of the Dodge Ram, he hooked a boot heel over the lowest bar, and thumbed the cigarette up to his lips. The snowflakes were dropping more regularly now and he swung his gaze up to the heavens, watching the swirling flakes as they were caught in a gust of wind blowing over the clifftop. Flakes melted on his lashes, and he blinked them away.

  The couple from the Ford didn't have so many options. They'd obviously disembarked from the vehicle just prior to sending it through the pass. The boys coming down the trail meant they wouldn't have retreated back the way they'd come, which in turn meant they could only have gone in one of two directions. Larry was familiar with the terrain and knew that the hills on the right were sheer and made of loose shale in most places. Chances were they had gone to the left. The nearest and most direct route came out on to the road just this side of the boulders, and Larry knew that the couple hadn't come that way. Up and over then, he decided. They're up on the ridge above me.

  He considered calling Trent back. But he discarded the idea as quickly as it formed. Why give his brother any of the fun? Trent was getting too big for his boots and needed reminding just who the major force in their relationship was.

  He unhooked his boot heel and wandered past the truck, making his way to the trail-end that came down off the cliffs. He lifted the Magnum, flicked away his half-smoked stub. The ember was too much of a giveaway in the darkness. Smoking kills, he reminded himself, but not always for the obvious reasons.

  He was a huge man, but as fit and lithe as he was tall, and he could stalk elk with the best of them. He'd often considered going into pro-wrestling. If he partnered with his brother they'd be a magnificent tag team, but certain facts had deterred him from following such an obvious career route: for one, he liked hurting people for real, and second, even a superstar rating was finite. He wanted to go on hurting people for as long as he pleased, not for the duration that some greedy promoter laid on him. Besides, Huffman paid good money – the kind of top dollar he couldn't expect from the square ring.

  The trail off the cliff petered out a little more than twenty paces beyond the Grand Taurino. There the steep path was hidden from view by the trees that grew all along the roadside. Larry considered entering the trail and making his way up and over the cliff to catch the couple as they fled from Trent and the others. But no. He could take them out as they came towards him.

  Between two trees he found himself the ideal hiding place. He had a limited view of the trail, and the darkness would make it nigh-on impossible to distinguish one person from another, but that would cut both ways. They wouldn't see him until he stood up and let loose with his handgun. He wouldn't have to wait long. In fact, he could hear someone making their way down the trail now. Easy money!

  Or it would have been if not for the cold metal that was suddenly pressed to his neck.

  'Lose the cannon,' a voice whispered.

  Larry grunted as he raised his hands to the sides to show the man the gun was no threat. He allowed the Magnum to slip from his palm so that it flopped upside down, hooked only on his index finger.

  The man with the gun to his head quickly took the Magnum away.

  'The keys to your truck,' the man went on, 'give them to me.'

  'I don't have them,' Larry said, finally finding his voice.

  'Don't fuck with me.'

  'I ain't fuckin' with no one. I don't have the keys.'

  No way was he going to give the Grand Taurino up.

  Then sparks were in his eyes and he tasted metal. It took him a second or so to realise that the man had struck him on the side of the head with the barrel of his gun. Blood trickled from beneath his hair and into the collar of his jacket.

  'Son of a bitch,' Larry growled.

  'Last time,' the man said. 'The next head wound will be permanent.'

  'Keys are in my jeans pocket. I'm gonna have to move my hands if you want them.'

  'Slow and easy.'

  Keeping his left hand outstretched, Larry brought his right hand to his hip. Crouching the way he was, the keys were nipped by the material of his jeans. He straightened slightly to dig the keys out of his pocket, then passed them over his shoulder to the man behind him. As the man snatched the keys from him, Larry readied himself.

  The gun was pressed to the base of his skull.

  'Don't.'

  Larry settled back into his crouch.

  'That wasn't so difficult, was it?'

  Actually, thought Larry, it
was fucking terrible. I should have gone for it. Now you've got my gun and my wheels. Worst thing: I don't even know who the fuck you are so's I can take them back.

  'Who are you?' Larry asked.

  'I could ask you the same thing, but let's not fool one another. We'd be wasting each other's time, wouldn't we?'

  Larry rolled his shoulders. The blood from his scalp was making a trail down his spine. 'Guess so. One thing I do know is that you're not a cop.'

  'Didn't claim to be,' said the man putting the gun under Larry's ear. 'So I've no qualms about killing you.'

  Larry didn't consider himself a coward. But he didn't relish dying with a bullet in his ear or being left in the forest as crow bait. 'You're not going to shoot me, buddy.'

  'I'm not?'

  'No, the sound would bring the others running. I guess you're going to have to let me live.'

  'For now.' The gun came down on the nape of Larry's neck. Unconsciousness wasn't instantaneous, allowing one last thought to flutter through Larry's mind. No actual words, just the knowledge that he would wake up again, and when he did he was going to make this man wish that he had killed him outright.

  Chapter 8

  'Kate,' I whispered. 'I told you to wait for me.'

  She was standing in the shadows ten feet above me, staring down at the huge man lying at my feet. Her left hand was at her throat, but I could see that the hand holding her Glock was steady enough.

  'I'm a cop, Joe. I'm not used to being told what to do by civilians,' she said. 'Anyway, I could hear the others getting closer. What was I supposed to do?'

  'You should have done as I asked,' I told her. But at the same time, I couldn't be mad with her. Her independent streak had actually helped me out. Her approach had kept the big man distracted while I sneaked up on him. Plus, I didn't have to backtrack up the cliff to fetch her. 'Never mind. Come on, we're getting out of here.'

  Kate came down the steep path at a jog. I caught her in the crook of my elbow and she pressed her left palm to my chest. For a long second our eyes locked, before Kate blinked and turned away. She used the Glock to point at the unconscious giant.

  'Who is he?'

  'Don't know. But he's gonna be pissed when he wakes up.'

  'He's only knocked out? Well, at least you didn't shoot him, this time.'

  'Maybe I should have.'

  Kate pressed herself away from me. I watched as she stooped and patted the big man down. 'No identification. Just like the others.'

  When I'd killed the two up at Imogen's house the idea that they'd come without any identification had been concerning. I was worried that they might be professional hit men but I'd quickly come to the conclusion that they were rank amateurs. Looking down at this big man, I decided that he wasn't as inexperienced as the others, but he still wasn't a trained assassin. Very dangerous though. I didn't doubt that he had a way about him when it came to extreme violence.

  We hurried down on to the road and I looked along the curve to where our Ford was lying among the trees. The darkness didn't allow a clear look at the 4? 4 but I didn't think it would be much use to us now. Instead I looked towards the vehicle this man had come in. I hadn't realised what a garish monstrosity the pick-up actually was.

  'Subtle,' Kate noted. 'It'll stick out like a sore thumb.'

  'We aren't going to be in it for long. All we need is to get away from here and then we can ditch it for something else.'

  She shrugged, moving closer to it.

  'Careful, Kate. There could be others nearby.'

  'I know all about approaching vehicles, Joe. It comes with the job.'

  Following her, I scanned the ridge above us. The men who'd been chasing us had fallen quiet. Their whoops and yells had been replaced by the silence that men adopt when they are in fear of impending death. As far as they knew, I was hiding in the forest and could open up on them with a barrage of bullets at any second.

  Kate checked out the interior of the Dodge Ram while I covered her. When she nodded that it was clear, I quickly came and clambered in. I placed the liberated Magnum on the dash and then pushed the keys into the ignition. Kate slid into the passenger seat, her eyes doing a scan of the insides. She was in full cop mode. She opened the glovebox, but found nothing interesting. Nothing of worth in the door pocket either. When she pulled down the sun visor, a small pamphlet fell into her outstretched hand.

  'Look at this, Joe.' We were in shadows, so I couldn't immediately make out what it was.

  'What is it?' I fired up the engine.

  'A menu.'

  'We don't have time to eat.'

  'From a restaurant in Little Fork,' she went on, as though I hadn't spoken.

  'What about it?' I spun the monster truck in the road.

  'That brute you knocked out – or any of those other good ol' boys – do you think any of them are the type to dine on fancy French cuisine?'

  Taking a closer look at the menu, I saw that it was an expensive glossy brochure depicting an equally expensive and glossy restaurant. Le Coeur de la Ville. She was right: these men looked the type to prefer beer and a five-doller bucket of spiced wings, not the a la carte menu that the brochure offered. Not that the presence of the menu meant anything specific; for all I knew, the big man had fancy tastes that exceeded his bar-room brawler image.

  'What are you getting at, Kate?' I glanced over to where I'd left the unconscious man in the trees. There was no sign of movement but I heard the crack of a rifle. Whoever fired at us was a pretty poor shot. Then we were round the curve and out of the line of fire.

  'Last time I visited with Imogen we went to that restaurant for a meal. I told you that Imogen is very good with computers, didn't I? Well, I remember she was doing some work for the restaurant, developing a website for them, supplying the publicity photographs and digital graphics.'

  I didn't see where this train of thought was leading, other than yes, it was a coincidence.

  'After that visit, I spoke to her on the phone. She was really mad.'

  'What about?'

  'Apparently, prior to her finishing the work the restaurant changed owners. The new owner let her go, and then refused to compensate her for the time she'd spent on the material she'd developed. Imogen lodged a complaint through her lawyer.'

  'I hardly think that anyone is going to try to kill her because of a bill for… what would it be, a couple thousand dollars at most?'

  Kate considered my words. 'It was just a thought.'

  'It's about the best lead we have,' I conceded. Then I slapped the steering wheel of the truck. 'Next to this thing. I'll get Rink to run it through the system and see who the vehicle's registered to. We find out who owns it, it could lead us to the person who sent him after Imogen.'

  We were clear of any pursuit now, and I noticed that Kate had finally relaxed enough to put her Glock back inside her purse. I kept the SIG handy – just in case. Plus there was the Magnum on the dash if it became necessary in the future to take out anything as large as its owner.

  Kate had her eyes closed. She was chewing her lip again, and I couldn't help glancing at her in appreciation.

  'You did OK back there.'

  'For a cop, you mean?'

  'I'm not a cop hater, Kate. It's just that…'

  'Yeah, you already said: I cramp your style.'

  I chose not to pursue the line of conversation. Anyway, I'd noted her smile.

  'Where now?' she asked.

  'Little Fork.'

  'Isn't that likely to be the town where these men are from?'

  'Yeah. So they won't expect us to go there. Besides, I want to find out who they work for.'

  'We should go to the police.'

  'Yes, we should.'

  She looked at me, expectant.

  'But we're not going to,' I finished.

  'We have to report what happened at Imogen's house. There were men waiting to kill us, Joe. The police need to know what's going on.'

  'All that will happen is that we'll end u
p in cuffs. Small town like Little Fork, they won't have the facilities to deal with something like this. Likely we'd be sent to Frankfort or Louisville for questioning. We won't find Imogen while we're locked up in a prison cell.'

  'Where'd you get your low impression of the police from?'

  'Experience,' I told her. 'We have the same goal most of the time. It's just our methods differ. Whenever I've dealt with cops in the past, it's been like banging my head on a brick wall.'

  'You're forgetting that I'm a cop. I know how things work. I can do all the talking, Joe. They don't even have to know that you're involved, if that's the way you want it.'

  'So you're going to take the rap for shooting four men?'

  'Some of the bullets that killed the man from upstairs will come back to my gun. I'm going to be up in front of an IA panel whether you're involved or not.'

  'You told me that the gun wasn't police issue.'

  'I said it wasn't NYPD issue. It's still registered to me. All they need do is a ballistics check.'

  'Not unless it was previously test fired and the rifling marks were added to a register. If it hasn't they'd need the gun to check against. No gun, no match. Lose it, Kate. Throw it in the next river we pass.'

  'No.'

  'So tell them nothing. They still don't know who we are – even if they did, do you think those men intend to lodge a complaint?'

  'They have to. Four of their friends are dead.'

  I waved my hand at the forest. 'They'll get dumped out there someplace.'

  'Like they were probably planning to do to us,' she finished for me. She sighed. 'We have to say something, Joe. We can't just let this thing go on.'

  'We'll say something once we've found Imogen, not before. And the only way we'll do that is to go speak with the people responsible for making her disappear.'

  'OK,' she said. 'I don't like it but we'll do it your way.'

  Chapter 9

  'You haven't found her yet?'