Chance Reddick Box Set 1

by David Archer

  Chance shook his head in disbelief. “Grandpa? You mean, he stayed there and watched Bob commit suicide?”

  His grandmother made a face that was halfway between a scowl and a grin. “Not exactly,” she said. “I guess Bob tried to chicken out and run, so your grandfather put the rope around his neck and hoisted him up in the barn. He said he waited till Bob quit kicking, then walked out of the barn and cut across the fields so nobody would see him.”

  Chance drove several miles in silence, but finally it got the better of him.

  “You’re saying that, if grandpa was here and able, he would go and take care of whoever killed Robin.”

  The old woman stared straight ahead through the windshield. “He would,” she said. “And according to him, you are a chip off his block.”

  NINE

  Chance thought about what his grandmother had said all the way back to the house, and by the time they got there, he had made his decision. He followed her into the house and went to the gun cabinet in the living room.

  “Grandma? Do you know where the key is?”

  His grandmother walked over and reached up on top of the cabinet. She felt around for a moment, then brought her hand back down holding a key. Chance took it and opened the gun cabinet, then stood there and looked at the weapons inside.

  He reached inside and took out the Browning, his own favorite deer rifle. He took out a box of ammunition and loaded it, then looked at the other guns. There was a Colt thirty-eight caliber snub-nosed pistol that he had always liked, and he took it out and loaded it as well.

  His grandmother watched him, but said not a word. Chance turned and looked at her as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and tucked the pistol into his back pocket. The two boxes of ammunition were in his hand, and the old woman smiled at him.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be back,” he said. “You just try to do the best you can, all right, Grandma?”

  “You’ll be back,” she said. “You won’t let me go to the funerals alone.”

  Chance nodded, then turned and walked out the door. His old pickup was sitting in the driveway beside Grandma’s car, and he slid the rifle behind the seat before he got in. The boxes of ammunition went under the seat, and he laid the pistol beside him as he started up the truck and drove away.

  Baldizon, his grandmother had said, lived in the old Vivaldi Mansion. Chance knew where it was, just like everyone else who had grown up around Silver Bell, and it only took him about fifteen minutes to get there. When he arrived, he wasn’t surprised to see almost a dozen Hispanic men standing around the driveway and the front of the house.

  One of them approached him. “You got business here, ese ?”

  “My name is Chance Reddick,” he said. “I’d like to see Mr. Baldizon for a moment. My sister was the girl who died with his son last night.”

  The big man looked at him for a moment, then held up a finger to tell him to wait. He turned and walked into the house, and it was less than a minute later when he returned with an older, balding Hispanic man following him.

  Baldizon walked straight up to Chance, and surprised him when he threw open his arms and pulled him into a hug. Chance felt Baldizon clap him on the back a couple of times, and then the man leaned back to look into his eyes.

  “Mr. Reddick,” he said. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am about your sister.”

  “And I’m sorry about your son,” Chance said. “I wanted to thank you for helping with the funeral expenses. That was very generous of you, sir.”

  “De nada ,” Baldizon said. “I knew that it would be a burdensome expense, and I have money. Is this why you have come to see me?”

  Chance looked him in the eye for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “No, sir,” he said. “I’ve come because I believe you know who did this, and I want to be the man who delivers justice to them.”

  Baldizon’s eyes held a smile, though his face was still twisted in grief and pain.

  “This is not necessary,” he said. “My friends, here, they are ready to go and do what must be done.”

  Chance shook his head. “Sir, with all due respect, Robin was my sister. Now, I understand if some of your people need to go along, but I need to be the one to put these bastards down.”

  Baldizon stared at him for another moment, then slowly nodded his head. “I understand,” he said. “It is for honor. For the honor of your sister, you must go.”

  Chance grinned. “Something like that,” he said. “I think of it as going for justice.”

  “For justice, then.” Baldizon turned to the man who had first spoken with Chance, and said something in rapid Spanish. That man dipped his head in a nod, and Baldizon turned back to Chance.

  “This is Oscar Reyes,” he said. “The men you’re looking for are Alvaro Colom and Perez Molina. They are the enforcers for one of my business rivals. If we go to kill them, it could start a war between my people and theirs. Many people would die, many people who are not a part of our business. If you kill them, however, it will be seen as defending your sister’s honor. Are you able to do this, Mr. Reddick?”

  Chance nodded. “Just show me where they are,” he said. “I’ll be happy to do the rest.”

  “Then come with me,” Oscar said. “I will take you to them.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Chance said. “I need my pickup truck.”

  Oscar nodded, then walked away and got into a car, a four-year-old Chevy sedan. He waited for Chance to get into his truck and turned it around, then drove out of the long driveway and onto the street.

  It only took a few minutes for Chance to realize they were headed for Hinckley, but he figured he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was about a thirty minute drive, and Oscar kept his speed down to the limit. When they got into town, Oscar drove to an area near the industrial region, then pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned building. Chance followed him, and got out of the truck when Oscar stepped out of his car.

  “Colom and Molina are in the yellow building at the end of the street. Now, there are two ways to do this. One is for me to escort you to the front door, but then you must tell them why you are going to kill them. This way is not a good one, because they will probably kill us both before you can finish speaking. The other way is probably better. In that way, you should find somewhere to hide and be ready to kill them before they see you.”

  Chance looked at Oscar for a moment, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want them to know why I’m here. I want to look into their eyes, and I want to see that they know exactly why I’m going to kill them.”

  Oscar sighed. “Very well,” he said. “How are you going to kill them?”

  Chance pulled the Colt out of his back pocket. “As long as I can get up close to them,” he said, “this should do the job.”

  Oscar gave him a wry grin. “Very well, let us go. We should walk from here.”

  “Wait a minute,” Chance said. “How many people are in there? It’s not going to be just the two of them, is it?”

  “Oh, no,” Oscar said. “There will be many peoples, many men. That does not matter, because you are here for your sister’s honor. Because these are the two who killed your sister, you have the right to take their lives. This is our way, the way we live. No one else will interfere, even if you are successful in killing them. No one will do anything to stop you, and you can simply walk away.”

  Chance stared at him, not sure whether to believe what he was hearing or not. The problem was that he was in a world he was not familiar with, and he knew it. The only thing he could do was trust his guide.

  “Okay, then,” he said. “Lead on.”

  They walked down the street slowly, and Chance put the pistol back into his pocket. From the front, he appeared to be unarmed, and that’s the way he wanted it. They came up to the yellow building and Oscar banged his fist on the door.

  “Colom,” he shouted. “Molina! Come to the door, I must speak with you.”

  They stood there for a long m
oment, but then the door slowly opened. Two men dressed in business suits stood there, and Chance was surprised.

  “You know me,” Oscar said. “But you do not know this man. This is Mr. Reddick. When you killed Jorge Baldizon last night, you killed the girl who was with him as well. She was Mr. Reddick’s sister. He has come to claim her honor from you.”

  The two men looked Chance over, and then they began to laugh.

  “This gringo comes to claim his sister’s honor? Oscar, is this some kind of joke?”

  “Colom,” Oscar said, letting Chance know which of the men was which, “you have known me for six years. Have you ever known me to make a joke?”

  Colom shrugged. “Anything is possible, yes?” He turned his eyes back to Chance. “Your sister, gringo , was only in the wrong place at the wrong time. We did not intend for her to die, but it was necessary to kill Jorge Baldizon without delay.”

  “My sister was only fifteen,” Chance said slowly. “You killed her without a moment’s thought about her life, or her family, or what she might accomplish in the future. Now, I don’t know what your beef is with Mr. Baldizon, but I know, I know that you could not have had any kind of grudge against my little sister, Robin.” He took a deep breath. “And that’s why I’m here to kill you, right now.”

  Colom’s hand suddenly flew under his coat, moving to put an end to the conversation, but Chance’s sense of self-preservation took over. Moving faster than he ever dreamed he could, Chance drew his gun. Before Colom could withdraw his hand from underneath his jacket, Chance’s .38 was already within inches of his stomach. The barrel was pointed upward toward the left chest, finger squeezing the slack out of the trigger.

  Colom’s eyes turned from angry red to snow white as he stared in astonishment at the abrupt turnabout. He stood there in the doorway, paralyzed. His mind seemed not to accept what his eyes saw, and even though he could feel something hard pressing against his ribs, his gun hand continued downward. No sooner was the butt of an automatic pistol visible under his coat than a loud sound assaulted his ears, and a sharp pain ripped through him.

  His mouth was agape, and he was utterly surprised that such a thing could happen to him, Colom, one of the cartel’s most successful collectors and a promising young hit man working hard to become number one. At the instant that the bullet was sent on its deadly mission, Colom’s left shoulder was violently pulled upwards, indicating that the small piece of lead must have slammed in to the shoulder bone.

  Chance, having triggered the Colt, was already bringing its smoking barrel to bear upon his other adversary.

  Molina had remained passive, content to let his more experienced companion handle the situation. The muffled sound of the gunshot, with the barrel pressed against Colom’s belly, sent a shock wave racing through him. Inert only for a split second, he sprang into action. He cocked his right fist as he took a step forward, ready to strike as soon as he was in position. His foot had just barely touched the ground when he froze, all his attention riveted on the small, dark muzzle that stared into his face.

  “Stop right there,” Chance said.

  Now in total control of the situation, Chance cocked the hammer of his pistol before allowing his eyes to move to the figure lying on the concrete apron. Colom was lying on his back; his jacket hung open and a red stain was clearly visible about six inches above his belt. The bleeding had already stopped, indicating that Colom was almost certainly dead.

  Turning his attention back to Molina, Chance’s mind was racing. “Get your hands up against the door,” he ordered, and Molina, scared stiff and white-faced, complied promptly.

  Not a word was said as Chance methodically frisked the man, with Oscar merely standing and watching. Chance found a Glock holstered above the back pocket at Molina’s right hip, and discovered four clips of ammunition to go with the automatic in the left front pocket of the jacket. A moment later, he found a switchblade in the man’s front pants pocket. Having removed all Molina’s weapons, he stepped back and turned to Colom.

  Keeping one eye on Molina, he investigated the dead man’s effects, looking for any items that might be useful to him. From among these possessions, Chance only took the automatic pistol, which was still gripped tight in Colom’s hand, and a set of brass knuckles. These he started to toss away, but stopped himself as an idea flashed into his head.

  Standing erect, Chance transferred the Colt to his left hand and slipped the knuckles over the fingers of his right.

  “Turn around,” he commanded.

  Molina started to turn toward the left. Chance’s fist was ready. In the next instant blood began trickling from a long gash in Molina’s cheek. The unexpected blow knocked him up against the door. Senses dazed, he followed the next directive and again took up his previous stance.

  Chance removed the knuckles, wiped them clean and placed them onto Colom’s right hand. Then, he pointed to the car that was sitting just to the right of the doorway. “Is that yours?”

  Molina nodded. “Yes,” he said.

  “Pick up your buddy and put him in the passenger seat. In the front. We’re not going to leave him laying here.”

  It took Molina a couple of minutes to get the body into the car, and then Chance had him move to the rear of the automobile and open up the trunk. Seeing the gun still pointed in his direction, Molina obeyed its authority by taking a step backwards after he got it open.

  Chance peered into the compartment, keeping his captive in the corner of his eye. In the middle lay a bunched-up white cloth, almost hidden under the edge of the spare tire. Reaching in, he picked up the bundle and opened it, and a look of utter surprise displayed itself on his face. He glanced toward his captive with a questioning look in his eye.

  Concealing the small pouch of white powder back in the large handkerchief, Chance threw it to Molina and instructed him to place it in his pocket. Then, he ordered Molina to lie on his stomach, hands outstretched, on the back seat while Chance quickly made an inspection of the car’s interior, heedful of leaving fingerprints. That task done, he made a careful examination of the surrounding area.

  Finding nothing in the car that was of importance to him and concluding that no one had witnessed the incident who was willing to talk about it, he had Molina move into the driver’s seat while he settled himself on the back seat. He slouched forward, resting his right arm on the front backrest and pressing the cocked .38 deep into the driver’s ribs.

  Oscar stood beside the car. “I think you are a much stronger man than we expected,” he said. “I will follow, so that I can bring you back to your vehicle.”

  “I appreciate that,” Chance said. He poked Molina in the ribs with the gun, and told him to drive slowly until they got to where Oscar’s car was waiting. Molina obeyed every order to the letter, and Chance realized that the killer was scared to death.

  When they got to where Chance and Oscar had left their vehicles, he ordered Molina to wait while Oscar got into his own car and pulled up behind them. When the big man was in position, Chance told Molina to drive further into the industrial park.

  “You do not have to kill me,” Molina said. “It was Colom who fired the shots that killed your sister. He was on her side of the car, while I was taking care of Jorge.”

  “Shut up,” Chance said. “You’re just as guilty as he was.”

  The industrial park had seen many better days, and there were numerous empty buildings. Chance directed Molina behind one of the bigger ones, a place that had once sold mining equipment. “Pull in behind it,” he said. Molina did as he was told, then sat there with his hands on the steering wheel, sweat rolling down his face.

  Suddenly, without warning, he felt a cold, solid object press against his temple. He never even heard the muffled explosion that came from Colom’s automatic, the explosion that filled the confines of the car and brought an end to the life of the killer. His body slumped against the door as Chance wiped his fingerprints from the automatic and placed it back into its owner’s h
and.

  Chance sat where he was for a few seconds, then climbed out of the back seat. He opened the driver’s door, catching Molina so that he wouldn’t fall out, then carefully wiped down the thirty-eight. When he was confident he had removed his fingerprints, he pressed the gun into Molina’s hand, closed the door and walked over to Oscar’s car. The big Guatemalan gave him a comradely nod, and then took his foot off the brake. He drove Chance back to his truck, then turned to look at him before he got out of the car.

  “Señor Baldizon will want to speak with you,” he said. “Please come back to his house, as soon as you get back to town.”

  Chance nodded. “I will,” he said.

  TEN

  Chance parked his old pickup in the circular driveway in front of Baldizon’s house and stepped out, then waited for Oscar to join him. The big man was speaking to some of the others, then he walked over to Chance and escorted him up the stairs. He opened the door without knocking and walked inside, and Chance followed.

  “Señor Baldizon will be in his office,” Oscar said. “Please come this way.”

  Chance followed him down a long hallway, and then they turned in through a door that stood open. Baldizon was seated behind the desk, and he looked up with a smile.

  “Oscar called to tell me that you have handled the situation,” he said. “You have avenged not only your sister, but also my son. This leaves me in your debt, Mr. Reddick, but it also leaves me thinking you may be a man who could be useful to me.”

  Chances eyebrows rose slightly. “Useful to you? I’m sorry, Mr. Baldizon, I’m afraid I’m not really interested in the cartel life.”

  “But that is not what I have in mind,” Baldizon said. “Mr. Reddick, I will not deny that I am myself a part of that life, but that is not what I have in mind for you. You see, it is not often that we find a man such as yourself, an American man who is not connected to such an organization, who is capable of what you have done this night. A man like you can go places and do things that someone like me, or like Oscar or one of my other men, could never do. This could be very, very valuable.”