The Mechanic Trilogy: the complete boxset

by Rob Ashman

  She kept her eyes shut trying to recall what had happened. She could remember escorting Silverton to his room, plus a faint recollection about a drink – then nothing. No, wait, there was someone else there. There was another man with Silverton. His name was Ramirez.

  She flicked open her eyes and there he was. He held her head in one hand and the glass in the other.

  Ramirez was in his early forties with close-cropped black hair. He wore the same T-shirt and jeans as before and she could see the rippled scar which started on the side of his face, ran down his neck, across his chest and down his arm. When he turned his head his right ear was a lump of melted flesh.

  Mechanic caught his eye and recognised the look immediately. Ramirez was the real deal. She was in deep trouble.

  ‘That’s it, that’s it,’ he said. ‘Time to wake up.’ He put the glass on the floor, dipped in his fingers and splashed more water on her face. She was gaining consciousness by the second.

  ‘What happ …’ she slurred her words. ‘Where …’

  ‘Don’t speak yet. Give it time. Here drink.’ He poured more into her mouth, got up and stepped away. ‘She’s back.’

  Mechanic saw another figure moving towards her. She recognised it was Silverton.

  ‘What happened?’ she said.

  ‘Please forgive me but we had to take precautions. I need to ask you a few questions, Ms Hudson, and to be frank we couldn’t take the risk of you killing us.’

  Mechanic shook her head and the fuzzy outlines came into focus. She was in a dimly lit room with a single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling and concrete walls. There were no windows and she could make out the faint outline of a door in one corner. There was an overpowering stink of human faeces. She retched.

  Mechanic closed her eyes, pretended to drift off again and went through a mental checklist. She was not in pain and could breathe freely, her arms and legs were fine and she was fully clothed. Her head hurt but that was from the drugs. She had limited movement but, from what she could deduce, was unharmed.

  Ramirez tapped her left cheek again. ‘Come on, don’t go to sleep. Time to talk.’

  Mechanic opened her eyes and stared at the floor. She was sitting on a chair, wrists tied together and stretched out in front of her. A thick rope joined them to a metal ring set in the floor about three feet away. A heavy leather belt looped under the seat and pulled tight round her hips. Her legs were tied to the chair by the ankles and below her knees. She was bent forward at the waist and had to strain to look up into Silverton’s face. The chair was bolted to the floor.

  None of this was good. This was a classic interrogation stress position.

  Ramirez pulled a table along until it rested beside Mechanic. She could see the tools of his trade laid out in order: pliers, knives and plastic bottles containing various coloured liquids. A roll of barbed wire, a three-foot length of armoured electrical cable, an electric sander and a blowtorch completed the inventory. This was the kit of a serious torturer.

  When he walked Ramirez crackled. Mechanic looked down at his feet to see the whole floor covered in plastic sheeting. Ramirez went out of view as Silverton stepped in front of her. She had to crane her neck to look up.

  ‘You will notice you are lightly restrained, the ropes aren’t too tight and you are still dressed. I do not want to hurt you, I really don’t.’ It was a chilling opener.

  He continued, ‘I never mix business with sentiment, but in your case I’m torn. I like you, I like you a lot. After all, you saved my life and that goes in your favour. However, we’ve run some background checks and you’ve had an array of unremarkable jobs and used to be an office worker. I have to ask myself, what type of training course does an office worker go on to acquire your type of skills?’

  He knelt down beside Mechanic and placed his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘I know you work in personal security, but that is a recent move, and you didn’t learn the things you know by mail order. I watched you take down those goons like they were nothing and I recognise something special when I see it. And, Ms Hudson, I am looking at it right now.’ Silverton exuded none of his usual idiotic presence. He was cold and threatening.

  ‘I am not a squeamish man, but Ramirez here, well I’ve seen him do things which make even me want to look away. I haven’t, mind you, but it made me feel like I should. Now you are free to keep all the secrets you want but I reckon there are some which involve me. And that won’t do. As you can tell by the aroma, this place processes shit. It also processes body parts courtesy of Ramirez. All that slicing and dicing along with strong chemicals can make all sorts of things disappear. This room is encased in solid concrete so you can yell and scream till your throat is raw. Depending on how the next ten minutes goes, you might end up doing that anyway.’

  Silverton paused and Mechanic could hear a metallic sheering noise behind her. She shuddered when she realised Ramirez was sharpening blades on a stone.

  ‘This is going to be simple. I’m gonna show you some pictures and ask you some questions. The questions are straightforward – what and why.’

  Silverton removed a series of photographs from an envelope and spread them on the floor in front of her.

  ‘This is a still from the CCTV footage in the hotel car park showing you and Walker getting into the car. Time stamp is 14.03. You drive off together. This one shows you returning and getting out of the car at 17.12. No Walker. First question is, what did you do with Walker?’

  Mechanic looked at the pictures then up at Silverton. She thought of Jo and the Huxtons at Honeydew House. She had to get out of this alive. There was little point in holding back, Ramirez would kill her for sure.

  She swallowed hard. Her neck ached with the constant strain of looking up.

  ‘I killed him.’

  Silverton let out a sigh and flashed a knowing look at Ramirez. ‘I figured you had. Next question is, why?’

  Mechanic tried to keep herself calm but it freaked the hell out of her that she couldn’t see Ramirez.

  ‘The carjacking was a stunt. The real plan was to kidnap you and extort money.’

  ‘What!’ shouted Silverton. ‘That’s bullshit.’

  She tensed her body, waiting for Ramirez to strike.

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s the truth. Walker planned to hit the car and snatch you. He would conduct the negotiations and walk away with two million dollars.’

  Ramirez went to the table and picked up the pliers. He knelt down grasping Mechanic’s hand. She could feel the bite of the jaws as they clamped on her little finger.

  ‘It’s the truth!’ she shouted, fighting to pull her hand away. ‘Why would I lie? Walker knew I’d worked it out. I had to kill him before he killed me. You got to believe me.’ The bite of the pliers was excruciating as Ramirez increased the pressure. ‘Why the fuck would I lie? I have nothing to gain by lying!’ Mechanic was fighting back the surging panic. Ramirez twisted the pliers. She screamed. All she could see was her sister in the wheelchair.

  Silverton nodded and Ramirez stepped away. Mechanic let out a huge sigh as the pain subsided. She gritted her teeth and stared at Ramirez. Her look said it all – I’ll fucking kill you.

  ‘The little shit!’ Silverton’s voice echoed around the walls. ‘All the things I did for him.’ He’d turned an unhealthy shade of pink.

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Mechanic said looking up at Silverton. ‘Walker didn’t plan for you to employ me during your visit. He tried to frighten me off. When I didn’t play ball his only option was for his men to take me out.’

  ‘But you were too good for them.’ Silverton’s colour was receding back to pasty white. ‘So you killed Walker before he had the chance to kill you.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. You had to be an idiot not to see it was a botched kidnapping. The carjacking didn’t make sense. To him I was a loose end. I had to strike first.’

  ‘I didn’t work out it was a kidnapping,’ Silverton said defensively.

  ‘With a
ll due respect, sir, that’s not your line of work.’

  ‘Where’s the body?’

  ‘In a warehouse about an hour’s drive east. It’s burned and concealed in a cavity wall.’

  ‘You nasty bitch,’ Silverton said with admiration in his voice. ‘Are you going to kill me as well?’

  Mechanic looked at him and shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘How can I believe you?’ Silverton asked.

  ‘I have nothing to gain from killing you and if I wanted you dead … you would be.’ Silverton nodded his head in agreement. She had a point. He signalled to Ramirez who stepped forward with a long hunting knife.

  ‘No I’m telling you the truth, don’t …’ She let out a scream and fought against the restraints binding her to the chair as the blade slashed downwards.

  The razor-sharp edge sliced through the rope and she catapulted backwards. She stared up at Ramirez. He placed the knife back in his belt with a look of genuine disappointment. He hadn’t got to play with his toys today.

  She looked at her bruised and bloodied finger then sideways at Ramirez. She might not kill Silverton but given half a chance she would not afford his companion the same courtesy.

  Mechanic breathed deeply, arched her back and rotated her head. She could feel the bones cracking back into place as she regained her posture. Her hands hurt like hell.

  ‘I believe you,’ Silverton said as he walked around the room then returned to Mechanic.

  She offered him her tied wrists.

  ‘I presume I passed the test.’

  ‘You did. Sorry about that.’ He nodded again and Ramirez cut the cord. Blood rushed into her purple hands and pain surged into her damaged finger.

  Silverton disappeared from view then returned with an envelope. He removed a further set of black and white photographs.

  ‘My business interests in Vegas are wide and varied. One of the more lucrative is the trafficking and distribution of class A drugs for from Mexico. I run them through California and then on to Nevada. I have an active network here in Vegas which is exceptionally profitable. Normally things are pretty cool, other dealers are happy to stick to their own piece of the playground. But my operation got hit and no one on the street knows jack shit about it. I will pay you fifteen grand up front, with a twenty grand success fee.’

  He placed the pictures in Mechanic’s lap.

  ‘I want the bastards that did this. I want them to have some quality time with Ramirez and I want to watch.’

  She looked at the photos.

  The first depicted a tall, lean guy lying on the ground in a pool of blood, his neck slashed wide open. The second showed a short, stocky guy with tattoos on his neck and chest, also lying with a dark halo of blood around his disfigured skull. The third was of a fat guy sitting on the sidewalk against a wall. His head was tilted back, eyeballs bulging at the sky, skewered in place by a giant metal cocktail stick rammed down his throat.

  Mechanic rotated her head again and bones cracked in her neck.

  ‘I got a better idea.’

  22

  Lucas opened his front door to Harper standing in the rain. The streetlights spilled bouncing pools of yellow light across the sheets of water on the road.

  ‘Hey, come in.’

  Harper wiped his feet on the mat and still succeeded in leaving dirty, wet imprints on the carpet as he entered the house. Lucas watched the trail of footprints disappear into the living room. He shook his head and followed.

  Harper removed his coat, dumped it in the corner of the room and made a beeline for the whisky. Any pretence of being on the waggon was long gone.

  ‘You want one?’ he said over his shoulder as Lucas picked Harper’s dripping coat off the carpet and tossed it into the hall.

  ‘Yeah, that would be good.’ Lucas was used to his friend helping himself.

  Harper handed him a glass with enough liquor in it to kill a horse. He dug into his jacket pocket and gave Lucas a book of tickets.

  ‘A night flight?’ Lucas said.

  ‘Yeah, it was cheaper.’

  ‘The Lucky 6? Never heard of it.’

  ‘Nor me, I found it on teletext. It’s a new motel on the outskirts of Vegas. They had a deal, so I called and booked us in. It was cheap.’

  Lucas read the hotel details.

  ‘The location is perfect and at twenty dollars a night that will do nicely.’

  ‘Ten dollars.’

  ‘What? It says here twenty bucks.’

  ‘It does but they only had one room. So it’s ten each.’

  ‘You booked us into one room? I’m not staying with—’

  ‘Get over yourself,’ Harper interrupted before his friend could protest further. ‘Like you said, it’s in a great place and the room has two queen beds. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘Oh that’s all right then. Two queen beds with two queens to go in them.’

  ‘Relax. I said we were brothers.’ Harper slurped his whisky.

  Lucas looked at Harper, his mouth dropping open.

  ‘It might have slipped your notice but I am several shades of skin tone darker than you. How the hell are we brothers?’

  ‘You always look for the negatives,’ Harper said. ‘They were a bit edgy about letting the room to two guys, so I said we were brothers.’

  ‘You’re white, I’m black and we have different surnames.’ Lucas threw his hands up and looked to the ceiling.

  ‘It’ll be fine. And we can pick up some firearms when we’re there.’

  ‘Oh no, we don’t.’ Lucas said shaking his head. ‘The last time I was in the same room with you and a gun, you shot me.’

  ‘Will you give it a rest with the “you shot me” routine? It’s pissing me off. It was an accident, okay. You keep bringing it up and making a big thing about it.’

  ‘Making a big thing about it? You shot me in the fucking head!’

  ‘You’re overreacting.’

  ‘You shot me! That’s why I don’t want to be around you when you’re packing a gun.’

  ‘So what do you think we’re gonna do when we find Mechanic? Attack her with rolled up newspapers?’

  Lucas fell silent and sipped his whisky. He knew guns were inevitable.

  Harper looked around the room. There were piles of clothes in the corner and dirty dishes lay beside the sofa. Used coffee cups were stacked up on the coffee table and the whole place reeked of day-old fish.

  ‘Where’s your wife?’ Harper asked craning his head to look into the kitchen. Pots and pans were piled into the sink and cereal packets cluttered the countertops. The burned remnants of a battered fish dinner welded to the grill pan gave away the source of the smell.

  ‘She’s spending a couple of days with a friend,’ Lucas replied casually.

  ‘You made a shit load of mess in a couple of days.’

  ‘Yeah well, maybe.’

  ‘Sorry man,’ said Harper.

  That’s the problem with having a cop for a friend. You tell them the bare minimum and they know everything.

  ‘We’ll sort it,’ Lucas sighed. ‘So, we got flights and accommodation. How do we find the bitch?’ He got up from the chair and reached for the whisky bottle.

  ‘I figure we need to keep a low profile, so we split up. Hire a couple of cars and cruise around, not sure there’s much else we can do. If we start flashing around her mug shot she’s bound to find out and then it’s game over. What do you think?’

  ‘I think that’s the wrong plan.’ Lucas pulled a wad of paper from the sideboard. ‘If we go for Mechanic head on she’ll see us coming a mile off. She’ll either do a runner or kill us both, and that’s if we manage to find her. She’ll have a different identity and a changed appearance, we wouldn’t recognise her if she served us coffee and pancakes for a week. We need to be clever about this.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘The chances are Mechanic has no footprint for us to track. The same cannot be said for her sister Jo. If we’re right then she will be wi
th Mechanic somewhere in Vegas. What did we say? Off the grid but close enough to keep an eye on her.’

  Harper scratched his forehead. ‘Are you telling me that Mechanic took her sister all the way to Vegas when she’d just been shot? How the shit would she manage that?’

  ‘If Jo is alive, Mechanic would never leave her behind and would want to keep her close. If Mechanic has surfaced in Vegas, her sister won’t be far away.’

  ‘Hell, I don’t know. How would she get her there? Jo took a shot to the head remember. She can’t take a plane or train and it’s a journey of two thousand miles. You couldn’t drive—’

  Lucas interrupted, ‘Two thousand and forty-nine to be precise. Why not? We can’t fall into our usual trap of making up convoluted scenarios. What’s the straightforward answer here? Why not hire an RV along with a bent nurse to attend to Jo en route? The nurse gets paid over the odds for her silence and four days later they arrive on the other side of the country. I agree it’s a lot to take in but how many times have we been in this position and we talk ourselves out of the obvious?’

  ‘Yeah, we sure do a lot of that,’ Harper said.

  ‘I don’t believe we’ll get anywhere near her, she’s too smart and we’ll get burned, or worse. If we look for Mechanic, it’s needle-in-a-haystack time at best and she might end up killing both of us. If we look for Jo instead, that narrows down the field significantly. Remember, we only tracked her down last time by going fishing – we set up that fake telephone line with the recorded message and Jo did the rest. She led us right to Mechanic.’

  ‘How do you think we should play it this time?’

  ‘There are twenty-eight care facilities in Vegas and the surrounding area. If we’re right, then Jo will be in one of them.’ Lucas spread the papers on the floor showing a list of twenty-eight names and addresses. ‘We don’t look for Mechanic. We look for Jo.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘We go fishing again, using Jo as bait.’

  23

  The night flight was unremarkable. Lucas set out a detailed schedule of visits, mapping out the most effective route between the nursing homes to maximise their coverage. Harper, on the other hand, snored through the five-hour flight after quenching his late-night thirst from the American Airlines drinks trolley.