by Matt Hilton
It didn’t surprise me that they’d kept at least another gunman in reserve, out of sight, probably now with us in his rifle’s cross hairs. If we had the numbers, it’s what we would do.
Mercer walked a pace ahead of me. I steadied him with a hand on his elbow. Although the ground looked relatively flat it was actually potted with holes and drainage channels. Rink fanned out to the side so we didn’t form a single unit, or more correctly a single target. As we walked, Vince urged Sue forward and they met us pace for pace. I checked Sue out. She was gagged and her wrists were cinched, but she had the benefit of vision over Mercer: even then one eye looked darker than the other. Her face was puffy and her hair stood out in wild tufts. She’d taken a beating, and that made my blood run cold. She staggered as she moved closer, and it wasn’t down to the uneven surface. Vince didn’t lend her a supportive hand. He took delight in her floundering, a cocky grin lighting up his narrow features.
At one point a foot went in a deep pothole and she collapsed to her opposite knee. Her hands caught her from going face down in the dirt, and she pushed up again, gigged onward by a snarky round of laughter from her trio of captors.
Despite her cumbersome progress, Sue’s gaze barely left us. At once it was on Mercer, blindfolded and restrained, then on me and Rink, and there was a look of deep betrayal in her stricken features. Her desolation said that all she’d gone through had been for nothing. She’d withstood torture, only for us to hand Mercer over to the men intent on murdering him. I returned her look with steely aloofness.
Vince brought her up short with approximately twenty paces separating us. I told Mercer to halt. He shook where he stood.
‘Keep it together, Mercer,’ I whispered, doing my best ventriloquism act I could manage.
‘Is…is she here?’
‘She’s here,’ I said.
‘How does she look?’
‘Worse than she should.’ I stepped up alongside him, and raised my chin a little to stare down my nose at Vince.
‘It’s been years, guys,’ Vince called, ‘and then we bump into each other a few times in the last couple of days. Who’d have seen that coming, huh?’
‘Quit your bullshit, Vince,’ I said. ‘I’m as happy you’re back as having a recurring boil on my arse.’
It didn’t matter how hard I tried insulting him, he always took my words in jest. He grinned, looked across at his big dark haired pal as if to share the joke. The thug was too intent on watching Rink, though, his square jaw set and eyebrows lowered. The fair-headed mug was equally staring at me, his tongue rolled in his bottom lip: he looked stupid rather than intimidating.
Vince said, ‘Things don’t have to be awkward between us, Hunter. I mean we’re old pals, and can be again if we keep things nice and easy. Lookit, I’ve got you a gift like it’s Christmas, and I see you’ve got one for me. Let’s swap.’
‘You were warned that Sue must be unharmed. Who did that to her face?’
Vince shrugged. ‘You saw how unsteady she is on her feet just now, clumsy girl fell and bashed her face on a door.’
Sue didn’t react to the obvious lie. She was too intent on checking out Mercer; staring so hard she might peel back the layers of his hood to reveal the face underneath.
I didn’t comment further on her injures. I didn’t have to. As Vince had replied, the big guy’s gaze had slipped from Rink to Sue, and I’d noted a muscle bunch in his jaw. I shelved away the knowledge of who was primarily responsible for her injuries for later.
Vince raised the barrel of his pistol, but only to use as an indicator. Understanding his request, I turned enough to grasp Mercer’s hood and pull it off. Mercer blinked wildly as he took in the scenario. He breathed heavily; he’d stopped shivering though.
Opposite him, Sue’s eyes widened, and I guess she would have called his name if not for the gag tied tightly between her teeth. Mercer straightened a few inches, and a low-pitched whine escaped from between his teeth. I clutched his elbow once again, holding him back.
‘Steady on,’ I warned.
Vince aimed his pistol directly at Mercer’s chest.
‘This job was only ever about finishing the job you started on him,’ Vince said. ‘Why not cut all the dramatics and let me get things over with and we can all leave this place as friends again?’
‘Shoot him before we have Sue,’ Rink growled, his pistol now aimed at Vince’s head, ‘and I’ll blow your brains all over this place.’
All of Vince’s lackeys sought targets.
Vince smiled, unfazed by the threat. ‘Just saying.’
‘Send Sue to us, we’ll start Mercer walking to you,’ I said.
I was totally aware that the woman at the glade’s edge had settled her rifle into her shoulder, prepping to drop us at Vince’s gesture.
‘Tell your bitch to stand down,’ I warned Vince, ‘or the deal’s off and we start shooting. Are you confident you won’t be the first to die before we do?’
Vince seemed agreeable with my instruction. He flapped his fingers at the woman. ‘Pam, Pam, take it easy, will you? We’re ol’ pals here.’
She scowled, but lowered her rifle, if only by an increment.
The setting sun now rode the horizon, a fiery orange ball. I’d swear that the temperature had dropped several degrees in as many seconds.
Vince moved so he was directly behind Sue. He said something to her I was unable to hear, but in response she straightened her shoulders, preparing, no doubt, to advance with the threat of a bullet in her back if she tried to run before she’d crossed paths with Mercer.
‘We’re good to go at this end,’ Vince called.
‘Then start her walking.’
‘Mercer first.’
I nodded. Jabbed Mercer roughly on the shoulder. ‘Get moving, arsehole,’ I growled. As he began his march across the glade, I stepped sideways, to keep Vince and his lackeys in view.
Sue came on, still unsteady, but gaining speed with each step.
Mercer matched her for pace, although he staggered once when he trod in sucking mud. He pulled loose, kicking dirt out of his shoe, but kept going.
As they got to within a few feet I knew if things were going to go bad it was now.
I couldn’t see Mercer’s face, but Sue’s had folded around the gag in horror. She was making muffled noises, probably trying to imbue how sorry she was that we’d betrayed him for her sake.
They passed within a couple of feet of each other, Sue never taking her eyes off him. Mercer though proceeded with his eyes forward, now staring grimly at Vince, whose face had taken on a devilish grin. Vince angled himself so that Mercer was between him and Rink’s gun, while he aimed his pistol at me. He’d no intention of shooting yet though, his other hand flicked an instruction, and from the edge of the glade a rifle barked.
27
In warfare, plans often work only until the first bullet flies. Following that split-second everything changes, and then it’s down to the fluidity of what happens next that determines the winners and losers. Often the end result is determined not by numbers or firepower but mostly by who is the most aggressive, or on who is most determined to survive, and not a little bit on luck.
It seemed Vince’s plan was to wait until Mercer was in range of a shot, then his riflewoman would drop Rink and me, and then he’d take back Sue, and end her too. Whether or not he intended shooting Mercer the instant he’d given the woman the signal to shoot or not, things didn’t go his way. Chaos exploded around him, giving him few options: kill Mercer immediately or save his own arse. He chose the latter, even before the sound of the rifle shot had faded. He dropped to a wide crouch, gun up, but he didn’t fire. He was too busy plotting an escape route.
Several others jostled for their lives in the next second.
Jason Mercer ripped free of his restraints. Unbeknown to Vince and the others, I’d secured his wrists with ample duct-tape, but then cut through them, and re-secured the sundered sides in place again with single square
s of tape: they looked formidable but all Mercer needed do was twist and yank apart his hands and he was freed. Hidden in his waistband was his pistol. He grabbed it, even as he lurched backwards, one arm extended to grasp and force Sue down to safety, while he chose his target. He fired, and blood puffed from Vince, even as the assassin spun away and scrambled for the relative safety of the trees.
In synchrony Rink and I fired, even as our opponents tried to kill us.
Rink’s bullet punched the big guy in the chest, while mine hit lower down in my sturdy blond target. Neither man died before they got off shots of his own. I felt a bullet fan the air near my face, and I dipped away, out of line of a second round. I shot again, and this time the fair-headed thug sunk to one knee. My bullet had hit him in much the same place as the first. Blood at his gut shone wetly in the sun’s dying rays. I too went to a knee but it was because the ground was treacherous. I settled myself and saw the thug blink in pained bewilderment at me, and this time I sent a bullet into his chest. He keeled over backwards and didn’t move. All the while, Vince continued scrambling away, heading for where the riflewoman lay dead among the trees.
Rink’s opponent wasn’t dead. He had his left palm plastered over a bleeding wound in his chest, but his other hand was steady as he fired at Rink. My friend paid a toll in the shape of a nick of skin from his right forearm, and it also pulled off his aim as he returned fire. The big guy, mouth open in a shout of rage, came at Rink, as if the few extra feet would ensure him a cleaner shot. Rink shot him, again plugging the man’s chest, and even if he didn’t die in the next few seconds the wounds were fatal. The big guy understood his life was numbered in minutes, but it seemed he wanted to spend each second in destruction. He yelled a challenge, and fired again at Rink, though his shot went wide. Rink blasted him a third time, and this bullet halted the man in his tracks. His shattered jaw hung awry, but still he wasn’t dead.
Rink could’ve finished him. I should have let him. But I’d noted the bastard’s flicker of guilt when I asked who was responsible for hurting Sue, so I took some pleasure in shooting him in the temple. He toppled sideways like a felled tree, splashing into a drainage ditch filled with scummy water.
Immediately my attention went to Mercer and Sue.
He was on top of her, shielding her with his larger body, while he sought a target.
There wasn’t one.
Vince had made it to the trees, and he hadn’t halted there. Even armed with the dead woman’s rifle, he knew he was the one now outgunned, outnumbered and outmanoeuvred. He kept running, and we let him go. Rink and I moved to cover Mercer and Sue while they scrambled to get up. After helping her drag the gag down her chin, Mercer enfolded Sue in an embrace, and kissed her face and lips repeatedly: Sue looked a little stunned by the familiarity, but didn’t shy away either. In fact, after a few seconds, and a brief glance at Rink, she returned his kisses. Rink grimaced in mock disgust, but then he exchanged a look with me, and snorted.
‘There’s no accountin’ for bad taste,’ he said.
‘Each to their own, I guess.’
Rink shoved away his gun and clasped the bleeding wound on his forearm. ‘I’ll tell you what gives me a worse taste in my mouth. After all these mutts died here, Vince has gotten away scot free.’
He was correct. An engine roared from somewhere beyond the trees, but surprisingly not that of a vehicle hidden further along the trail. This engine sounded different. Vince was out on the bayou, making off in a speedboat.
‘That sumbitch has more lives than a damn cat,’ Rink growled.
‘His luck won’t last forever,’ I assured him.
Still holding each other, Mercer and Sue now looked at us. Sue’s expression had morphed from one of deep betrayal to stunned gratitude. She said, ‘You all worked together to free me?’
‘Yeah,’ said Rink. ‘We all had our parts to play, and thankfully it worked. It wouldn’t’ve if Mercer hadn’t helped.’
Mercer blinked in shame. ‘Vince escaped. I was supposed to shoot that evil son of a bitch. I’m sorry…my aim isn’t what it used to be.’
Rink frowned at the implication, but this wasn’t a poke at him. ‘You did well, Mercer. You got him, chased him the hell away, and that’s good enough for now. Things might’ve gone different if Vince had gotten a clean shot at any of us.’
‘I can’t believe this,’ Sue said, a look of amazement now predominant, ‘we’re all here, alive, and—’
Standing out in the open, I thought.
And the math surrounding Vince’s people still didn’t add up.
I said, ‘Let’s get out of here before—’
But my warning came too late.
Mercer jerked, and Sue stiffened with a faint grunt.
The sound of a distant rifle shot followed a half-second later.
I was already moving, as was Rink.
He tumbled both Mercer and Sue to the ground so they were hidden in a shallow ditch. I crouched, offering less of a target, seeking the source of the shot with the barrel of my own gun. Over that distance, my pistol might be ineffective, but it was all I had.
Another shot sailed over my head, displacing air with a whine. I dived to the earth, scrambling to find cover.
Three sharp cracks sounded, one following on the back of the other. Then there was silence.
No. That wasn’t the accurate truth.
I could hear Rink speaking urgently, Mercer emitting a sound it’s hard to describe other than it was inhuman, and a series of short rapid gasps. But the gunfire had fallen silent.
I raised my head, seeking danger.
The sun was now down, the sky a fiery nimbus on the western horizon, and the shadows had deepened all around us. There was no movement from where I’d judged the shots originated. I rose up by increments, ready to go to ground again if the rifle fired.
It didn’t.
I climbed further into a crouch, still alert to danger, but one ear on the unfolding drama behind me.
At the far left of the lozenge a figure appeared from the gloom. Some final fingers of light picked out the shape, and it was tall and amorphous at first. I levelled my pistol, but wasn’t overly concerned. When telling Mercer that Vince held the cards, but not all of the aces, I’d been referring to this man. He was one of our aces. As he began a slow jog forward, a rifle canted across his chest, his costume billowed, and he threw back his hood. Those last rays of sunlight danced on his bald head where he hadn’t bothered plastering camouflage paint.
He approached, slowing, and came to a more measured pace as he negotiated some wet channels in the earth. He was wearing a hunter’s Ghillie-suit, at odds with the expensively tailored attire he usually favoured, and yet even in ragged net and fake foliage Harvey Lucas struck a sharp figure.
As he joined me, his painted features were set in a grim frown. He checked out the two corpses sprawled nearby, then the dimmer figure just inside the treeline.
‘I got that first shooter,’ he said with a nod at the dead woman, ‘at the get go, but was unaware of a second sniper til he opened fire. Shot that fucker dead too, but I was too late. I’m sorry, man.’
I gripped his lean shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘None of us knew there was a second shooter,’ I said, but it wasn’t the entire truth. I’d been spinning the sums around my brain, trying to equate the numbers of dead with how many of Vince’s team had arrived last night in the SUV’s. I’d been worried that there was another one we’d missed, at least.
‘Vince escaped?’
‘Yeah, but he’s injured,’ I said, as if it were a consolation prize.
Harvey chewed his lip, took another sidelong glance at the woman Vince had called Pam. He looked away. As far as I knew, she was the first female he’d ever been forced to kill and it might not sit well with his conscience.
‘If you hadn’t got her she’d have slaughtered us all,’ I said.
‘Yeah.’ He rocked back on his heels a bit, and I followed his gaze to where Rink sto
od over Mercer and Sue. My big friend’s shoulders were rounded, his head hanging low. He reached down and cajoled Mercer to stand. I felt sick to my stomach, because Sue didn’t get up, and those short rapid gasps had faded to nothing.
28
We abandoned the bodies where they’d fallen, all but for Sue’s.
Leaving her behind was the sensible move but Mercer wouldn’t hear it, and to be fair it hadn’t crossed any of our minds either. She deserved better than to be food for the birds and critters before Arrowsake inevitably dispatched a clean up crew. If he’d been able, Mercer would have carried her to the Ford himself, but he was too injured, and also wrung out with grief. The same high-powered round that’d slain her had first cut a chunk out of his side on its way to drilling a hole through her chest. He was bleeding, and possibly had broken ribs, and had to be assisted from the glade by Harvey’s steadying arm. Between us, Rink and I carried Sue with as much dignity and respect as befitted a fallen comrade at arms.
When travelling to the glade it’d been a squeeze fitting four burly guys in the Ford, especially considering Harvey was toting a rifle, and Mercer had been pre-prepared to resemble a hostage. That time when Rink halted the car and Harvey slipped out with his gun, it had been a relief for Mercer to pull the pillowcase over his head and stretch across the back seat for the remainder of the journey. Leaving we had one extra passenger, and none of us countenanced the idea of stuffing her into the trunk. We did the best we could for her, seating her between Harvey and Mercer in the back, where the men could support her, but also conceal her from the view of other road users. As it were, for most of the drive south, Mercer held her against him, her head on his shoulder, as if she were a lover fallen asleep in his embrace.
We were all heartsick at her loss, even Harvey who Sue was a total stranger to. He felt guilty he hadn’t killed the second sniper before he’d taken his fatal shot, but Sue’s death wasn’t on Harvey. If anything, we owed our lives to Harvey, because pinned down in the glade we’d have been dropped one after the other by the sniper. He described how he’d stolen in through the woods after we’d dropped him off, and set up, placing the woman, Pam, in his sights, deeming her the immediate threat as we’d approached. He’d fired the instant he saw her prepare to gun us down at Vince’s signal. Unbeknown to him, Vince’s other sniper had snuck up barely a hundred feet away, unaware of where Harvey’s shot had come from, and stayed undetected until after our brief battle curtailed and he squeezed his trigger. As the rifleman then fired on me — and thankfully missed — Harvey had pinpointed him by his muzzle flash, and then as my would-be killer got me in his sights a second time, Harvey had sent a close grouping of shots into him.