The Fourth Option

by Matt Hilton

  ‘Wh-what? Wait a minute! I haven’t paid to have any of them killed.’

  ‘Could the same be said of Henry Lauder?’

  I had no clue whom Henry Lauder was, but apparently Carling knew from the way in which he flinched at the name. Probably for our benefit, Walter elucidated. ‘Lauder was a councilman standing in the way of your business expansion plans. Had he been around to continue his objections there was a potential loss to your company in the region of tens of millions of dollars plus change. You will remember being approached by people that promised to make Councilman Lauder disappear, in return for your continued sponsorship in their future endeavours.’ Walter snapped a palm out to halt Carling’s bleats of denial. ‘Corporate and industrial espionage is a component of Arrowsake these days, and clearing the way for their sponsors a mainstay of their fund-raising efforts. Although you might not be directly connected to the effort to murder my boys, you are one of those putting up the cash that pays their would-be killers.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of…what did you call them, Arrowsake?’

  ‘Of course you don’t know the name under which they operate. Nevertheless, you know they exist, and regularly deposit large donations into the charitable institutes via which they launder payments. I understand your dilemma, Wyatt: you made a deal with the devil and now your soul is forfeit. You paid them to make a rival disappear, but are now being blackmailed into continuing to pay for their silence. You are a coward, a weakling, and you know you wouldn’t survive prison should they ever release the evidence of your involvement in Lauder’s murder, therefore you keep on paying. What’s a few hundred grand here and there to a man now with a net worth of billions, huh? You regularly donate cash, and granted some of it does indeed find its way to the humanitarian causes it’s intended, but some doesn’t. Until now, you’ve been able to turn a blind eye to where that money goes, and are able to enjoy the fruits of your wealth despite the tarnish on your conscience. Look at these men again, Wyatt. You funded the people trying their outmost to kill them, and who recently murdered a companion dear to them. You came here fearing torture—’ Walter deliberately dropped the pliers and they clattered on the floor ‘—when right now you’ve a worse fate to fear. Take a look at their faces; they are struggling against the impulse to rip you limb from limb. If I stepped out of this room and left you alone with them…’

  I kept the emotion off my face, while Rink contained himself by sucking in his bottom lip and chewing down on it. Mercer, however, took a lunge towards Carling, his fingers working as if he was going to rend him apart: he wasn’t acting either. Carling cringed in anticipation, but Walter halted Mercer with an upraised hand.

  ‘I’m not going to step out, and these men won’t do you any further harm. That is, if you agree to work with us to stop those bastards.’

  ‘I’ll do anything,’ Carling promised, ‘but I don’t see how, not without condemning myself.’

  Walter exhaled sharply. ‘Wyatt, what you did is nothing compared to what they’re guilty of. They’ll be more concerned about saving their own asses than ruining you.’

  37

  ‘How do you feel about Walter lettin’ Carling off the hook?’ Rink asked me.

  ‘I’m not happy about him getting away with the councilman’s murder, but I guess I have to go along with it seeing as this was mostly my idea.’

  We’d gone topside to get some air. It was probably 3 a.m. or there about. It was a cool night, with no breeze, and there was stillness over the nearby swamp. We stood in the lea of the concrete block and metal tower. Downstairs Walter and Mercer were going over what was expected from Wyatt Carling in the coming hours, Walter laying out the details, Mercer looming menacingly should Carling decide he didn’t approve of what was being demanded of him. I for one had had my fill of terrorising the man into acquiescence for now, whether or not he’d been complicit in the plot to murder a rival. The business we were involved in was murky however I looked at it. We’d killed rivals, and to their friends and dearly beloved we’d be seen as villains, murderers even. It was all a matter of perspective. In our narrative we were the good guys, despite our questionable tactics. Maybe it was preferable to think of us as good men doing bad things to worse people.

  Unexpectedly Rink chuckled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just wonderin’ how Carling’s gonna straighten things out with his famous buddy once he gets home. The look on that guy’s face was priceless.’

  ‘The drunk guy I choked out?’

  ‘Tell me you recognised him, brother.’

  There was something familiar about his face, I just couldn’t place where I’d seen it before. I shrugged.

  ‘I’m surprised, the previous time you saw his face it was probably thirty feet tall on a movie screen.’

  I got it, despite having never been near a cinema for years. ‘He’s that guy that does all those brainless action movies?’

  ‘Jon Cutter,’ Rink confirmed. ‘He plays the super spy in the Death Before Dawn series. His stunt double’s obviously the one that makes him look good on screen, cause he didn’t do shit to defend himself when you grabbed him.’

  ‘He was pissed up,’ I said, making a concession for the ease at which I’d put the actor to sleep.

  Rink chuckled again. ‘I guess if they ever make a film about you, Cutter won’t be gettin’ a casting call.’

  ‘As if that’s ever going to happen,’ I said. ‘But, yeah, if it ever came to it I’d be putting a rider in the contract that he stays well away.’

  ‘I don’t think you need worry about Hollywood miscasting him, he’s far too handsome to play you.’ Rink grinned at my expense and then his mood shifted. ‘I never did care for that asshole. There’s somethin’ sleazy about him, and that’s before I saw him in his soiled boxers and the underage girl he was with. Mark my words, Hunter, that guy will be found out and get his comeuppance before long.’

  Perhaps, I thought. But it’d have to be some other crusader for justice to bring him down, because right then Cutter didn’t even register on my radar. He was barely a momentary distraction, something to lighten the mood and keep our minds off what was coming.

  Rink scuffed at the dirt with his boot heel.

  Out towards the river something screeched a death cry, probably prey to one of the alligators the river was named after.

  I kept my pistol close, not for fear of alligators. I’d bet the woods were teeming with dangerous wildlife, bears, bobcats and who knew what else? We were secure enough behind the tall wire fence, but not from the most dangerous of predators: humans. Had Carling’s security team been allowed to report his abduction, we could have been tracked here by law enforcement, or by Arrowsake, but once we safely had our prisoner off his property Walter had called and spoken with the guard in charge. In no uncertain terms he’d warned what would happen to Carling if we caught even a sniff of pursuit, and also that, if he complied, Carling would be returned unharmed in the morning. Trying to sound as if he was still in command of the situation, the guard had agreed to a twelve hour window in which he’d run damage control with those affected at the stud farm, but if Carling wasn’t returned…

  The guard had no bargaining power, but he needn’t have been concerned — except perhaps for his job once Carling was returned home — as we fully intended taking Carling back unharmed, but fully coerced into our way of thinking.

  We stayed outside for the best part of an hour. We talked through what had happened, and how we hoped to put right the wrongs done to us all, especially to Sue. We went over our plan to avenge her. We’d ridden the elevator platform up earlier. We heard it retreating into the bowels of the black site, knowing Walter had summoned it. There was nothing down there we needed to fetch, so we waited, ready to return to our Jeep and head back to the airstrip. The concrete building vibrated as the elevator platform made its upward march. Twenty seconds later, we moved to the door to greet the others. Mercer led Carling out first, and I could tell there’d been a
paradigm shift in Carling’s thought processes since we’d snatched him. He nodded at me as if I was an old pal, instead of a fellow conspirator. He hadn’t been restrained again, but still stood bare-chested, in his damp trousers and socks. As Walter stepped out to join us, he laid a companionable hand on Carling’s shoulder.

  ‘Our friend Wyatt may be taken home now,’ Walter announced.

  I gave my old mentor a look, and he nodded behind Carling’s back. It was all the confirmation I needed. The multi-billionaire had agreed to a shift of allegiance and would assist us in springing our next trap.

  More confident in his place among us, Carling made an expansive outward sweep of his palms. ‘Come on, you guys. Isn’t there one of you going to offer me your jacket? I mean…look at me, practically standing here bare assed!’

  ‘Just remember you’re lucky to be standing at all,’ Mercer growled at him, and gave him a shove to follow us to the Jeep.

  Our drive back to the landing strip was made with me seated in the back with Carling. Mercer sat up front with Rink. It was best: the murderous glances Mercer had aimed at Carling as we led him to the Jeep told us there was still a possibility of him exacting revenge for Sue on the man who’d — albeit unknowingly — pay-rolled her killing. Walter had stayed behind at the black site to close it down and had organised a different mode of exfiltration once he was done. We were met again by the shady crew and boarded their jet for the flight back to Virginia. Our van was waiting for us at the Naval supply base.

  Back at Carling’s playground we drove directly in through the gates towards the big house. It was dawn, but we were surrounded by a hive of activity. As well as members of house staff, and a few lingering guests there were perhaps ten armed guards now acting far more vigilant than they had last night. They waited hard-faced and determined as Rink pulled the van to a halt next to the big house. The guards had spread out so that they didn’t offer single targets; I recognised a couple of familiar faces, one of them from his bruises as the puzzle player. Hollywood golden egg Jon Cutter was nowhere in sight, and neither was the Airbus H145: apparently the fake super spy wanted no part of the real world of secret agents and assassins and had high-tailed it out of the way, but I didn’t hold that against him. While we’d been in the air, Walter had again paved the way with a call to the head of security. Carling’s supposed protectors had gathered in solidarity, as they’d all been equally at fault in losing their mark, and were determined to show they weren’t completely useless when it came to taking him off our hands.

  It could have been the moment for an FBI hostage rescue team to pounce, or even for a reckoning with Vince or other Arrowsake gunmen, but we were confident enough that Carling’s people had taken heed of Walter’s instructions. As I slid open the side door of the van and stepped down, some of those facing me shifted, and I watched a few itchy fingers reach subtly for weapons. But then Carling climbed out, and all eyes went to him. There was still the possibility that Carling could do something stupid like order his pack of guards to take us on, which would probably result in a high body count on both sides, but he didn’t.

  One man stood opposite us with mixed emotions flitting over his features. I knew him from his size and build that he was the one I’d dumped on his head and left tied up on the riverbank. He at first sent dire unspoken threats at me, then blinked at the dirt in embarrassment rather than meet Carling’s eyes. I took it he was the one in charge that’d been taking Walter’s calls.

  ‘Somebody get me a shirt,’ Carling announced. He looked down at his stockinged feet. ‘And a pair of goddamn shoes.’

  The head guard gestured to somebody behind him, then turned again open mouthed to Carling. ‘Sir, I—’

  Carling stalled him with the jab of a finger. ‘Don’t speak,’ was all he said.

  The guard immediately returned his glare to me. Not only had I dumped him on his head and tied him up, I’d done far worse damage in making him look inept to his employer. I didn’t expect gratitude, but at least he’d woken to a sore head, and not submerged in the river where I’d sent his weapon. He stuck out his chin at me.

  Carling scoffed him on my behalf. ‘Back off, Ronnie. You aren’t in this guy’s league. If you were I never would’ve been taken in the goddamn first place.’

  Cowed, big Ronnie again blinked at the dirt and his ears grew red.

  I kind of felt sorry for him.

  Carling turned to appraise me. ‘You know, once this is over with, and things settle down, maybe you and your pals can come work for me?’

  I held out an olive branch, though not to Carling. ‘Lessons have been learned, and your own guys will do a much better job of protecting you in future.’

  ‘To be fair,’ Carling said, ‘they’re usually good at their jobs. Tends to be manhandling a few rowdy drunks or whores getting too insistent on how much they deserve, not taking on fellas with your skills.’

  I scowled at Carling’s choice of words, but understood that he was paying us a lop-sided compliment. ‘Just do as you agreed and you don’t have to worry about us coming back.’

  He held out his hand.

  I knew what the gesture was intended to mean, but I didn’t accept it. I took his pearl handled gun from behind my back and slapped it in his palm. ‘I’ll keep hold of the bullets for now,’ I told him.

  A woman approached tentatively, carrying a shirt and a pair of leather loafers. She looked to be regular staff rather than any of the working girls Carling had shipped in to entertain his wealthy guests last night. Carling shoved the gun in his pants, and snatched them from her without thanks. He probably paid all of his staff a similar lack of respect given to any of the abused young girls. He was oblivious to my look of disgust as he wormed into the shoes and then pulled on the shirt. Maybe, I thought, I will come back sometime whether you do as agreed or not.

  For the time being I kept my anger to myself, and returned to the van. Carling’s people closed ranks around him, as he marched towards the entrance to his over-excessive home.

  ‘Son of a bitch didn’t even say goodbye,’ Rink grunted to my amusement, before he hit the gas and took us back towards the airstrip.

  38

  With Spencer Booth and his security detail missing, presumed dead, and now one of their wealthy sponsors threatening to withdraw their support, those at the helm of Arrowsake must’ve been experiencing itchy buttholes. The main drive of my plan was to discombobulate them, get them arguing among themselves, but ultimately to get them to realise they were better off negotiating a truce rather than continuing a battle that’d only end up destroying us all. Walter would do the direct negotiating, because I wasn’t interested in seeing any of their vile faces in person incase I couldn’t control my urge to take retribution from them for Sue’s murder. Rink was of a similar opinion, and there was no way we could allow Mercer a meeting with them, not without his hands restrained with unbreakable duct-tape this time.

  We had returned to Florida, and set up in the ranch-style house near the Apalachicola River where we’d first taken Sue’s body, allowing Walter time to deal with them. Walter was confident he could negotiate a deal agreeable to both opposing parties, if not to all of the supporting players. For years Walter had assumed this day might come, when he might have to defend himself against those he’d served loyally for decades. For an equal amount of years he’d been preparing. He’d built a fat dossier on Arrowsake’s personnel and their nefarious activities, and it was damning. Yes, he too would be vilified if ever the contents of the dossier saw light of day, but he believed it would only add weight to the sincerity of his promise to keep it under wraps if Arrowsake agreed to our terms. He was gambling with our liberties too, as there was stuff in that folder that would bring us down as hard as it would anyone else, so we were as keen to see it buried as those we were trying to bargain with. It was akin to a dead man’s switch: the button a suicide bomber holds down until he’s in position — or gunned down — where taking pressure off the button detonates t
he explosives packed around his body. We’d all be obliterated in the explosion. Our friends Harvey Lucas and Raul Velasquez held digital copies of the dossier, ready to release to the media and a number of select prosecutors and trustworthy congressmen and women, if Arrowsake chose not to play ball and came after us. Walter was prepared to dangle Spencer Booth’s unknown — but guessed at — fate before them, as well as how easily we’d gotten to one of their key funders to illustrate how easy we could come for any of them if they continued with acts of aggression. He truly believed the existence of his dossier — and also the evidence of their part in state sanctioned murder in Sierra Leone compiled by Sue — would ultimately prove the ruination of their organisation: knowing of its existence those at its highest level would soon seek to distance themselves from Arrowsake, and once they had fled, those few left behind would scatter or dissolve back into the muck where they belonged.

  The coming demise of Arrowsake would be Sue Bouchard’s enduring legacy to the world. It would be bloodless vengeance, but vengeance all the same, and we thought she’d prefer things that way. She once told me she thought she’d made her feelings on assassins clear, and I suppose she had.

  It felt strange being back at the ranch. We ate, we drank coffee, and we took turns sleeping and standing stag duty, because until we got the all clear from Walter we weren’t safe. We chewed the fat, laughed and joked, and after a while we fell morose and sought our separate places in the house. After the room I’d retired to begun to feel like a prison cell, I stepped outside for some air and found Rink had beaten me to it. He was sitting on the edge of the porch with his pistol resting on his thigh, watchful.

  ‘Whatever happens today, it ain’t the end,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’

  I sat next to him.