It stayed that way for several more miles until Henderson finally said, “You know, dude, it’s pretty fucking wild that we were able to track that little honey down using the same shit farmers use to track their cattle. I mean, that’s some cool tech there, my man.” He looked over at McKnight, who remained silent with his eyes closed. “Hell, I guess that just about makes us modern day cowboys. A couple of John Wayne mother fuckers, am I right?”
Without opening his eyes, McKnight said with a heavy sigh, “Happy, I appreciate how difficult it is for you to remain silent for any period of time; however, I intend to use the next two hours of drive time to get some shuteye. So, unless there is an absolute reason for you to speak, keep your fucking mouth shut. And I promise that once we get these ladies and ourselves safely on the plane and in the air that I will stay vigilant and silent while you take a much-deserved rest during the three-hour flight to New Orleans. Deal?
“Sleep on the plane?” Henderson said incredulously. “You really think I’m going to waste my time sleeping when I have an opportunity to take a ride on that badass Gulfstream?”
“You’re missing the point, Happy,” McKnight said, his eyes still closed.
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“For you to shut the fuck up and stay shut the fuck up.”
✽ ✽ ✽
“Hey, Mack. Wake up,” Henderson said, nudging McKnight on the knee.
McKnight shot up in his seat. He looked dazed for a moment, then turned around to look at the women in the back. Both were still passed out and neither had moved their position.
“We’re ten mikes out from our meet,” Henderson said in anticipation of the question McKnight was about to ask. After McKnight nodded his acknowledgement, Henderson asked, “Good nap?”
“I gotta say, Happy, I’m impressed,” McKnight said as he struggled to maneuver his large frame around in his seat. He then reached into the back and dug out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the inside pocket of his sport coat hanging off the hook above the door. “I had no idea that you could actually stay quiet for so long.” He plunked an American Spirit into his mouth and lit it up.
Henderson ignored the remark. “God damn it, Mack. You know how much I hate it when you smoke in the car.”
“Sorry, dude. No time for us to stop for a smoke break and I gotta have that nicotine fix first thing whenever I wake up.”
Henderson shook his head disapprovingly. “Well, at least open your fucking window before I pass out.”
McKnight took a long, indulgent pull on the cigarette and then blew out a string of smoke rings toward Henderson’s face before letting his window down a crack.
“Asshole,” Henderson said as he let his window down all the way to suck out the thick cloud of smoke that was hovering around his head. The cold air rushing in sent an immediate chill through the car and caused a stir from the women.
“Roll that fucker up before you wake them,” McKnight said as he turned to make sure the ladies were still unconscious.
“Not ‘til you throw that cancer stick out,” Henderson said defiantly.
“God damn it, Happy, why’re you such a fucking pussy,” McKnight said. He took several quick drags on the cigarette before flicking it angrily out his window.
After both windows had been closed, there was a brief moment of disgruntled silence before the navigation system announced that they had arrived at their destination. The men instantly forgot their petty grievances against one another and began scanning the row of abandoned warehouses that ran off to their left behind a rusty chain linked security fence. Henderson made a left into a mud-puddled dirt drive and came to a stop alongside a man holding the gate open for them. McKnight powered down his window, but instead of saying anything, the man, thick-shouldered and wearing a black peacoat and a black navy watch cap pulled down low on his brow, just nodded a square, stubbled jaw in the approximate direction of ten o’clock. McKnight and Henderson’s heads followed the jaw as one and saw a similarly looking shadowy and hardened man in front of a slanted warehouse with its large, front door rolled open. Henderson drove slowly toward the open door, carefully navigating the minefield of puddled ruts along the way.
The man standing by the open door, as equally serious-looking and non-verbal as the man at the gate, also used his chin, a black, thick-bearded chin, as a navigational aid. Henderson followed it into the vacant warehouse and came to a stop alongside a black Cadillac stretch limousine that was parked in the center of the large, dimly lit space, its back-passenger doors already opened. Behind them, the large metal door to the warehouse rolled slowly to a close, its rusty wheels squealing loudly in protest as they grated against the rusty runner.
Henderson powered down the Cadillac and looked over to McKnight. “Well, it’s been quite the adventure so far. I sure hope we don’t get our balls busted for the condition this baby is in.”
“Why would I get my balls busted,” McKnight said as he opened his door. “I wasn’t the one driving like a madman.”
“Fuck you,” Henderson said as he exited the car. He opened the back door, leaned in, and then grabbed RJ under her arms. As he was about to pull her out, he realized that, instead of being there next to him ready to grab the girl by the legs, McKnight was leaning against the hood lighting up a cigarette.
“Damn it, Mack,” Henderson hollered from inside the car, “stop being such a slave to those fucking cancer sticks and get your ass over here to give me a hand with this god damned package.”
McKnight exhaled a cloud of smoke and then said, “Right now, my friend, you have two options. One…” He paused to take another drag on the cigarette. “You can wait until I finish my smoke break and then I’ll help you.” Smoke shot out from his mouth with each word he spoke. “Or two, you can be all gung-ho and move those lovely packages into the limo yourself.”
Henderson released RJ, letting her flop back down onto Toni’s lap. He leaned on the top of the car and shook his head in disbelief. “Unfuckingbelievable,” he said.
McKnight fished out another smoke from the depleted pack and stuck it behind his ear. “Yeah, I like my smokes so fuck you. Cry about it if you want, but it’s a three-hour flight back to base and we both know that I won’t be doing any smoking on little man’s jet.”
Henderson laughed. He had to give him that one. “You mean little man’s daddy’s jet.”
“Same difference when it comes to whether I’ll be able to smoke or not. But to be honest, I thought me allowing you to move the beautiful young ladies all by yourself, the sex-crazed pervert that you are, I’d be doing you a favor.”
Henderson looked at McKnight suspiciously. “What the fuck you talking about, dude. How would you sitting on your ass doing nothing, as usual, be doing me a favor?”
“Well, if I recall correctly, at least one of the young ladies is naked, which means, if you’re moving her by yourself, you’ll have to put your grubby paws all over her exposed and helpless body in order to get the job done.”
“You know, I gotta hand it to you, Big Mack,” Henderson said laughing, “you’re good.” He smacked the roof of the car and then reached back in and took RJ into his arms and carried her over to the waiting limousine.
McKnight took the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it from the nub of the spent smoke, which he then dropped to the ground and smashed with his foot. “There should be an actual package in there with clothes for the naked one. I suppose you wouldn’t mind getting her dressed while I smoke just one more, would you?”
“I don’t know, Mack,” Henderson said from inside the limousine, “my specialty is getting the ladies out of their clothes, not into them.”
“Keep dreaming, stud,” McKnight said.
“Hey, these are some pretty nice duds,” Henderson said. He then popped out of the limousine and held up a dainty pair of thong underwear. “Now, I must say, whoever did the shopping for Ruby’s sister here did a very thorough, and satisfying, job.
McKnigh
t turned toward Henderson just in time to see him stuff the panties into his jacket pocket. “Ham can be accused of many things, but not being thorough is not one of them,” McKnight said as he turned back around to enjoy his smoke. “And remember, those panties are for the little lady, not your perv collection.”
Henderson wasn’t listening, he was staring down lustfully at Toni’s naked body. After carefully lifting her from the back seat, he looked at her cradled in his arms as if he were admiring an exquisite piece of art. “Jesus, Mack, have you ever seen anything so beautiful? I mean...” He paused for a moment, overcome by the magnitude of the beauty he was holding. “I mean, I thought Ruby was the most perfect specimen of a woman that this world had ever witnessed, but, shit, sister girl here… I guess that makes her beyond perfection.”
McKnight gave Toni a quick glance then went back to his smoke. “Enjoy it while you can, hoss,” he said, “because once we get her down south, you look at her like that again, the little man will have your balls.”
“I don’t know, Mack,” Henderson said seriously. “For her, it just might be worth the sacrifice.” Like a prince gallantly attending to his Sleeping Beauty, he carried Toni to the limousine and gently placed her inside.
McKnight checked his watch as he took a long drag on his smoke, sucking it down until he could feel the burn of it on his fingers. He opened up a new pack and then popped another cigarette into his mouth. “Okay, hurry up and get her dressed. We gotta break outta here and get on the road.”
“So, what I’m hearing,” Henderson said from inside the limousine, “is that you’ve finally topped off your nicotine level so now you’re ready to go.”
“Just about,” McKnight said while walking over to the limousine. He took several quick drags on the fresh cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smashing it out. He folded his large frame into the car and then made his way to the forward seat.
Henderson finished putting high-heeled pumps on Toni’s feet and said, “It’s going to be hard enough to walk these chicks up onto the plane as it is with them both stoned off their asses, let alone this one having to walk in these insanely high heels. What the hell was Ham thinking?”
McKnight chuckled. “Who knows. Maybe they came from his personal collection.” He settled back into his comfortable seat. “But it won’t matter. If anyone happens to be watching, it’ll look like nothing more than a couple of stoned spoiled rich chicks moving their party from the limo to the private jet with their two escort studs. That would be us.”
“Well, I tell you what,” Henderson said as he sat himself between the two barely conscious ladies, “we’ll be lucky if we can get this one on the plane without her breaking an ankle.” He put his arms around them and pulled them in close. Their heads lolled helplessly toward him and rested on his shoulders. “How do I look? Like an international playboy, right?”
McKnight grunted sardonically. “More like a desperate pervert who has to roofie his way into sex.”
“Fuck that,” Henderson said. “My magnetism is the only drug I need.”
McKnight grunted again and then knocked on the window separating them from the front. The driver started the engine. After the door to the warehouse had slowly squealed its way open, the limousine pulled out into the gray afternoon. Neither the man at the door nor the man at the gate acknowledged them as they passed.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Killian found his father’s beloved Barracuda with its front end wrapped around the thick trunk of a resilient oak tree and both doors flung wide open. He made a panicked search around the area, thinking that maybe the women had been jettisoned from the car at impact, and was greatly relieved when he didn’t find them lying on the ground injured, or worse, even though their absence most assuredly meant that they had been abducted by their pursuers.
His first instinct was to hop back into the Demon and drive like hell to try to catch up with whoever it was who had abducted the women. But the problem was that he had no idea where to go. He hadn’t passed anyone on any of the back roads he had taken, which meant that, even if he knew which direction to head in, whoever had RJ and Toni had too much of a head start on him for him to have any hope of catching up to them. His other problem was the Cuda itself. He couldn’t just leave it stranded along the road with its bloodstained interior while he went off searching for RJ and Toni. No, he would have to get it off the road and out of sight and use the time that he was doing so to try to come up with a plan to find them.
After returning to RJ’s garage to swap out his Demon for her tow truck and returning with it to the Cuda, he had to first spend some time watching instructional videos on RJ’s phone to learn how to operate the truck’s towing gear. But because his mind was filled with a flood of disparate thoughts and choices he needed to make, he kept losing his focus on the videos. He couldn’t help thinking that he should stick with his instincts. He should go to the police, confess to his crimes, and let them, the professionals, risk their lives to track down RJ and Toni and their abductors.
But his mind quickly offered counterpoints. If he wanted to go to the police, why was he bothering to tow the Cuda back to the farm? Wasn’t it evidence that would help the police with their case? And as for professionals, wasn’t he a professional as well? Wasn’t he trained to analyze intelligence and track down hostile targets, to capture them, to kill them? Yes, it was true that he was a professional, but he wasn’t just any professional, he was a failed professional, as his last fateful mission attested to. It was one thing to risk his life, an inconsequential life he had recently attempted to end, but it was another thing to risk the life of someone he loves.
Someone he loves? Does he love RJ? Still? It doesn’t matter, he told himself admonishingly. He shouldn’t be risking the life of anyone if he was not mentally and physically capable of handling the extreme requirements of the task.
He forced his mind back from the abstract to the actual task at hand. From watching the instructional videos, Killian knew getting the car up onto the bed of the tow truck was going to be a slow and stressful process; however, all he could do was follow the steps as he had just learned them as well as he could, and then cross his fingers and hope for the best.
After getting the tow line hooked up to a tow loop found under the Cuda’s rear end, he worked the levers behind the cab of the truck that controlled the electric hoist and somehow managed to get the mangled car disengaged from the tree trunk and hoisted up onto the bed. Using a different set of levers, he then leveled the bed. Next, he secured the car in place by wrapping sturdy straps around each of the tires, chaining the straps to the bed, and then winching them tight. He was far from confident that he had done everything that he needed to do, or that those things that he had done were done correctly, but he was pretty sure the car wouldn’t fall off the bed while driving, so it was only with some trepidation that he started up the truck and drove cautiously away from the scarred yet defiant oak tree.
Even as he was maneuvering the truck away from the crash site, he was still completely conflicted about the dilemma he was in: on the one hand, he wanted to get the bloody automobile out of sight as quickly as possible so he could get on the hunt for RJ; while, on the other hand, he could hardly resist the temptation to head straight to the county police station, which was only a couple miles up the road from where the Cuda had wrecked, and turn himself in so he could both be held responsible for all the terrible things he had done, and be absolved of any responsibility for all that was still desperately needed to be done. Yet, even as hard as it was for him to resist the temptation, still he did and began unconsciously steering the truck away from the police station and toward his farm.
This time as he slowed down to cross the one-lane bridge, he noticed the white pickup truck parked on his property along the side of the road. Seeing that the truck was empty, he quickly dismissed it as a hunter’s and made a quick mental note to himself to post some “no hunting” signs in the future.
By th
e time he got the car down off the truck and into the barn, most of the afternoon was gone and dark, heavy clouds had once again consumed the sky. He still hadn’t eaten; he still hadn’t fully rested. Even so, he immediately began cleaning the blood from the car with straight bleach, unconcerned about any damage to the interior it may cause. The only question remaining about his father’s car was not how to salvage it, but how to dispose of it as quickly as possible and in a way that would not leave any evidence against him.
It wasn’t until he had finished bleaching the car that he realized there was now no turning back, that an unconscious decision had been made to not turn himself in to the police. Perhaps he had known all along what his decision would be… had been… but now that he had come this far he felt a certain relief, not necessarily because he was satisfied with the decision he had made, but because at least he had finally made a decision, one that had been weighing heavily upon him since this morning when RJ found him down in the bunker. It was with a resigned sigh that he removed the pair of nitrile gloves he had been wearing to bleach the Cuda. He then dried his sweaty hands off on the back of his pants and donned a fresh pair of latex gloves and began giving the car one final sweep for any remaining incriminating evidence.
He found his laptop wedged tight under the driver’s seat. He had forgotten all about it. It must have fallen off the back seat and onto the floor during the scare with the truck he almost hit last night. He set it on the ground beside the car next to all the other items he had collected, and then walked around to the other side. He found Savage’s phone underneath the passenger’s seat. The sight of it sent flashing images of the failed mission screaming through his mind. He saw the pimp’s severed head hanging onto the neck by only the thinnest layers of meat and skin. He felt the spray of hot blood as it spouted like a fountain as the headless body jerked spasmodically in death. He saw Toni sitting naked and unconscious next to him in the Cuda as he made his frantic escape from the city. He heard RJ’s last desperate screams before the crash.
The Good Kill Page 25