Hauck quietly loaded a round into the hunting rifle, his right arm barely cooperating. He knew the moment he jumped out from behind the bales he’d be a dead man. He slid on his belly over to the loading hook, its point resting in a bale just a few feet away. The thought came to him that maybe he could ride it down and surprise Robertson. Hauck knew he’d get just one shot. But blood was matting through his shirt and it was more likely he’d end up on the ground in pain than hit his mark. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could even hold on.
“So what do you say, Mr. Hauck? I’m the one doing all the talking.” Hauck heard the action on Robertson’s rifle pulled back. “You’re leaving me no choice.”
The Alpha man stepped back and took out a lighter and lit the fuse rag stuffed inside the bottle, which sprang up in flame. He held it above his head it while the rag burned down. “Last chance … I’m afraid, things are going to get a little thick under the collar now … Only thing I can say is, you shouldn’t have brought these to the fight if you didn’t want to see them used … So buckle up now. How about we all yell at once, ‘Fire …!’”
Robertson hurled it against the wood pallet supporting the bales of hay.
There was a whoosh. The oil in the broken bottle exploded in flame. A flash of yellow and orange lit up against the hay. Smoke immediately started to rise.
Hauck could make it back to the window and jump, like Robertson had said. It was maybe twenty feet. The remaining Alpha man was out there. Hauck would have only one shot—if he could even hold on to the rifle in the fall. He’d be a sitting duck.
Below, flames shot up. Dark smoke quickly began to rise. As well as the temperature. Hauck’s shoulder hung limp like meat on a rack. He had no idea what had happened inside the house, if Watkins was dead or alive. He just heard the crackle of flames and felt the heat against his skin. He knew he had to get out of there. Smoke was already seeping into his lungs. He’d have this one chance.
“Think I’ll just step back a bit and watch the show, if that’s okay …?” Robertson called out, pulling back the action on his M-16.
Suddenly Hauck heard the siren. The same emergency call he had heard the other day. Watkins! So he was still kicking. The barn was engulfed in flames now. Robertson stood back against the tractor, his gun readied, waiting for Hauck to show himself. Which had to be soon. Hauck grabbed the Remington with his good arm and took hold of the loading hook. He drew it back as far as he could, positioning himself with his back against the barn wall and his feet against the row of hay bales third from the top. Then he let the hook go. It swung as if on a pendulum right across the barn, hitting the top of the tractor with a resounding clang.
Robertson spun toward the sound with his gun raised.
Hauck pushed with everything he had against the bales. In a minute or two the entire barn would be a fireball. Straining, his shoulder in agony, the row of bales began to give way. It dislodged the ones above it like a house wall about to collapse, the whole thing suddenly caving in as Robertson looked up, seeing it all just a second too late, the heavy bales tumbling down on him like boulders in an avalanche.
Hauck leaped down.
Robertson fired at him, a wild spurt from under the rubble as he tried to extricate himself. Hauck dug his gun through the bales, trying to locate Robertson’s body. The hunting rifle would only give him this one shot. Robertson kicked a bale off him and Hauck fired. The Alpha man yelped, the bullet seeming to graze him on the side, not the direct hit Hauck needed. Hauck drew the rifle back and frantically went to load another round into the chamber, while Robertson tried desperately to kick himself free. Robertson’s gun snaked through the bales and Hauck realized it would take too long to load and fire again, his other arm a mess, so he tossed the Remington aside, diving where Robertson was trying to break through, and grabbed on to the shaft of the M-16 and tried to wrench it away.
His shoulder felt like a molten hot rod was being stuck in it.
He seized the stock and swung it hard into Robertson’s jaw. The Alpha man grunted and fell back, his mouth filling with blood. The fire had reached the roof now. Outside, the signal continued to wail.
They wrestled for control of the gun, Hauck realizing he couldn’t hold on much longer. A burning bale of hay fell off the wall and came to rest close by. Robertson squeezed his leg around Hauck, trying to wrestle him off. Hauck felt himself start to slide. He knew if Robertson managed to get on top and got the gun free, it was over for him.
With everything he had, he forced the rifle over Robertson’s head, both of them straining to hold on to it with both hands. The Alpha man grunted as his arm brushed the hay bale that had tumbled down that was caught on fire.
Robertson strained to pull the gun back toward him, but Hauck kept pushing it farther away, closer to the burning bale.
Hauck knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. The Alpha man tried to head-butt him, seeing what he was attempting to do. With a final thrust, all he had left, Hauck jerked the rifle upward, pinning Robertson’s arm against the flaming bale. The Alpha man screamed, the smell of seared flesh immediately noticeable.
He let go.
That’s when the other Alpha man who’d been stationed outside ran in, hearing Robertson’s distress. Hauck wrestled the gun out of Robertson’s singed arm and rolled off him.
“Take him out. Shoot him,” Robertson shouted at this team member.
The man hesitated. He was around fifteen yards away and Hauck and Robertson were pretty much entangled. If he fired he could hit either of them. Flames were darting in all directions; smoke was filling the barn. The guy pointed the gun and said to Robertson, “Get away from him. Let him go!”
Hauck kicked Robertson free and squeezed. A burst of four rounds shot out and the Alpha man fell back, his stomach dotted in red. Robertson dove toward Hauck and made a desperate lunge for the gun. Hauck swung and struck him in the head with the shoulder stock and Robertson slumped back, bloodied in the face. His arm almost dead, Hauck scrambled up to his feet. He pointed the muzzle of the gun at Robertson, who just lay there, breathing heavily. “So who’s steak now, asshole.”
Robertson held on to his burnt arm. “Fuck you.”
Just take him out, Hauck said to himself. What you promised Watkins and Dani you were here to do. The miserable shit had locked Dani in a tank of rising water. If this situation was reversed, he wouldn’t hesitate a nanosecond to do the same to you.
“Go on,” Robertson said, his contempt fading into a look of final resignation. “It’s what you came back for, isn’t it? For me. So go on. Do it, dude. If you have it in you.”
Hauck stepped up and placed the muzzle of the gun squarely over the Alpha man’s chest. One burst and it was what he deserved. What else was there to do? Turn him over to Riddick? RMM would have him out by dawn. Then who’d be next? Him? Dani?
The man was right. It was what you came back here for …
The Alpha man lay there smirking. “Not so easy, is it? Just to kill someone. Goes against everything you have inside, right, detective?”
Hauck pressed his boot on Robertson’s throat and dug the muzzle into the his cheek. “You’re wrong.” His finger tensed the trigger. “Doesn’t faze me one bit.”
He was about to squeeze when he heard a shout come from outside the barn. “Hauck!”
It came from the direction of the house. Hauck recognized it as McKay. He slowly took his foot off Robertson’s chest and stepped back, the gun still trained on him.
McKay said, “Something out here you ought to see …”
“Don’t listen!” Watkins’s voice rang out from the same location. “Just do what you have to do.”
“Count of five …” McKay called back. “Then I fill his head full of holes. And we come after you.”
“Do it, Hauck,” Watkins yelled again. “That’s the sonovabitch who killed Trey. That’s why we’re here.”
“Seems you missed your chance, huh, old buddy …?” Robertson cackled, sizing up the situat
ion.
“One more word, it’ll be your last,” Hauck said, jamming the muzzle into the Alpha man’s forehead.
“Okay, okay …”
Hauck looked out through the flames outside and saw McKay holding Watkins by his collar, a rifle to the back of his head. The siren was blaring. The fire had reached the roof of the barn. It was starting to split apart. They had to get out of here.
“Three seconds …” McKay came back. “I’ll blow his head apart like an eggshell. And I don’t bluff.”
“Get up,” Hauck said, kicking Robertson over.
Watkins hollered from outside. “Don’t!”
“Get up,” Hauck said again. “Give me the slightest reason, and this is where it ends for you.”
With a grin, Robertson slowly pushed himself up to his feet, his arm smelling of burnt flesh.
Hauck prodded him in the back with the muzzle. “Now move.”
They stepped out of the burning barn. McKay was behind the combine, holding Watkins. He smiled, in the way a desperate killer might smile who had brought all the pieces of his plan together. Hauck pushed Robertson forward until they were about ten yards away, the gun tip dug into his back.
“You’re either one foolish man or a very unlucky one,” the Alpha boss said smiling. “Violence always seems to follow you.”
Hauck met his gaze. “I was thinking similar thoughts about you.”
“So here we are.”
“Seems like a standoff,” Hauck said. “So how do you want to play it?”
“Oh, no standoff.” McKay shook his head. His look of satisfaction and control sent an uncomfortable feeling down Hauck’s spine. McKay motioned with his chin for Hauck to look around.
Behind him, one of the men Hauck thought was down came from around the barn.
“No standoff at all.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
“How badly do you want to lose your man here?” Hauck said, the rifle pressed into Robertson’s back, glancing at the other man circling behind him, his own gun trained on Hauck.
McKay dug his M-16 into the base of the farmer’s skull and shrugged. “How bad do you want to lose yours?”
The numbers didn’t quite add up. It all seemed pretty foolish now, coming back, but Hauck was long past any regrets. He’d been to the edge before. Nowhere to go. And he knew sometimes you just had to play it out. People often faltered. Lacked the will. Though it seemed McKay had been here, too.
Hauck smiled at him. “So is this what they meant in the brochure by ‘environmental challenges’ …? Using the word broadly, of course.”
McKay chuckled. “No, I admit, this one’s a bit beyond the mission statement. But we do whatever the job calls for. So here we are.”
The siren continued to sound.
Watkins gave him an imploring look. “Hauck, I told you, do what you came here to do. I can’t live with it, the other way.”
“Shut up, old man,” said McKay, swatting him on the back of the head with the gun butt. “I know you a bit,” he said to Hauck. “Maybe more than you think. We both believe in the things we do. I know that one of them for you is what seems like doing the right thing; otherwise you wouldn’t even be here. And for us, it’s getting the right things done, and so these wells, the energy independence they bring, it’s what we believe, at all costs.
“But you also don’t believe in people dying when they don’t have to. Otherwise you would have blown John here’s head off back in the barn. Any more than you can let this ol’ farmer of yours die here needlessly, too. He’s already lost enough, don’t you agree? Am I right on all that …?”
The man behind Hauck stepped around at a bad angle looking for a clear shot, and Hauck kept dragging Robertson by the collar, so he would stay somewhat shielded. “Don’t make yourself into something fancy, McKay. You’re basically just hired killers. But you’ve got the floor …”
“You know what we want. Drop the gun. We’ll let ol’ Chuck here go and go about with his life. Back to his family. You heard what I offered before. He’s already got what he wanted.”
“Don’t listen to him, Mr. Hauck. That’s not what I want at all.” Watkins tried to flail at McKay and the Alpha man kicked his legs out from under him, sending him to the ground.
“But you know what the one difference is between us, Mr. Hauck.” The Alpha boss shrugged with a slight smile. “It’s that in our world, people are dying all the time …”
“There’s one more”—Hauck jammed the muzzle into Robertson’s back—“difference. I also believe people have to pay. And as you hear, I don’t think my friend Watkins here would be so happy with me if I just handed him over to you. Would you, Chuck?”
Watkins shook his head. “No.”
“And of course there’s one more thing …” Hauck raised the barrel of the gun to Robertson’s head.
McKay said, “What’s that?”
Hauck looked across at him. “The girl.”
“The girl …”
“She has to live.”
“You’re right, the girl …” McKay nodded, but his eyes lost their amusement. “That does complicate things a bit.”
Behind Hauck, flames rose into the sky; the barn was about to break apart. The fire flew up in waves with a bellowing whoosh. Hauck felt the heat press against his skin. The siren continued to wail.
“People are gonna hear that. They’re going to be coming here,” he said to McKay. “Let him go. He’s already lost enough. It’s me you want anyway.”
“Do what we’re here to do,” Watkins seethed, trying to wrangle out of McKay’s grasp.
“We both know what this is about now. And it’s not the water. Not anymore. Let him go.”
“Well, you’re right about that.” McKay dug the tip of the muzzle into the back of Watkins’s skull. “So I’m giving you to the count of five … Then things start. We see where they fall.”
Hauck looked at Watkins, the farmer’s worried but steady look saying that somehow this was okay. This was right. Kill the sonovabitch who killed his son. Hauck shifted with Robertson. He decided the better odds were to shield himself with him from McKay and go for the Alpha man behind him first.
Suddenly he heard a rumble. His gaze shot toward the road. Three or four cars were coming up it toward the farm. Maybe neighbors, seeing the flames. Or Watkins’s friends, the ones who had left, hearing the siren.
“Take a look,” Hauck said. “It’s over, McKay. What are you going to do, shoot him in front of everyone? Maybe kill them, too, to cover it all up? And then me? Robertson? The guy behind me? We’re all gonna die for this?”
The vehicles stopped about a hundred yards from the house. A few people stepped out. Hauck saw Milt and Don. And Watkins’s farmhands came back from the fields.
“It’s over,” Hauck said again. “No way to keep this quiet now. Put the gun down.”
The Alpha man looked at the people arriving at the scene. “Oh, it ain’t over …” He shook his head, gritting his jaw. Beams and planks collapsed into the fireball. Three of his men were lying dead somewhere in the fields and the barn.
“Get out of here,” the Alpha man hissed, giving Watkins a kick with his boot. “You just hit the jackpot, Chuck. Get lost.”
Watkins looked at Hauck and wouldn’t leave him behind. “No.”
“Get going, I said. And you do one thing to interfere, everything we talked about goes away. For all of them. You hear …? So get along. Now!”
“Go.” Hauck nodded. “Warn Dani.” He was about to say, call the Aspen police, but then he stopped himself as not to give it away.
“Count of three …” McKay tensed on the trigger. “You want to die so bad, old man, stick around. But I don’t see how that helps the rest of you in any way. So get everyone out of here now.”
The farmer looked at Hauck with futility in his eyes and pulled his arms away. He started to walk toward the cars, looked back at Hauck again, then picked up his pace into a labored trot. Ahead, people were gathered
, watching, waiting. It looked like his friend Milt had come back for him. And Don. Everyone just stood there watching.
“So what’re you going to do now, McKay?” Hauck grabbed Robertson by the collar and jerked him backward. He tried to keep the Alpha man who was circling behind him in his line of sight. His arm felt useless. It took everything he had just to keep the gun level now. He felt his legs weakening, too. Blood came down his side.
“Look at you, soldier,” McKay said laughing. “I think it’s over for you.” He stepped away from the cover of the hay bales, narrowing the distance between them. The other Alpha man crept in closer behind Hauck. “You want to start shooting, shoot. Truth is, though, I really don’t see any way you get out of here alive.”
Hauck heard a crash and the barn imploded in flame. With a blast of heat, beams and planks and burning embers collapsed onto themselves with a freight-train-like roar.
Startled, Hauck turned, his strength ebbing. McKay seemed to nod, and the Alpha man behind Hauck closed in. Hauck backed away, grabbing on to Robertson, but Robertson managed to wrap his foot behind Hauck’s leg and spun him backward, Hauck stumbling.
There was a tussle for the gun, but Hauck had no strength left to fight him. It fell out of his hands. He stood there, barely able to keep himself up, staring at Robertson, whose smirk had a lot more life in it now.
“Shoulda done it while you had the chance …” Robertson said, grinning. “My turn now.”
The rifle stock came up, clubbing Hauck on the side of the head, his legs buckling and darkness rushing in.
“That’s what you fucking get for messing around in my mailbox, asshole,” was all Hauck heard before he blacked out.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Hauck blinked his eyes open. He had no idea how much time had passed. The vehicle he was riding in drove through a chain link fence gate, which closed behind him. He struggled to get a sense of where he was. The car continued up the darkened road, then swung around. He saw a hut, two large round tanker trucks, lights canting into the car from a tall trestle. His head throbbed, and as he went to rub it, he found that his hands were bound in front. Across from him, Robertson was at the wheel, across from him. Hauck pushed himself up and heard a click in his ears from behind. The muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his head.
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