The Silversmith (David Wolf Book 2)

by Jeff Carson

  “No, it was fine. Just…other problems.” He held up the phone to Martin, who took it and pushed a few buttons, then eyed the screen. “Construction site? What’s so important about the construction site?”

  Wolf turned to the north and shook his head. “Can you take me to the Silversmith property?”

  “Sure. Now?”

  “Now. And we’ll need rifles.”

  Chapter 32

  Rachette pocketed the phone and looked at the ominous clouds to the south. The dark green curtain of rain flickered within, and then a finger of lightning lunged out of the clouds striking just at the base of the mountain, followed a few seconds later by a deafening crack of thunder.

  If there was one thing Rachette didn’t like, it was lightning. If he’d had his way, they’d have been off this exposed peak the second the helicopter was grounded, which was a good fifteen minutes ago.

  Apparently Vickers finally got the hint, or felt one of his few un-gelled hairs lift, because he was barking through the radio for everyone to get down the mountain and seek shelter.

  Those people that were on the east end of the mountain went east, those on the west, west. Rachette was in between. Vickers was west, so he turned and jogged east.

  “Rachette.” The radio crackled.

  Rachette rolled his eyes and turned with his hands up. “Yeah!”

  Vickers craned his finger.

  Rachette ran to Vickers who waved him past with a whirling hand.

  “Give me the phone.” Vickers voice bounced behind Rachette.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Give it now.”

  Rachette cursed himself, dug in his pocket and pitched the phone back.

  The air flashed bright and the air shook with ear splitting thunder.

  “Jesus! Geez.” Rachette corrected himself in the face of eminent death. “We’ve gotta get down, Sarge.”

  Vickers caught the phone and slowed to a stop, looking at the screen.

  Rachette turned and walked back up the trail to him. “Sir, we’ve gotta get down, now.”

  Vickers took out his own phone and pressed a number. “Sergeant Vickers here. I need someone to triangulate the following cell phone number as soon as possible.” He paused. “Because Wolf just called from that number.”

  He relayed the number, hung up, and flung the phone at Rachette as he ran past and down the trail.

  Rachette caught the phone as a cold drop of rain smacked him on the cheek. The screen was illuminated with an incoming message scrawled across it. He furrowed his brow and looked down the trail. Vickers was out of sight.

  Another bolt of lightening struck close with a boom of thunder.

  Rachette winced as he unlocked the phone, erased the message, pocketed it, and got the hell down the mountain.

  Chapter 33

  Wolf and Martin came out of the trees into a bare, flat patch of forest where the old house stood. It faced north, and the view was immense. The mining operations were in the near distance, three or four miles away, and beyond that the unending waves of mountains.

  The siding of the house had long stripped its paint, leaving the boards a bleached ash color. Every board in the structure was warped, ejecting most of the nails, causing the entire house to lean slightly downhill, and every window was punched out with just a few hanging shards of glass remaining or none at all.

  The air smelled like old bones, and the continuous buzz of insects was deafening.

  Wolf slapped a hand on a hot board on the back of the house, half expecting the structure to tip forward. He walked the perimeter to a vacant window and peeked inside.

  The floors were gray, with warped boards covered with dirt, rocks and twigs. A workbench stood against one wall with two vises affixed. Underneath it was a wad of sticks and grasses, looking like a family of raccoons had built a den. A kitchen counter drooped off the wall, looking like it would fall at the same time the house tipped forward. There was no sink in the counter, and no furniture anywhere.

  “When did they leave?”

  “They left in 1996.” Martin’s voice was muffled on the other side of the house.

  The year Dad died.

  Wolf walked around to the front, wiping a spider web strand off his face.

  The sun went behind the clouds and a low distant rumble shook the air.

  Wolf stopped, remembering his conversation with Dennis. “Bill Chester.”

  Martin came around the house and met him in front. “What?”

  “That’s the guy that bought the house. Do you know who that is? Bill Chester.”

  Martin shook his head.

  Wolf looked up at the dark clouds, seeing a thin strand of lightning over the hill they just came down. “I don’t get it. How do you know they sold it? Were you friends with the Silversmith? Did you talk to him about the sale?”

  Martin tilted his cowboy up. “I was friends with him and his wife. They had a daughter about ten years old. One day I came down here and they were gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. I remember the day. There had been a big storm the night before, and I wanted to see how they were, to talk about it with someone. It was a lot of rain and wind.” He shrugged. “I came here, and they were just gone.”

  Wolf nodded. “And? How did you find out they sold the place?”

  “A week later I asked one of my sources in town about it. She said they had sold the place for a lot of money to a man. Over one million dollars.” He glanced at Wolf, and gave a nod of his head, as if that had cleared everything up.

  A female real estate source in town? Margaret Hitchens, no doubt. “Keep going. You said they sold it to the mine. Like I said, I heard it was a guy named Bill Chester who bought it.”

  Martin narrowed his eyes and held up a finger. “I watched this property for months. There was never a soul who set foot on this property. Not a single person who claimed their prize. I often hunt these woods, just like I did back then. I go all the way to the boundary of the mine. And back then I would make it a point to come here every time, to see if there was something new. One day, I walked from below, up to the house, and that was the first time I heard an angry rumble underneath the ground. And then I knew. They had sold the property to the mine.

  “Over the years, they’ve hollowed out the ground underneath our feet. I’m sure of it. Look over there.” He pointed to the east, about a half-mile down the slope. “See where there is a clearing in the forest? That’s a hole. The forest fell straight into the ground where they were digging underneath.”

  Wolf saw the spot. The ground wasn’t visible, but there was a spot vacant of treetops. “When did that happen?”

  A warm spray of liquid hit Wolf on the right side of his face. He brought his hand up with a flinch, just as he saw Martin crumple forward in a twisting motion. An instant later he heard the rolling boom of a high-powered rifle.

  Wolf lunged forward and caught Martin before he hit the ground and pulled him back. Just then the air ripped near them, and the ground exploded into a spray of dust. The bullet ricocheted into the distance with a loud whine, and then there was another rifle report.

  Wolf turned with Martin under his arm and sprinted to front of the house and around the corner, to the opposite side of where the shots were coming from.

  He set Martin down and looked at his wound. A ragged looking exit wound bled profusely out from underneath the collarbone, and there was a neat entry-wound at the top of his shoulder. Wolf took off his backpack, pulled out a shirt and began applying pressure to the bleeding hole.

  “Martin. Can you hear me?”

  Martin didn’t respond. Wolf checked his pulse, which was weak.

  The boards exploded above him as four consecutive shots rang out.

  The sound delay was just about two seconds. Wolf did a quick calculation. On average, it took sound four seconds to travel one mile, so the shots came from a half-mile away.

  No doubt it was Young.

  Martin was bleeding, but Wol
f had seen worse in the field, and seen those soldiers survive in the end. The bullet looked like it missed arteries, but being so close to the heart, there was no telling the damage that had been done. And the man was old. But Wolf suspected he’d seen few as tough.

  He dug in Martin’s pocket and took out his cell phone. There was no reception.

  Another three shots tore through the boards, and a blast of stinging splinters hit Wolf in the back of his head and neck. He winced and laid down flat.

  The image of Young, running on the trail at full speed with a calm face flashed through Wolf’s mind. It was time to move.

  Chapter 34

  Young stared through the scope with motionless breath.

  He was getting impatient, so he fired another three rounds into the house, trying to miss high.

  His ears rang, and the smell of gunpowder filled his nose. He flexed his shoulder against the butt of the rifle and smiled. He felt alive.

  He couldn’t help himself with the old man. It was just too perfect an opportunity to pass up — a perfect way to instill a little fear into Wolf, to get everyone’s juices pumping a little.

  He estimated twelve to twenty minutes. That was when he’d be finished pulling the life out of David Wolf’s body, and the old guy would be before or after. He didn’t care. He couldn’t tell if his first shot had hit high or just right. Either way, the old guy wasn’t going to be moving far.

  He glanced at his watch and added twenty minutes to the big hand, setting the deadline. It may have well been a prophecy carved in stone and given to him by the hand of God.

  His body vibrated with anticipation.

  And it would have to be close. Hand to hand.

  The side of the house bounced in the scope as he stifled a laugh.

  He’d always been an overachiever, putting unrealistic demands on himself, but they were demands he always met.

  A few seconds later Wolf flew into view, sprinting full speed away from the house.

  He popped one round behind him and watched.

  Wolf ran straight away from the old house, straight for a ridgeline in the distance, and then he did the unexpected. Instead of going over it and out of sight, he turned left and started slogging up the side of it. He kept himself behind cover, sheltered behind the ridge most of the time, save for a glimpse of the top of his head every few feet.

  Young pulled the rifle away and strapped it across his back, keeping a sharp eye on Wolf’s pathetically slow movement up the side of the hill.

  He looked at the hypotenuse leg he’d have to cover to beat Wolf to his destination, then back to Wolf, who was resolute in his dumb tactic.

  Wolf was the first kill. The old guy would be second.

  Young sucked a breath in and took off at full speed.

  Chapter 35

  Wolf’s lungs sucked hard for air as he trundled up the slope. His vision tunneled as his brain groped for oxygen that just wasn’t coming. His leg muscles were slow and unresponsive as he neared the top of the ridgeline, but he dug deep and somehow kept his pace steady.

  Wolf knew Young would have to cover at least double the distance Wolf had, with a steep incline of his own to negotiate. Wolf thought of Young on the trail again, and a shot of adrenaline coursed through his body.

  As he reached the final ten feet of the slope, crawling on his hands and feet, muscles twitching involuntarily, he knew he probably wouldn’t have a second to rest when he got to the top.

  With agonizing strain on every fiber in his body, he reached the top, pulled his Glock, turned left in a squat and scanned for Young.

  The ridge below was heavily treed, sloping down into a saddle, then back up to where the shots had come from. He wheezed loud as he scanned the woods from left to right.

  Just then, a hard blow hit him on the back of the head, toppling him forward. His face hit the ground first, ripping his lip down while pebbles scraped against his teeth. His Glock was wrenched from his hand, and then a huge hand gripped his hair, lifted him up, yanked the rifle off his shoulder, and dropped him.

  Then there was nothing.

  Wolf huffed, coughing dirt, rocks, and needle fragments from his throat, then got on all fours and shook his head. His vision and thoughts cleared at the same time. He jumped to his feet and turned around ready to defend himself.

  Young sat on a rock ten feet away with an amused grin. He looked at his watch, a sporty diver’s watch that looked like a dainty children’s model on his enormous wrist. “Take your time. Catch your breath.”

  Wolf narrowed his eyes, still sucking air inefficiently. He eyed Young and brushed debris from his face and arms.

  Young breathed heavily also, but in a way that didn’t contort his face at all. He was staring at Wolf, studying his every move with a curious glare. Next to him were two rifles propped against a rock with Wolf’s pistol next to them.

  Young had on a skintight black shirt that revealed every nook and cranny of his heavily muscled frame. Wolf estimated him at three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and as he’d proven on two occasions now, it was muscle that was strong enough to move itself with the agility of a cat.

  There was zero percent chance Wolf could best the man in a hand-to-hand fight. He wasn’t being pessimistic — it was just a fact that needed to be taken into account.

  Wolf took off his backpack and threw it down on the ground, eyeing Young’s waist. A SEAL knife housed in a black kydex sheath was strapped to his belt on his right, and it didn’t look like he had a pistol.

  “Oh, you’re looking at this thing?” Young took out the knife, extended his arm, and dropped it ceremoniously next to Wolf’s pistol. Then he looked at his watch again.

  “You late for an appointment?” Wolf moved his right leg a little, feeling the lump of steel in the right front pocket of his Carhartt pants.

  Young smiled and shook his head. “Not yet. I still have a few minutes.”

  Wolf’s entire body flinched backwards as Young stood up, revealing his full, disturbing height.

  Young laughed. “You’re the big man around here, huh? Big Army Ranger.” He smiled, shook his head and widened his eyes. “I can’t wait to get me some Ranger pussy.”

  Wolf took a deep breath and whimpered with a small sniff.

  A flash lit the darkened forest, followed immediately by a deafening thunder, and Wolf cowered, squinting towards the rapidly approaching storm.

  Chapter 36

  Young stopped and tilted his head.

  His face dropped, and his body sank with a disappointment that felt like the blood had been sucked through his feet. Then a rage welled up that he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain, and it made him even more livid. His teeth mashed together so hard he almost cracked a molar.

  This was the man Gary said he needed to watch out for?

  The sniveling wimp was acting like a little girl. This guy wasn’t a former Ranger, or if he had been, it’d screwed him up bad.

  This guy was facing a fight to the death, one that would ultimately determine the honor in which one man would die. And he was worried about lightning? There was no way this man had what it took to become a Ranger. He was a fraud.

  Young took a step forward, watching the coward raise his hands and lower his eyes in a defeated posture. It was one of the most revolting things he’d ever seen. He’d had enough. He would let his rage go on this one.

  “Give a dying man a final request?” The little pussy talked fast.

  Young stopped. Just barely. “What’s that?” He managed with a shaking voice.

  “Let me have the knife?” He held out his hands and looked up with pleading eyes. “You know I don’t have a chance without it.”

  Young stared at him for a few seconds. Then he smiled. Then he chuckled. Then his entire body flooded with endorphins as he shook with laughter until his eyes teared. Or maybe it was the cool rain that was steadily increasing. He opened his mouth to the sky and caught a few drops, then snapped his head down into a toothy grin, his eyes
landing smack-dab on Wolf’s.

  “You almost had me going there.” He pointed his finger. “I don’t care how old, fat, and slow you are, that’s a dumb move on my part.”

  Wolf’s pathetic look didn’t waver. In fact, it got worse, and his breathing increased, like he was having a panic attack or something.

  Young didn’t hesitate. He turned around, picked up the knife, and flipped it to him on a low arc. Wolf caught it with his left hand.

  “Then again, I am that good.” Young blanked his face. “And I very much want this to be interesting.”

  Young didn’t kid himself. He knew the danger he’d just put himself in, giving a knife to a former Ranger. He reached up and stroked the scar underneath his eye with a wide smile. But he’d been in his share of knife fights without a blade, with far more competent opponents. Of course, he wasn’t going to get over-confident. He knew he’d probably just been baited. It would make the victory all the more satisfying.

  Yeah. It was definitely interesting now.

  Young smiled at the audacity of the man in front of him, then checked his watch one last time. One minute left to his personal deadline. Plenty of time.

  He crept forward in a low stance.

  Wolf crouched as well, keeping the knife in his left hand.

  A lefty? But his gun had been on his right hip. He’d have to be wary of a hand switch. Wolf held the blade forward, not even using reverse grip. But that could change in the blink of an eye.

  Wolf was baiting him again and again, keeping Young guessing.

  Young stepped in fast, quickly getting slashed on the back of his wrist, missing a counter attack as Wolf shuffled away, and then behind a tree.

  He hopped back and sucked the blood mixed with rain, then bared his teeth. The adrenaline surged through his veins. Every muscle in his body screamed for the kill.

  “Get some!”

  Wolf came out on the offensive from behind the tree, faking high with a flurry of motion, then came in low with a sweeping upward strike. But Young was ready, bashing both his fists on the forearm with the strength he could muster in such a short reaction, which was more than most bones on any man could handle.