by David Nees
Joey thought about going back into town. They didn’t need supplies. It hadn’t been that long but he needed a diversion. Even that motor mouth at the gas station would be a relief from the silence. He had mentioned it to Frank who nixed the idea. Frank didn’t want anyone in town thinking about them.
“How long we got to stay out here? This is driving me crazy.”
Frank gave Joey a long, disdainful look. Joey didn’t care.
“We stay here until I say it’s time to go back.”
“So when is that, since you’re calling the shots.”
“It’s when I say it is. You got a problem with that?” Frank stared straight at Joey, challenging him.
Joey looked away. “Nah. But it’d be nice to have some idea how long we’re gonna be stuck here. This ain’t much fun, even you gotta agree with that.”
“We get a call from Vincent, we go back. That’s how it works.”
Joey changed the subject. “You think Dan found out where we’re hiding out?” He wondered if Dan was out there, waiting. Frank never went outside during the day, so Joey followed his example, but it made the waiting all the more confining. Frank only left the lodge after dark and then he kept to the shadows of the building. Could Dan have tracked them this far? The thought had been growing and made Joey uneasy. He took note of the fact that Frank spent considerable time carefully watching from the front windows—carefully—searching the area around the house. Why would he be doing that?
Frank shrugged. “No, how could Dan know?”
Fred, the clerk from the store in Charlemont, was talking to Dennis the day after Joey and Frank came through.
“I met someone going to the lodge just off 8A, the one owned by that guy in New York.” Dennis gave him a confused look. “You know the one where the tree busted in the roof. I helped you fix it.”
“Oh, yeah. What about it?”
“Well these two guys were going there, city guys. Weren’t too polite, but I guess that’s the way it is in the city.”
“The lodge open? I didn’t open it up.”
“They said it was, but who knows?”
“Maybe I ought to go up there and see if they need any help.”
“I wouldn’t. The guy I talked to didn’t want any company. Acted like they wanted to be alone.”
“Still, don’t want them blowing the place up.”
Joey was still concerned about whether or not Dan could have found out where they had gone. “Well, someone could have let the word out on the street. It could have been picked up by Tommy. That fucker would tell Dan right away. He claims he can’t reach him, but I don’t believe it.”
“Why would anyone do that, let slip where you are?”
“Why do you keep peeking through the windows? You take your binoculars, pull back the curtains for a moment, and study the woods outside. And I don’t see you walking around out there. We’ve been out of this lodge only at night. And that’s just to walk around in the shadows. You know something I don’t know?”
“Just trying to be careful.”
“I think you figure Dan’s out there, playing sniper again.”
“He don’t play at it. He’s pretty good at it.”
“So you don’t take any chances.”
Frank didn’t answer but took his binoculars out to scan the woods on the ridge to the north and west of the lodge. The sun had come out.
After a minute, Joey spoke, “So you see anything, with all that looking?”
Frank didn’t answer. He closed the curtain and stepped back from the window. He had caught a glint of something on the ridge to the northwest of the house. Was it a reflection from the glass of a scope trained on the lodge? If Dan were up there, that would make it easy. He just had to get Joey to go outside, hang around the front porch. Dan would take him out and Frank would exit out the back with the AK47 to intercept him on the ridge.
“Looks clear to me.”
Joey looked at him for moment. He noticed that Frank had moved himself a bit further back from the window, but kept looking at it, as if trying to see through the curtains. He had never made a comment before. Frank had spent long periods checking the area with his binoculars, but never pronounced it clear.
Something didn’t feel right to Joey. He’d always trusted his instincts. They were well honed from the streets. Now they told him something was up.
“Go ahead and take a walk while the sun’s out, since you’re complaining about being stuck inside. It looks all clear,” Frank repeated.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.” Joey grabbed his .45 and stuffed it in his waistband. If this was a set up, he had one advantage—he knew about it. There was a stack of wood on the porch. He would duck behind it for cover.
Joey opened the front door and stepped out. He pretended to stretch for one full second, and then dropped to the floor, and scrambled around the wood. He heard the shot just as he dropped. The bullet smashed into the stack of wood above Joey. Before another round could be fired, he was behind its protection.
“You son of a bitch!” Joey yelled out. He shattered a window next to him with his .45 and fired at Frank inside. “You set me up, mother fucker! I’ll kill you!”
Frank bolted from the room. In the hallway, he grabbed his AK47 and a couple of clips, ran out the back door, and sprinted for the cover of the woods.
Dan cursed as his shot went over Joey’s head. Joey must have known he was targeted and had presented himself for a second to draw the shot. Gutsy. Now Joey seemed to be shooting at Frank inside. A moment later he saw Frank dash out back and head for the cover of the woods. Dan got a shot off but missed. Now Joey was back in the house, having gone through the broken window.
As Frank disappeared into the cover of the trees, Joey grabbed his gear and the car keys. He ran to the back door to see what was going on. If Frank had gone into the woods to kill Dan, Joey may have been wrong about him. It didn’t matter though. Joey was leaving. Fuck him. He set me up.
The shot had come from the northwest side, from up on the ridge. The car was partially shielded, parked on the east side of the house. Thankfully the gravel drive had led them to that side, where a larger parking area had been laid out. If he could get into the car, he could turn it around and race out of there. Let Frank take care of Dan. Who gives a shit? Joey sprinted across the gravel to the car.
Frank looked back when he heard the car start. From the cover of the woods he watched as Joey spun the car around and accelerated out of the yard. Anger surged up inside him. That little punk. Now how would he get back to New York? And would Dan leave now and nothing would be accomplished? He cursed himself for using Joey as bait. Shoulda just killed him myself.
After a moment he put Joey aside; he’d deal with that little fuck later and he’d make it painful. This time he’d really die in his own grave; there’d be no fake run-through. But right now he had to deal with Dan.
Frank turned to orient himself. He knew Dan was to his right, west and north of him, on higher ground. He was protected from Dan in his current position, but he needed to close the distance so he could bring the AK’s superior fire power into play. Dan’s sniper rifle was a long range weapon. Frank couldn’t match it with his iron sights. But if he could close the distance, he’d have the advantage.
Frank started up the slope. He wasn’t dressed for the woods. He was wearing street shoes with smooth soles, a tan jacket, and black slacks that didn’t blend well into the foliage. He felt out of place and sensed he stood out.
As he climbed, Frank worked to calm his rage over Joey’s leaving. Rage wouldn’t help against a trained sniper. Frank knew he had to be cool and methodical. Once he killed Dan, he would find a way out of the place; there were lots of ways to make that happen. He assumed Dan had a car somewhere, if he could find it. Or maybe there was a car or truck in the barn that he could hot wire. If the cops came around, he’d have to wait in the woods until they left, but, in the end, he’d get back to the city and take care of Joey. That an
ger settled solidly into his gut, fueling him and leaving his mind clear to finish the fight in front of him.
Climbing the slope was not easy in his street shoes. Part of the way up the hill, he slipped on a rock outcropping, falling forward, smashing his knee against the granite. Cursing under his breath, Frank rolled over and clutched his knee. His pants were torn and, along with the bruising, he was bleeding from a gash across his knee cap. He lay there for several minutes before he could get up and test his leg. He could walk, gingerly, but the knee was going to swell, making it more difficult to move. Dark thoughts about how the day might end flickered in his head. He suppressed them. Not imagining things was an old habit with Frank. It helped to compartmentalize what he did, the killing, the injuring, the intimidation. It was just what he did, what he was good at. It was always better not to ruminate on those things or how dangerous situations would work out. Just focus on making them work out.
Chapter 52
Dan saw Joey drive away. He had no clear shot and didn’t want to further expose his position with a wasted round. He turned back to the woods, watching. Frank had disappeared into the trees at the rear of the lodge. Dan assumed he was coming. As Frank moved up the slope, he would have to expose himself. He would be coming up to his right and he had to have some idea of where Dan was, so Dan would have to keep him guessing. He moved back from his sniping hide and headed to his right to find a new spot to wait as Frank came up the slope. Settled into his new position, he slowed his breathing, calmed his heart rate. He needed to be cool, calm, and precise. Frank might be out of his element in the woods, but he was no fool; he was a killer.
Patience wins out. He repeated the mantra over and over as he lay in a prone position, his upper body and rifle stuck out from behind the trunk of a tree. He scanned down the slope, back and forth, not looking for specific figure, just movement. Movement gives one away. Prey freezes when they think they’re spotted, hoping the predator will not focus on them and move on. Now Dan remained still and watched. Dan also knew Frank was not dressed to blend into the forest. That would be another disadvantage which would work in his favor with his ghillie suit. Long minutes passed. The dappled sunlight that filtered through the trees, shifted and moved with the breeze.
Suddenly the silence was shattered by a burst of automatic gunfire. Clods of dirt erupted in front of him, flying towards his face, showering him and his rifle. Dan shrank back and squirmed backwards along the ground, keeping the tree between himself and the direction of fire. What happened? Something had given his position away. He heard twigs snap as the shooter rushed forward, firing in short, rapid bursts.
Can’t let him get near me!
Dan frantically crawled backwards as fast as he could go. He couldn’t defend against the AK’s rate of fire and needed get to a defensible position before Frank got to the top of the ridge. He slid into a drainage depression which ran at ninety degrees to his backwards path. Immediately, he scrambled along it to his right, on his belly, bruising his elbows and knees on the rocks that protruded up from the soil, while keeping his rifle protected, cradled in his arms. The undergrowth tore at his face, but he pushed through frantically, trying to put some lateral distance between him and the approaching Frank.
The shallow gully was only a couple of feet deep and ran slightly downhill. Dan didn’t relish giving up the high ground but he had to retreat from the automatic rifle. His bolt action sniper rifle was no match for it in a close-quarters shootout. He stopped at the base of a large oak tree. It was three feet across and gave him excellent cover. He crawled out of the ditch and around to one side. He needed to get a clear shot when Frank reached the top of the slope. Dan was in the shadows, but as the breeze flowed through the forest, the leaves moved and a burst of sunlight broke out, hitting his rifle like a spotlight. Dan lowered his rifle until the light passed.
That’s how he spotted me. The sun reflected off the scope lens.
There was another short burst of automatic fire from Frank. But he was blindly shooting forward to where Dan had been, hoping to keep him pinned down.
I’m going to get one shot. I’ll lose if this becomes a close-in firefight.
Dan took a deep breath. Should he just run away? He had a moment yet to decide. Frank hadn’t reached the ridge top. He could probably move through the forest faster than Frank, yet the thought of being chased with the AK firing at him every time Frank caught a glimpse of him didn’t appeal to Dan.
Let’s finish this. With that decision his resolve grew and steadied him. He was not where Frank expected to find him. He had recovered the advantage of surprise.
Frank reached the tree where Dan had been hiding. He stopped and peered ahead, looking for him retreating. Seeing nothing, he began to scan to both sides. He stepped behind the tree just as Dan fired. The shot hit the AK, shattering the stock and sending it spinning out of Frank’s hands. Frank dropped to the ground behind the tree. Suddenly he reached around the tree and fired several rounds with his .45 semi-automatic in the direction of Dan’s shot.
Dan slid back into the shallow ditch and crawled back up the depression. Frank would be to his right and forward, now farther up the slope. He stopped at a thick bush to scan the area but saw nothing. He began to crawl again. He worked as quietly as he could, but crawling was not as silent as walking. Changing positions would keep Frank off guard. Although Dan didn’t want to close the distance between him and Frank, he wanted to get to higher ground so Frank would not be shooting down on him. Frank’s elevated position could take away his cover in the depression.
Part of the way back up the ditch, he stopped and risked a glance through some brush. Immediately two shots rang out. One hit a boulder sticking out of the ground. The chipped stone smacked into him, just above his eye. He reached up and fired a shot in Frank’s general direction, and then cursed himself quietly for resorting to such amateur tactics. Take a shot when you can see your target. It was something hunters learn and snipers abide by. Blood from the gash in his forehead ran into his eye, blinding him.
Dan quickly wiped his eye with his sleeve, smearing the blood over his face. No time for a bandage. Have to work around it. He lay still and listened. Frank was about fifty yards away. From the sound of the shots, Dan figured Frank had a .45. At this distance, it was not going to be all that accurate unless he was an exceptional shot. Gonna bet your life on that? Dan knew the answer to his question.
He backed up in the ditch until he reached another large tree, this one on the slope of the depression away from Frank’s position. He rolled up and around the tree as a bullet slammed into the trunk. How many was that? Counting would help, but only if Frank had one magazine. He crawled backwards away from the ditch and Frank’s position, keeping the tree between the two of them. When he put some extra distance between them, he took off running in a crouch back up the slope, across Frank’s field of fire. Two more shots rang out, but he was a difficult target with his ghillie suit, moving quickly with the trees and brush between the two of them.
When he thought he was out of sight, he dropped to the ground and crawled forward another twenty yards, stopping behind a boulder. Dan slid his rifle forward and looked through the scope. The range was now about sixty yards, not a hard shot, if he got a clear sight line. He wiped his face again with his left arm to clear his vision and waited. His scope would not reflect the sun from this new angle. All he needed now was to have Frank get antsy and come forward. He was beyond the point where Frank saw him last. He hoped that Frank would not realize how far he had moved to his right, and would think Dan was positioned more to his front.
Dan’s adrenalin flow slowed and his breathing grew calm. The realization hit him. This was what he was good at, what he enjoyed. It was a deadly game of hide and seek, cat and mouse. In the army he had never made this connection; neither in training nor in combat. It was his job, a deadly one to be sure, but what he had trained to do and what he needed to do to protect the other guys in the field. Now stripped of othe
r reasons, it was just him and his opponent in a deadly duel and only one of them was coming out alive. He wiped his forehead again as the blood kept dripping into his eye. He pushed the extraneous thoughts out of his mind. He could ponder this new revelation later. Now he had to kill someone.
Chapter 53
Frank’s left hand was swelling and going numb even as he reached around the tree and fired two rounds from his .45. Then he stopped, realizing that he had only one magazine in the pistol. Cursing under his breath, he realized his advantage was now gone. The AK47 was lying on the ground about ten yards from him. The front stock was shattered. Would it still fire? It gave him such an advantage, he had to retrieve it. Dan still had his sniper rifle and probably a pistol. Frank studied the rifle and planned out his move. He would run, grab it, and roll forward. That would be quickest, but the trees were less substantial in that direction. But stopping to pick up the rifle and turning back to where he started would expose him for far too long. He couldn’t give Dan that extra time. He was too good a shot.
Frank slowly got to his feet, back against the large oak tree. He pocketed his .45, took a deep breath and, ignoring the pain in his knee, lunged out towards the fallen rifle. In five strides, he bent down, grabbed the rifle and dove for the cover of some smaller oaks. A shot rang out. Frank felt a searing pain tear across his left thigh and twisted as he hit the ground behind the cover of the trees. The shot had torn through his left leg, gouging a channel out of the back of his thigh, damaging his hamstring. He grimaced in pain. This had to be dealt with right away. Taking a folding knife out of his pocket he reached down, cut open his pants, and examined the wound. Blood was flowing, but not pumping; an artery hadn’t been hit. Still, it was serious; along with a bruised right knee he now had a damaged left leg.