The Mechanic Trilogy: the complete boxset

by Rob Ashman

  ‘Thank you. Now talk me through what happened. Who came to collect the van?’

  ‘It was a man and a woman.’

  ‘And what were they like?’

  ‘He was dark, about six foot, she had short hair. They looked like outdoor types, you know, dressed in camouflage gear. I don’t remember much.’

  ‘How did they pay?’

  ‘Cash. They paid for three weeks’ rental. Asked if they could have a refund if they brought it back early.’

  Moran leaned forward. ‘Did they say where they were going?’

  ‘Yes, they said something about renting a cabin up in Mount Charleston.’

  ‘Did they say where?’

  ‘No. I asked if they were going hunting.’

  ‘What did they say?’

  The man thought for a moment.

  ‘They said, kind of.’

  Mechanic veered off the road onto a dirt track. The wheels rattled in the ruts while the Transit bounced around. The sun disappeared behind the treeline as they drove deeper into the pine forest.

  Half a mile further on she swept right and brought the vehicle to a stop. Jameson jumped out and yanked opened the back doors. Mechanic slid from her seat to join him. He reached inside and dragged something heavy and black towards him. It was a body bag.

  Mechanic dived into the back and came out with an aluminium frame and some poles. She set about assembling them on the ground. In three minutes she had constructed a low gurney on big rubber wheels. Mechanic stood one side of the body bag and Jameson on the other.

  ‘Two, three.’ They lifted it from the van onto the gurney. Mechanic tugged at a telescopic arm that was bolted to the front and slid a four-foot metal tube through the end making a T-shape. Jameson grabbed one end and Mechanic grabbed the other. They pulled the gurney into the woods.

  44

  Harper ran his eyes over the rental paperwork.

  ‘The name says Henderson. They must have had a fake driver’s licence. And look at the date.’ He passed it to Moran.

  ‘Shit, they rented it a week ago.’

  ‘Yes, while we were running around looking for her in San Diego she was here all the time.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s good you intervened,’ Moran said.

  ‘He wasn’t getting the message.’

  ‘Maybe the old ways are sometimes the best.’

  ‘He could see himself being hit with an insurance claim. He was stalling, and I speeded things up, that’s all.’

  ‘No, I mean it was good you intervened because I was about to break his fucking arm.’

  Harper flashed her a look.

  ‘How do we find out where Mechanic’s taken him?’

  ‘I got an idea,’ she replied.

  Moran jumped out of the car and ran back to the rental place. The guy behind the counter tried to duck out of sight when she burst in. Two minutes later Moran was back.

  ‘Okay, there are a couple of camping stores a few miles away. The man said we should be able to find the names of companies who rent out lodges from there. He was much more cooperative.’

  Harper looked at his watch, it was 11.30am. Lucas had been gone almost two hours.

  They drove east to the intersection with Charleston Boulevard. A few miles further on was a parade of shops set back from the road. Located in the middle was Camping and Climbing World.

  ‘No guns this time,’ Moran said as they walked across the parking lot to the store. The large plate-glass doors hissed open as they approached. It was huge, with what looked like a tented city in the centre surrounded by mountains of equipment. There was every conceivable piece of equipment from sleeping bags to stoves, to fold-up tables and chairs. Around the walls hung the climbing gear.

  Moran stopped one of the sales assistants, a woman dressed to survive a week in the forest.

  ‘Excuse me, I wonder if you would be able to help us? We have a couple of friends who have rented a lodge somewhere on Mount Charleston. Unfortunately, they have had a bereavement in the family and we are desperately trying to get hold of them.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that,’ said the woman.

  ‘The problem is we have no idea where they are and have no contact details. Do you have a list of companies who rent out lodges? We could contact them to find out where they are.’

  ‘We don’t keep a list, but I’m sure we could help. Follow me.’

  The woman clomped across the store in her hiking boots and disappeared into a back room. After a few minutes she emerged with a stack of magazines.

  ‘This is the best I can do. These are camping journals which advertise sites and lodges on Mount Charleston, it’s a good place to start.’ She handed them over.

  ‘Thank you so much. We are really stuck, do you think we could use your phone? We will pay for any calls we make.’

  ‘Oh, well …’

  ‘Please, it is an emergency,’ Moran said.

  ‘Sure, you can use our admin office.’ The woman showed them into a small room crammed full of ledgers and invoices. There was a phone in the corner and one chair.

  ‘Thank you,’ Moran said. The woman left them to it.

  ‘Nice work,’ said Harper.

  They flicked through the magazines. The pages at the back contained the advertisements, and they started to compile a list.

  Moran made the first call. She used the same cover story.

  ‘Hello, I’m trying to trace some friends who may have rented a lodge from you on Mount Charleston. They’ve had a sudden death in the family and we’re trying to trace them. Their name is Henderson.’

  A rustling of paper later and the woman on the other end said, ‘No, I’m sorry we don’t have anyone by that name on our books.’

  She rang a second company, with the same result.

  Harper glanced at his watch. Lucas had been gone three hours.

  ‘Maybe they booked the lodge under a different name. That is, if they booked a damn lodge at all,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe, but it’s all we have to go on at the moment. What’s the next one?’

  Moran dialled another number and went through the same routine.

  Harper was striking ads through with a pen. Some companies only did camping holidays, while others offered outdoor experiences and group activities.

  He stopped.

  The pen hovered above one of the ads. He dropped his chin onto his chest and let out a long sigh. Moran was in full flow describing how they had to contact their friends urgently. He leaned over, took the receiver from her hand and disconnected the call.

  ‘What did you do that for?’

  He handed her a magazine with the pages folded over.

  ‘It will be this one,’ he said pointing to the ad.

  She furrowed her brow and looked at Harper.

  ‘Mechanic wants us to find her. This is all part of the game.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been so busy rushing around I couldn’t see what was right in front of us.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s back up a little. Mechanic could have easily killed Lucas. But she didn’t, instead she chose to take him while we were on the roof. She then proceeds to make a series of rooky mistakes. She parks her vehicle in full view of the surveillance camera with the name of the rental company all over the back of the van. She tells the rental guy where she intends to go and leaves the paperwork for us to find with the name Henderson on it.’

  ‘Shit. Why would she do that?’

  ‘Not sure. But Mechanic is the best at what she does, she would never be that careless. If she wanted to take Lucas and disappear into thin air, she would have. If she wanted us dead, we would be. She loves nothing better than to play games. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Tracking her was way too easy. She’s already given us the name of the damn company where she rented the lodge.’

  Moran looked at the ad.

  The first line read, He
nderson Camping Lodge and RV Rentals.

  ‘Henderson,’ Moran said.

  ‘Mechanic wants us to find her.’

  ‘No, she wants you to find her. She doesn’t know I exist.’

  Moran picked up the phone and dialled.

  45

  Moran and Harper were flying along US 95towards Mount Charleston, thirty-five miles northwest of Vegas. They hung a left on to Kyle Canyon Road looking for the highest elevation in Clark County at almost twelve thousand feet. In the distance they could see the snow-capped summit of their destination.

  The mountain loomed large as they sped past the intersection with the 158. Two miles further on they turned left to Cathedral Rock. Mount Charleston and the surrounding area had one hundred and sixty campsites and about the same number of vacation lodges. Thanks to her conversation with the man at Henderson Camping Lodge and RV Rentals, they had narrowed the search down to one, and Moran was looking for a dirt track off to the right.

  The man had told her that Mr and Mrs Henderson had rented a log cabin for two weeks and were in their second week. He remembered the booking because Mrs Henderson was insistent that the place had to be in a remote location.

  ‘They wanted to get as far away from civilisation as possible,’ he recalled them saying more than once. He was surprised when they went ahead with the booking, even after he had explained that the place had no electricity.

  Moran found the turning, heaved the car away from the main road and drove onto the gravel track. Within two hundred yards they were engulfed in a forest of white birch, ponderosa pine and juniper. It was a sharp incline and the wheels bounced and spun in the ruts as she nursed the vehicle across the rugged terrain. The man had said the log cabin was located at the base of a cliff half a mile off the main drag.

  Moran pulled onto the grass verge and rolled the car under the cover of the trees. She came to a stop behind a clump of bushes and killed the engine. They got out and retrieved their kit from the back. The air was crisp and, apart from the birds and the treetops swaying in the breeze, it was silent. Harper checked his gun and pushed it into his belt. Moran locked the car and placed the key on top of the wheel on the driver’s side. She drew her weapon from her bag.

  ‘We go the rest of the way on foot,’ she said.

  Harper nodded.

  They kept off the dirt track and moved under the cover of the treeline. The woodland floor was a combination of grass and shale with patches of soft soil. The place smelled pine fresh. They edged their way forward. About four hundred yards ahead they could see a clearing carved out of the woods and the outline of a building. Harper held his fist in the air and they both stopped. He took out his field gasses.

  Through the lens he could see a log cabin with a tall pitched roof and four large windows running down one side. The roof was stained green and the walls had the classic corrugated look of cut logs. Wisps of white smoke drifted from a chimney. They crept along for another hundred yards, stopped, and made out a front porch running around the whole width of the property with an extended decking area over to the right. The Transit was parked up at the side. Wicker chairs were ideally placed to take in the spectacular view of the valley with a cold beer.

  They pressed on.

  At fifty yards out from the lodge Moran stopped and fished out her binoculars. She was scanning across the building, focusing on the windows for any sign of life. Mechanic strolled out onto the veranda. She was dressed in the same clothes they had seen earlier. She looked around and sat in one of the wicker chairs.

  ‘It’s her,’ Moran whispered.

  ‘I see her. Is she armed?’

  Moran shook her head. ‘Not that I can see. No sign of Jameson.’

  They edged closer and stopped. This time they both held binoculars. Mechanic was lounging in the chair.

  ‘What the hell’s she doing?’ Harper asked.

  ‘I’d say she was waiting. Waiting for you.’

  ‘Damn well looks that way to me too.’

  ‘No sign of Lucas or Jameson.’

  ‘Jameson could be in the cabin or the van.’

  ‘Where do you think she’s holding Lucas?’

  ‘No idea, he could be anywhere.’

  They moved forward but this time skirted to the right, taking them deeper into the undergrowth. They settled behind a thicket.

  ‘We could wait till nightfall,’ Harper whispered.

  Moran checked her watch. It was four o’clock, another three hours till dusk. Lucas had been gone six and a half hours.

  ‘But we need to strike, we don’t know what condition Lucas is in.’

  ‘Let’s wait and get eyes-on for longer. If she is expecting us, it will be a trap.’

  They crouched beneath the trees and bushes and watched. The time ticked by. Mechanic sat in her chair and did nothing.

  After thirty minutes Harper said, ‘I say we go. I’ll circle around the treeline to the back of the house. From there I got about fifteen yards of open ground to cover before I reach Mechanic. When I break cover you hold your position, and when Mechanic turns to confront me, that’s when you make your move. Remember, we need her alive.’

  ‘Got it.’

  Harper set off and inched his way around the perimeter, keeping well under cover. Mechanic continued to sit in her chair, taking in the view.

  He reached the back of the clearing and took out his field glasses. Mechanic was twenty yards away with her back to him. He placed the binoculars on the ground, gripped his gun and crept forward.

  There was one almighty whoosh.

  Harper was catapulted into the air, cocooned in a cargo net. He was swinging upside down, crashing against the tree that had just propelled him skywards.

  Moran heard the violent rustle of leaves being swept through the air. Her view was obscured but she heard Harper yell out.

  Mechanic leapt from her seat and picked up a baseball bat that was propped up against the side of the house. She leapt over the balustrade and strode across the clearing, twirling the bat like a cheerleader. Moran could hear the sound of laughter.

  What the hell was happening?

  Moran was paralysed.

  Harper was flailing about trying to right himself. The net had him jack-knifed with his head on his knees as he bounced amongst the pine trees. He fought against the net but it was no use. His gun was gone.

  He saw Mechanic emerge from beneath the branches, bat in hand.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet,’ she laughed. ‘You are so predictable, straight out of the Korean War handbook.’

  ‘I’m gonna fucking kill you,’ he yelled.

  Mechanic stood next to him. Harper’s facial features were forced through the netting, he snarled at her. He was hanging five feet off the ground like a trawled fish. She grabbed the net and spun it around.

  ‘I laid a trail of crumbs and you followed them, like the good detective you are. You made excellent time, though I suppose I did make it so easy a kid could work it out,’ she said laughing.

  ‘I’m gonna—’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  Mechanic stepped back and swung the bat.

  Lucas was aware of the sound of his own breathing. He felt as if he was floating, gently bobbing around in still water. He was groggy and his head hurt. His mouth was dry. He could taste acid at the back of his throat.

  He tried to open his eyes but they would not respond. The fog in his brain made everything woozy. He slipped back into unconsciousness.

  He came back to the surface again and flicked open his eyelids. It was black. The world swam back and forth as Lucas began to orientate himself and realised he was lying on his back.

  He tried to focus but all he saw was darkness. He raised his hands to his face and felt a thick ridge running down his left cheek. It stung like hell. He raised his leg, and his knee struck a hard surface. A dull thud echoed around him. He reached out in front and his fingers touched something cold. It was flat and metal.

  His mind was clearin
g fast.

  He remembered seeing Mechanic get out of the van. He remembered the black backpack slung across her shoulder. He remembered a noise coming from behind. Then nothing.

  A knot of fear rose in his chest.

  He held his hands out in the darkness and pushed his palms flat against the surface above him, it was cool to the touch. Lucas slid his hands across the metal and felt two corners, one on either side. He tried again to move his legs but they struck against the metal.

  His eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark and he realised there was a small cone of light above his head. He dug his heels into the base and shuffled his way towards the light. When he was directly under it, he could see blue. His brain struggled to compute all the sensory information he was gathering. He stared at the circle above his face. How the hell could he see blue?

  Lucas dropped his hands to his sides and felt around. His fingers touched a collection of small hard objects along with soft material. He brought his hand to his face.

  Panic gripped him.

  He could smell soil.

  He jerked around, smashing his knees and elbows into the metal with dull echoing thuds.

  Lucas screamed until his lungs burned.

  He was buried alive.

  46

  The back of Harper’s head felt like someone was going at it with a steam hammer. He was sitting on the floor with his hands by his sides and his legs straight out in front of him. When the thudding in his head subsided he could hear birds and felt a cool breeze brush across his face. He was outside. He kept his eyes shut.

  Mechanic clomped around the wooden decking in her hiking boots. Harper could feel the boards shift beneath him as she walked by. The footsteps faded away. He opened his eyes to see her disappear into the lodge.

  Harper looked around. His hands were cuffed to a thick leather belt fastened around his waist and his ankles were shackled to a metal ring set in the floor. He was leaning against the balustrade at the back of the extended decking area. He could see the wicker chairs to his right and the dark treeline to his left. He searched beneath the trees hoping to find Moran. She wasn’t there. How long had he been out?