Echoes of a Distant Summer (58 page)

Elizabeth was suffused with a sense of dread. She watched Jackson calmly take aim at his targets and fire off measured shots. She wondered for perhaps the thousandth time whether she had misjudged him. She looked down at the revolver she had chosen, but the pleasure that she usually derived from shooting seemed to have evaporated. She leaned over the partition which separated the shooting stalls and demanded, “Have you changed your mind about leaving your grandfather’s business?”

Jackson put down his gun and looked at her. There was a trace of exasperation on his face when he responded, “No! Just because I have access to the organization doesn’t mean that I’m hatching assassination plots and organizing hits. I’m using it to find out about my enemies. Nothing more!”

“You’re not planning to pick up where your grandfather left off?”

“I thought I made it clear that this is not my war. I don’t expect to pick up a gun or organize resistance unless I am attacked. Right now I’m engaged in collecting intelligence. That’s it.”

“What was the purpose of entering Uncle Elroy’s apartment?”

“Just to ensure there was no foul play, that he hadn’t been attacked or kidnapped.”

Elizabeth studied Jackson for a moment. “If he was, would you be willing to take retaliatory action?”

“That’s a hard question. If he has been taken, it would certainly narrow my range of options.”

“What does that mean? Would you try to get the assistance of law enforcement?”

“If there was a probability of arrest and prosecution of all involved; otherwise the law couldn’t provide protection for my family or me from these criminals and you know it!”

There was something awry in his words, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Tell me again why all this sudden interest in Elroy. Why would you trust him with critical information? You don’t even know who he is!”

“Oh, I know who he is. I know who he
really
is. I don’t want him to get killed because he hasn’t been brought up to speed on the situation. Plus, I didn’t give him anything that wasn’t his. My grandfather left directions that if I wanted to bring Elroy into the family, I should give him that file.”

“Are things that serious that they would kill him? He’s never been a Tremain!”

“He’s always been a Tremain!” Jackson corrected. “The reason he was raised in an orphanage in the first place was because the DuMonts kidnapped him and his mother when he was an infant. But I cannot answer for what these people will do until I meet with them. Nonetheless, for your information, I still plan on following the strategy I outlined earlier: giving up my grandfather’s estate if that will permanently end all hostilities.” He handed her a set of goggles and adjusted his own. “Can we shoot now?”

Elizabeth was not completely mollified, but there appeared to be nothing further to say. She could not, however, simply turn away. She pointed to Jackson’s target and asked, “What are those red dots for?”

“Just to give me something extra to aim at; twenty-five yards is really not that challenging,” he replied, sighting down the barrel.

“Oh, really? You’re a marksman, are you?” Elizabeth asked as she watched him nod his head. This new information did nothing to allay
her concerns. She steadied herself, but she had an ominous feeling that things were slipping away. She said without enthusiasm, “I used to be a pretty good shot myself but that was in another life.”

Jackson was intent on loading a magazine with bullets. He did not see her expression or notice her tone. He pointed back to the target. “You’re a good shot, huh? Let’s create a circle of bullet holes around the outside edge of the bull’s-eye, on the line that separates it from the next, larger concentric circle. The most evenly spaced shots win.”

Elizabeth was surprised. “Are you serious? You shoot that well?”

“I used to. During the summers in Mexico, I used to practice shooting nearly every day, and during the school year my grandfather used to have a man pick me up once a month to go shooting. I don’t think I’ve lost too much.” He began firing from a standing position. After he had emptied both guns one after another, he took out a scope and a tripod from the equipment bag and set it up. He sighted the scope on the target and smiled broadly. “Take a look for yourself. Hell, this a stationary target at twenty-five yards with no time pressures. It’s just a matter of getting used to the guns. I should be able to shoot bull’s-eyes with either hand.”

“You are good!” Elizabeth said, looking into the scope. “Very good. Where did you get this matched pair of pistols?” She indicated the ivory-handled Colts he was reloading.

There was pride in Jackson’s voice when he said, “These were my grandfather’s Colt National Gold Cup Series 70 forty-five-caliber pistols. He swore by them. He said he used the same basic 1911 frame in World War One. He had a gunsmith retool these for even greater accuracy.” He fell silent, intent on laying out more ammunition. He quickly reloaded spent magazines and inserted them into his pistols. His concentration on his pistols was unbroken. He never stopped and looked at her before he stood and took several practice shots. He had pistols in both hands as he fired on the target. He stopped to check the result through the scope. When he commenced firing again he took measured, relaxed shots, letting the sights of the pistols fall upon his target as he brought his arms down.

The blush was gone from the rose for Elizabeth. The warmth and joy of the last few days had somehow dissipated in the last half hour. She no longer felt optimistic. Nor was she pleased by Jackson’s inability or unwillingness to recognize how their recent exchange had affected her.
She was searching her mind for a way to broach the subject without letting her growing disappointment wash over everything.

Jackson was staring through his scope when he began to speak to her. “After I’ve had a little more practice, my accuracy will improve.” He looked up and gave her a quick smile. “Why don’t you fire off a few rounds?”

She had no reason why she shouldn’t shoot, so she picked up the revolver and began firing methodically at the target. They finished out the shooting period and were standing behind the safety line when Jackson was hailed by Dan Strong and Lincoln Shue. The two men were walking toward the pistol range down the path from the registration office. Jackson beckoned in response and awaited their arrival.

“Goddamn, you’re alive! Thank God for that!” boomed Dan. “We were beginning to think the worst! Where the hell have you been?”

“We’ve all been trying to reach you,” Lincoln added. “Pres tried to get ahold of you just last night. He wanted to stay with you, but he ended up staying in a motel.”

Dan put his big slab of a hand around Jackson’s shoulder and gave him a bear hug. There was a look of concern on his face when he asked, “Where have you been, Jax? You had us worried to death!”

Lincoln also gave Jackson a hug. “Man, it’s good to see you! Good to see you in good health!”

Jackson was a little surprised with the fervor of his friends’ words and affection. He asked, “What’s all this? I mean, I’m happy to see you guys, but—”

“Then you haven’t heard?” Dan asked. “All the shit that’s been going on?”

“What shit?” Jackson inquired.

Lincoln ignored his question and asked Elizabeth, “What’s your relationship in all of this?” His tone was polite, but his manner was all business.

Jackson interjected quickly, “What’s that about? This is Elizabeth Carlson. You met her at Justin’s!”

Lincoln nodded to Elizabeth. “We still have to know whether we can talk candidly.”

“She’s with me. Say what you have to say.”

Lincoln grimaced then said, “Wesley has been murdered.”

“Wesley’s dead?” Jackson was flabbergasted. He sat back on the table
where the gun cases lay. He felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. “How? Why?”

Lincoln answered, “He was knifed in the back and then his throat was cut. We read about it in the newspaper. His body was found the Saturday after you left in a Dumpster in Emeryville.”

“In a Dumpster? Damn!” Jackson exclaimed as he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” Lincoln said without inflection as he took a long-barreled Ruger revolver out of its case. “Dan and I went down to the morgue with his mother and arranged to have his body taken to the funeral home.”

Dan declared with an angry glint in his eyes, “I never want that particular job again! Old Mrs. Hunter tried to be strong, but when she saw his body she broke down. We had to carry her out. It was terrible. It made me want to fuck somebody up.”

Jackson couldn’t contain himself. “Do the police know who did it?”

“No. They asked us if he was involved in drug dealing. But we think we know,” Lincoln answered as he finished loading his revolver. “Because that’s not all that’s happened.”

“There’s more?” Jackson exclaimed. “What else?”

Dan said, “Two men tried to abduct Pres outside KFRE the same day Wesley’s body was found. The trainees from his program stopped them and called the police.”

An expression of shocked concern flashed across Jackson’s face. He questioned, “Was Pres hurt?”

Lincoln answered, “He was smacked pretty good with the butt of a pistol. The side of his face was bruised and swollen for a couple of days, but he’s all right.”

Jackson scowled and asked, “Who were the guys who jumped Pres?”

Dan said, “After Pres filed charges against them, the police told him that the men were small-time Mafiosi.”

Jackson looked at Elizabeth and asked, “Are these guys in jail?”

“Not hardly.” Lincoln chuckled humorlessly. “They made bail the very next day.”

Dan added, “No shit! Last night when Pres stopped by your house he saved Rhasan from being killed by one of the same guys who had attacked him outside KFRE.”

Jackson’s jaw dropped. “What? Rhasan? Is he all right?”

Dan replied, “They chipped a tooth and gave him some lumps, but
other than that he’s all right. They were going to kill him, but the gun misfired.”

Jackson was incredulous. “Why? He’s a kid!”

“They were trying to find you. Other than that, all we really know is they carry guns and they mean business,” Lincoln answered. “We’ve had to take precautions to protect our families. Dan has half the Samoan population guarding his house. I’ve got my wife and kids staying at her mother’s. Tell us what’s going on!”

For a brief moment, Jackson felt the old hatred for his grandfather settle in his throat, but the feeling was quickly whisked away by the realization that his grandfather was murdered by these same people. When he began to speak he felt only an icy anger. “I wish I knew! I had no idea these bastards would attack my friends and family. Believe me, if I thought this was a possibility I would’ve contacted you as soon as I returned.” He turned and looked at Elizabeth and said, “They must’ve been following me long before I realized.”

Elizabeth returned his gaze and shook her head sadly. Her premonitions had been right. The conflict was heating up and Jackson was going to be pulled into it whether he liked it or not.

Dan put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “You can see why we began to worry about you.” He dropped his voice. “When I received that coded message from you to meet here today, I was so relieved.”

Jackson sighed and stared down at the ground. He questioned, “Why would they kill Wesley? Why would they attempt to kill Rhasan? What have they to do with my grandfather? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It may not make sense, but this shit is scary to those of us who have families and children,” Lincoln said with a grimace.

“I’ll bet!” Jackson acknowledged. “Damn! I’m so sorry that this crap has come down on you. Understand, I had no idea things would develop this quickly. I thought they would contact me and present me with some demands before taking action. I just wish I understood the logic behind their attacking my friends. What’s the connection? Why would they come after you guys? How can you help them?”

Elizabeth ventured, “Ransom. They probably feel they will be operating from a position of strength if they have a hostage you care about.”

There was a snarl on Jackson’s face when he replied, “They could not have struck deeper into my heart!”

Dan nodded and asked Jackson, “Will you go to the police about this?”

“I have nothing to tell them! I’m not even sure who all these people are. Nor do I have evidence as to who was involved in these crimes. And if I had something to tell the police, do you think that would make these people change their minds about attacking you, or sending more people after me? You said that Pres filed charges against his attackers; did that stop that same asshole who attacked him from being at my house?”

Dan conceded, “No, it didn’t, but this seems to have escalated awfully fast.” Then he gave Jackson a long and steady look and asked, “Have you killed someone, Jax?”

Jackson looked down at the ground then answered, “I killed the men in Mexico who murdered my grandfather.”

The range master’s amplified voice squawked, “Cease firing, secure your weapons, and step behind the yellow safety line!”

“My God,” Lincoln exclaimed. “Your grandfather was murdered?”

A scowl flashed across Jackson’s face then disappeared. “It was an assassination squad. They were after both of us.”

Lincoln raised his hand. “Man, I’m so sorry. We were so caught up in our own stuff that we didn’t even ask about him!”

“That’s why I didn’t contact you. I thought they might follow me to your homes and I didn’t want to endanger you. If I had known what they were going to do, I wouldn’t have delayed.”

“We know that,” Lincoln affirmed. “We know who you love. Right now, we just want to know what you know.”

Jackson said through gritted teeth, “I promise that I’ll share what information I possess and do everything I can to ensure your families are safe.”

Dan asked, “You think you can get the thugs to back off? Can you tell them we’re noncombatants?”

There was an angry glint in Jackson’s eye when he said, “These assholes haven’t even contacted me and it doesn’t seem to me they’re interested in talking much. Despite that, I’ll initiate a dialogue as soon as possible.”