Rules of Honour (23 page)

‘Two weeks, but you could still identify them?’

‘OK, we can’t be positive until the cops get through with all their tests, but, yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s Nicolas and his mother. The fact that Nicolas was carrying his driving licence in his wallet helped me identify
his
remains.’

‘You called the cops?’

‘No. I didn’t think that would be a good idea. I’d have had a problem explaining to them why I was looking for Nicolas, and it would have come back on you guys down the line somewhere. I’ve left them as I found them. They’ve been out there for a couple weeks already, another few days won’t make that much of a difference.’

‘You think it was our guy that killed them?’

‘I discovered that Nick Peterson wasn’t the most law-abiding guy going. He had a rap sheet for various offences the length of my arm: small-time stuff really, theft, assault, but he was also a known drug dealer. There’s always the chance that he upset one of his clients or suppliers, but I don’t think so. Reading the scene, the main target was his mom, and Nicolas tried to protect her.’

‘Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all,’ I said cynically.

‘The way it looked to me was someone turned up at their house but was allowed inside without any fuss. The front door was undamaged, so was the living room. I noticed that the door to Michaela’s room had been kicked open, and I’m guessing that Nicolas had taken refuge in the room and tried to keep the killer out. He was shot in the gut and the killer had grabbed his mom and thrown her down on the bed. He shot her point-blank, Hunter, three times, and must have been straddling her at the time. I think Nicolas must have tried to drag the killer off his mom and was shot again, this time through the chest. The way it looked was as if the killer was holding him up close at the time, put the gun to him and blasted him to death. It was kind of personal, up close stuff, if you ask me.’

‘And the likelihood is that he knew his victims, huh? You said he was allowed inside the house and the fight didn’t start until the killer approached the bedroom. If Nicolas had a criminal record he was likely as suspicious and paranoid as every other small-time crook we’ve ever met.’

‘That’s what I was thinking. There are no guarantees, of course. The killer could have come in disguise, maybe posing as an official, and, gained access that way.’

‘Yeah, but what are the chances, Harve?’

‘Slim. I’m only playing devil’s advocate.’

‘So what else have you been considering?’

‘Heading out your way. Trouble is I’m still tied up with this damn job for the next couple days.’

‘You’ve done your bit for us, we both appreciate it.’

‘Good. You shouldn’t complain when you get my bill for a new pair of shoes.’ Harvey laughed to himself. ‘Seriously though, I wish I was there with you guys. There’s little excitement here in Little Rock now that Petoskey’s no longer around.’

I grunted out a laugh of my own. I killed Sigmund Petoskey a few months ago, kicked him out of a helicopter piloted by Harvey after the bastard kidnapped and tortured Rink. Petoskey was only a small cog in a plot to find and murder my brother John, but he’d got everything he deserved.

‘You don’t think discovering a couple of murdered people rates as exciting?’

‘The smell kind of dampens my enthusiasm.’

I knew what he meant. I’ve been around corpses for most of my adult life, but you never get used to the stench of human decomposition. Maybe it’s an inherent trait, an instinct programmed at birth, that we all find it abhorrent. It’s a reminder of our mortality and that we all end up as fertiliser at the end of our lives.

‘I’m at a loss here, Harve. I was full sure that Nicolas was our man, but now I’m back to square one.’

‘Not exactly. We still know that everything goes back to what Rink’s dad and his friends did to Charles Peterson. Either someone who was there is involved or someone has learned what happened and wasn’t happy about what they discovered. My guess is that’s the reason why Michaela was targeted. She knew that Charles was snatched out of the trailer, but she didn’t report it to the cops.’

‘She didn’t?’ The news took me by surprise. I’d automatically accepted that she had reported Peterson’s disappearance and that the police had discovered his remains. Yukiko had never made it clear either way: I’d gone and bloody
assumed
it again.

‘There was never a police report made. As far as I can tell, Peterson’s still buried out there in that cellar because Michaela chose to keep quiet about him going missing. Reading between the lines, she was best shot of him, and maybe she decided the same thing. The way my mind’s working is that the killer found out about that and went to show her how mad that made him. Nicolas, I’m guessing, was just unlucky to be home when the guy showed up at their door.’

‘So what else are you thinking, Harve? It’s obvious you’ve come up with another theory . . .’

‘I got to thinking that the killer must have an individual stake in all this. He’s either being paid by someone who has, or he has a very personal reason for killing everyone involved in Charles’s death. He’d have to be a
very good
friend of Charles to do this, or he has to be family. I don’t see why any other person would go to these extremes otherwise.’

‘Any friends of Charles Peterson would be old by now, the guy I saw running from Takumi’s house was only in his forties. I’m guessing it has to be the latter. It might also explain why he managed to get inside Michaela’s house without any problem. C’mon, Harve, what aren’t you telling me?’

Harvey chuckled. ‘Michaela Douchard was Charles Peterson’s third wife. Both previous relationships were reputedly childless, but that wasn’t so. Charles’s second wife was carrying his baby when he ran off to shack up with Michaela. It was a boy, Hunter. Born after the divorce came through, and named after his mother. His name is Markus Colby.’

The revelation came like a punch to my gut. It had to be him.

‘Where is he now, Harve?’

‘We’ve a slight problem there, Hunter. I’ve been unable to trace him beyond his high-school years. Markus Colby has dropped off the face of the earth, the way his dad did all those years ago.’

‘Maybe you’ve been looking for records under the wrong name. By the sound of things, the killer hasn’t accepted that his father deserved what happened to him. It’s not unusual for a kid to sanctify an absent father, and form some sort of fantasy image of him. Maybe that’s what set off this rampage: he discovered his dad was a piece of shit and has rebelled against it. Maybe that’s why he has to kill everyone involved; not out of vengeance, but to protect the image he has built of Charles in his own mind. Go back and look again, Harve. But, this time, look for him under his dad’s surname. Look for Markus Peterson.’

Chapter 27

The sun had gone down, yet there were no lights on in either Parnell’s or Faulks’s apartments. Both of them must have heard of the others’ slayings by now and realised they were next, so it was unsurprising that the remaining two men had gone into hiding. It was a problem that he hadn’t thought through well enough, and couldn’t see how he would be able to trace them now. San Francisco was a huge city with many places where they could hide, God forbid that they had fled the city itself. It was a blip in his plan for ending the lives of all those involved in his father’s murder, but only that. They would not stay away for ever, and would have to return to their homes soon enough. He’d already been in both apartments earlier and found that all their belongings seemed intact; maybe they’d hurriedly packed an overnight bag but that would have been all. Their clothing was still hung in wardrobes, their shoes and underwear, toiletries and even medication all remained. He hoped that one or the other of them would attempt to sneak back under the cover of darkness to fetch more of their belongings and at that time he could follow them back to wherever it was they were hiding.

He had parked his car in a dead-end street, near to a book depository now closed for the day. He had spun the car first, parking nose out so that he could keep an eye out on the street. Initially he decided he would give it an hour or two, and if neither man showed, then he’d reassess the situation – maybe go after the old Jap bitch instead.

He thought of how he’d missed his opportunity to finish the lying whore the first time, but he was certain that when he struck her with his gun barrel he’d heard her skull crack like an eggshell. He should have put a bullet or two into her to make sure, but at the time he was more intent on punishing her husband. His mistakes were not those a professional assassin would make, but he didn’t consider himself anything other than a son paying back the murderers of his father. He was allowed to make a mistake or two. Like he had with Takumi; he should have shot the cripple and had done, but thankfully everything had worked out there. He had heard the news that the old man had perished en route to the hospital, so in the end he was happy with the result.

Pity his actions a short time later hadn’t finished as well. After firing at the stranger he was certain that the man had been killed, but he had heard nothing about any fatalities from the multi-vehicle pile-up he’d caused. The stranger was still out there somewhere and he had no idea who he was – or how dangerous. That was a little worrying, he had to admit, but it was nothing that would deter him from his task. Markus Colby owed entire commitment to avenging his father.

He had only caught a series of brief glances of the stranger, first as he’d run from the burning house, then later as he’d played cat and mouse with him through the city streets. But he had fixed the man’s description in his mind. He was certain that neither of the two who had pulled their car into a parking slot opposite Hayes Tower was the guy who’d dragged Takumi from the fire. His first concern was that they were cops, and he thought about leaving the scene, but when neither of them climbed out of their vehicle, but sat watching the tower block, he concluded that they were there for a different reason than law enforcement. Maybe the stranger had survived the crash, but he had been injured, and these men were his replacements. Had these newcomers arrived with the purpose of watching for his arrival, with the intention of taking him out? Or had they come at Parnell’s or Faulks’s behest and were they checking things out prior to going inside to fetch their belongings? Markus decided he’d wait and see.

The men in the vehicle were tough guys. They had the kind of faces that had been on the end of more than one whupping, lumpy with scar tissue and their noses flattened, and one of them had cauliflower ears. They had thick necks and broad shoulders. One of them gripped the steering wheel with hands that looked capable of strangling a steer. Markus was familiar with their type, but wasn’t afraid. He knew that tough guys were nothing when held under the threat of a silenced pistol. He guessed that they were muscle brought in as protection, but they wouldn’t stop him. They were the ones in need of protection from him.

He watched for another quarter-hour. Civilians wandered the street, heading uptown, or making for the shortcut along the far side of Hayes Tower to get to the social housing scheme round back. Markus ignored them all, watching the two tough guys as they in turn watched the tower block. Occasionally one or the other would glance his way, but he was invisible to them behind the tint of his windscreen. Markus thought that if these men were here on Parnell’s or Faulks’s behalf, then he could sit it out, wait until they drove away and follow them back to their base. He fully expected that he’d find one or other of his quarries there.

It was a full twenty minutes later before one of them got out and went to the back of their car. The one inside popped the trunk and the other leaned inside. Markus couldn’t make out what happened next, but when the guy straightened up he was holding something inside his coat, gripping the item tightly with his elbow. He nodded to the other who joined him on the road. The first passed something over and it was hidden beneath the second man’s jacket. Both men then glanced at the uppermost floor. Markus followed their gaze, but from his angle couldn’t determine what had caught their attention. The tough guys jogged towards Hayes Tower.

Markus slipped out of his car.

The two men disappeared inside the tower block, heading in by the communal entrance, the glass doors swinging lazily in their wake.

Markus didn’t immediately follow; he angled across the street for a better position and looked up at Parnell’s room. Immediately he recognised a difference from his visit earlier. Then the curtains had been closed tightly, but now they had been opened a hand’s span. Someone must have gained access to the apartment, most likely approaching over the waste ground and sneaking into the building via a secondary entrance at the rear. Markus smiled to himself. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Then he paused.

If the big guys were protection brought in by one of the old men, why had they been out here at the front and not accompanying him, as Markus would expect? Why – when noticing movement inside the apartment – had they collected their weapons from the trunk and gone inside? He couldn’t imagine a reason, but he’d swear that the thugs had an opposite agenda to what he’d first credited them with. They weren’t here to protect the old guys, but to hurt them. Scowling, he headed for the entrance door. He wanted to see Parnell and Faulks dead, but not by someone else’s hand: where was the vengeance in that?

He slipped in through the glass doors, easing them shut behind him, and stepped into a dim foyer. In his jacket pocket was his silenced gun. He placed his hand on the butt though he did not draw it. There was always the chance that another of the tenants might meet him and the last thing he wanted was for them to start hollering about an armed man on the loose in the building. He scanned the foyer, then walked to the base of the access stairs. He listened but there was no indication that the tough guys were making their way up the stairs. He returned to the elevator. The bulb in the direction arrow had blown, so there was no external sign to show that the elevator was on its way up, but he placed the flat of his hand against the metal doors and felt a faint vibration. He could hear the soft thrum of machinery from beyond the doors. Immediately Markus bounded towards the stairs.