Slash and Burn (26 page)

When Rourke’s shout came she made her move, fleeing along the balcony to the far end. Just round the corner of the building steps led down to the lower level, where there was a second raised porch surrounded by a low railing. She moved down the stairs, watching behind her in case Rourke came charging after her. At the bottom she dropped to a crouch, using the stairs as cover while she surveyed the land to her left. She could see outbuildings. Beyond them was a huge tin shed. She could smell something unpleasant.

In her bare feet she felt vulnerable. More than the fact that her blouse was ripped, revealing a large expanse of her chest, her bare feet made her feel exposed. It was one thing walking on a sandy beach, feeling the sand between your toes, quite another if you had to run over stony ground. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She quickly slid over the railing, dropping the couple of feet to the floor. She paused, listening for the pursuit that was sure to come. Distantly she heard Rourke’s voice raised in anger. Then the thump of feet as people began to respond.

Kate headed for the sheds, jogging gingerly to avoid lacerating her feet, but still coming down on sharp-edged rocks. By the time she reached the first outbuilding she’d already bruised her soles, but at least she wasn’t bleeding. Block the pain, she told herself. It’s nothing. Keep going.

A bullet struck the wall of the shed, barely missing her. Kate cringed, but turned, lifting her gun. Rourke was on the upper balcony, aiming at her again. He pulled the trigger and the gun barked. Kate jerked to one side. Her return shot made Rourke lunge backwards but otherwise did him no harm.

‘She’s out here!’ he yelled. ‘She’s heading for the sheds.’

Kate ran. It was her only chance. Put distance between her and her pursuers. She charged along the side of the building, avoiding a third shot from Rourke. Then at the corner she had to throw herself bodily over a wooden fence. She landed heavily on her back, dust rising all around her. Dazed, she peered back the way she’d come. She saw a knot of men boil out of the front of the house. They were indistinct beyond the billow of dust, but she could tell they were rushing her way.

Coming to her feet, she unloaded three rounds at the group. The gun bucked in her hand, more recoil than she was used to and she knew her aim had been too high. It scattered the group, but none of them went down. Ideally she should control her breathing, hold steady, shoot the bastards as they came at her. Instinct made her turn and run again. Guns popped behind her and she felt the tug of one projectile as it skimmed the air next to her left ear. She was passing the open door of the shed. Hulking machinery clustered in the shadows within. She considered putting the machines between her and the men chasing her, but she knew that would only give her momentary respite. They’d simply storm the shed, their greater firepower overwhelming her in seconds.

‘Stop running, Kate.’ She recognised the voice. Even raised in command, it held a humorous edge.

‘Go to hell, Huffman!’

She continued to run.

A second fence barred her way, but she vaulted this one a tad more gracefully than the first. She landed sure-footed, but something sharp jabbed into her sole and this time there was no avoiding the split in her flesh. She grimaced, but kept running.

Another shed presented itself. Beyond it were animal pens and the big tin building. Kate swung to her left, rushing along the front of the building, hidden for the time being from those following. She saw the hulk of an abandoned truck, an old Chevrolet that had been left to rot under the Texan sun. Chickens had colonised the cab at some point. No way that the vehicle was an escape route, but she ducked behind it. Watched and saw movement at the corner of the building. She fired, then glanced over her shoulder. She had to keep moving otherwise the men would split up and some would come at her from behind, bottling her in.

Again she fired at the men at the front of the building, then as they slunk back behind cover she ran and caught the ledge of a window in the shed wall. She pulled herself up and inside the shed within seconds. Instantly her senses were overwhelmed by the stench of scorched metal and aviation fuel. In the darkness she could make out what looked to be parts of an aircraft and two mangled vehicles. They looked like they’d been hidden here very recently as there was still fluid dripping from the wreckage of the helicopter.

She didn’t stop to ponder what had caused this devastation, except to conclude that Joe had made an attempt at getting her away after all. The thought gave her comfort. But it was cold comfort at best. Where the hell was he now when she could do with the back-up?

The doors at the front of the shed were shut, so she followed a similar route to the one she’d used to get inside the building. She found a window at the far side. This one was closed. Security wasn’t at a maximum though, just a catch that she had to flip open, then she was clambering out into a space full of mud and cow shit. Her feet plunged ankle deep into the filth. She slipped and went down on one knee. Then it was a struggle to gain her footing without giving up her gun. Determined, she pushed through the muck, angling away from the front end of the building where Huffman and the others would inevitably head to.

From within the building she skirted came metallic noises, as if machinery was in motion. A gun cracked behind her and struck the wall of the shed. She thought that the gunman had aimed deliberately high: they wanted to take her alive. That gave her an advantage over her pursuers. She turned, seeking targets, and fired. She hit a man and he went down on his back. She hoped it was Huffman but couldn’t be sure because all the men were dressed alike.

Words dashed her hopes.

‘This is your last chance, Kate,’ Huffman shouted. ‘Stop running now or I’ll kill you.’

Kate merely ran, went over another fence and then spun round the corner of the big shed.

And ran pell-mell into another figure emerging from a door.

They rebounded, and Kate went down on her back.

Blinking up at the person standing over her, she braced herself for a bullet. But the shot didn’t come.

It wasn’t one of Huffman’s men, but a small dark woman. She was dressed in a blazer and jeans and a white blouse.

She looked like a cop.

Then the reality struck Kate. The woman’s white blouse was spattered with blood. So were her hands. She couldn’t know it, but Ruth Wicker had been tasked with the job of getting rid of Desmond Molloy and she’d jumped at the opportunity. Wicker was more of a sadist than most of Huffman’s hired killers.

Both women realised they were in danger at the exact same second. Kate began to squeeze the trigger of her gun, but she wasn’t as keyed in as the small woman. Wicker ducked to the left, then swung her leg, catching Kate’s gun hand, knocking the shot astray. Then Wicker leaned down, grabbed her gun and wrenched it away. She backhanded Kate across the face with a blow like a wedge of steel. Black flashes invaded her vision and she fell backwards.

Wicker reversed the gun in her grip, aimed it between Kate’s eyes.

‘You’re the whore that Joe Hunter wants back,’ Wicker said. ‘Shame you’re going back to him with a hole in your skull, isn’t it?’

Kate heard the words with a trickle of relief. Joe was still alive.

Wicker began to exert pressure on the trigger.

‘Hold it, Wicker,’ Huffman said from behind Kate.

Wicker sighed, lowered the Glock.

Kate craned round to look up at Huffman. He stood over her, a phone to his ear. He was smiling whimsically.

‘OK, Hunter,’ she heard him say. ‘We meet in one hour.’

Chapter 37

I hung up the phone.

There was a bad taste in my mouth and I felt like spitting. I’d have done so but there was a lady present. Imogen was sitting next to me in the back seat of the Windstar. Rink was in front of her, and Harvey was driving. We were on the move on the streets of Pilot Point so that we didn’t present a sitting target if indeed Huffman was trying to vector in on Kate’s phone.

‘We should bring in the FBI.’ It wasn’t the first time Imogen had suggested it.

We’d already had this conversation and discarded the idea. But for Imogen’s sake, I explained our conclusion.

‘I’ve killed men on your behalf, Imogen. I’d rather see an end to this without facing the rest of my days behind bars.’

‘I’d rather go to prison than end up dead,’ Imogen huffed.

‘Not me.’ I left the subject of involving law enforcement at that. Imogen had her part to perform in my plan to get Kate back. It was going to be tricky and carried an element of risk. Imogen could very well die in the execution. But, the way I saw it, she owed her sister that at least.

‘Head for Quicksilver Ranch,’ I said to Harvey and he nodded.

We followed East Liberty Street out of town, picked up the highway north into Grayson County then took a minor road towards Huffman’s place. We were back in semi-rural pastures dotted with trees and bushes. A little further on we’d find the prairie where the earlier ambush had occurred. For the purposes of an exchange for ransom like the one we were on our way to, we’d have normally picked a more public place. That would have cut down on the likelihood of a gun battle. But under these circumstances – and in order for my plan to work – I required the empty prairie. I didn’t want any witnesses. None whatsoever.

It was dusk by the time we arrived at our first stop. The drop-off point was as secluded as we could hope for, with only longhorn cattle as witnesses.

Rink and Harvey were out of the Windstar in an instant and both disappeared into the long grass. I climbed into the driving position and set off. Imogen was sitting with her eyes closed. Her face was pale and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

‘If everything goes to plan we’ll have Kate back within the hour,’ I reassured her.

‘And if it doesn’t?’

‘We’ll probably all be dead. But I’m not planning on that. Just do as I instructed and everything should be fine.’

‘What if Huffman kills me the second he sees me?’

‘Then I’ll kill him.’

‘That’s a great consolation,’ she muttered.

‘He won’t shoot you, Imogen, he wants what you recorded on your camera. If he shoots you he’ll never get it. He’ll be worried about copies and want to check that he has all those accounted for before he does anything to you.’

‘He’s reckless, Joe. He likes confrontation. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shot me just for the hell of it. Just to see how you will react.’

‘Then he’ll be sorry.’

‘You’re very sure of yourself,’ Imogen said. ‘What makes you think you can take him out before he gets you?’

‘I was a professional soldier for fourteen years. I’ve been in similar situations before. Huffman’s just a punk who has murdered a few other punks. I’m pretty sure I can handle him.’

My words sounded conceited, but I said them more to give Imogen hope than because I believed them. She snorted. ‘Jake was a professional soldier too, Joe. And we both know what happened to him.’

‘Yeah. He gave his life for people that he cared for. If it comes to it, so will I.’

Looking in the mirror I saw that Imogen’s eyes were now wide open. She was staring back into my reflection. Finally she sighed. She’d caught the hidden meaning in my words.

The rest of our journey was done in silence. But it wasn’t that far, just a mile or so. I brought the Windstar to a halt adjacent to an entrance I hadn’t reached that first time on this road. There was a gate, and a copse of trees, and I’d been correct when first I’d spied this place and concluded it was the way to Quicksilver Ranch.

I surveyed the land beyond the gate. Nothing moved. Twilight was setting in and a shadow passed over the prairie. I couldn’t see any sign of the ranch itself so it must have been somewhere beyond the horizon. I turned to Imogen. She blinked back at me, tears in her eyes.

‘I never intended for any of this to happen.’

‘I know.’ Reaching over the seat I took one of her hands. ‘Keep your chin up, Imogen. Everything’ll turn out fine.’

‘As long as we get Kate back.’

I was determined that we would. Letting go of her hand, I reached for my SIG, checked it and I was good to go.

‘Remember, just do as we agreed.’

‘OK.’

No argument from her this time: made me feel a whole lot better about what was to come. I shifted the Windstar into drive, touched the gas and drove through the gate on to Huffman’s territory. At the quarter-mile mark, I stopped the vehicle and got out. I opened the rear door and held out my hand to help Imogen out of the car. It was the last time she’d be treated gently before this was over with.

I could hear vehicles approaching.

Without looking for them, I grabbed Imogen by the collar of her jacket and dragged her to the front of the car. There I threw her down on her knees in a billow of grit and dust. I stood behind her, pulled out my SIG and jammed it tight against the top of her head. Imogen began wailing. Finally I looked up and saw three vehicles approaching in convoy. They stopped a hundred yards short of us and figures began climbing out of the cars. I wasn’t surprised to see that one of them towered over all the others: Larry Bolan back where he belonged.

Other than the photos that Harvey had shown me on his laptop, I hadn’t ever laid eyes on Robert Huffman. Excluding Bolan, there were five other people who moved to the front of the lead vehicle. They were all dressed in what amounted to pseudo-military gear. One of them was much slighter of build and for a fraction of a second I thought that it could be Kate, but I quickly discarded the notion. It was a woman, but whereas Kate was tall and graceful, this woman held herself with the same masculinity as all the others in the group. Three of the others held guns, while the final man had his hands clasped at his navel as though in prayer. I took that one to be Huffman.