Vengeance: A Reece Culver Thriller - Book 1 (23 page)

Chapter Seventy-Two

T
he steep terrain
was covered in loose pine needles, rocks, and downed trees. The forest was more sparse here than in other areas below the road and made it easy for the Chevy Tahoe to skid down the slope. The air was already chilly and Shanks could feel the temperature dropping as night set in.

“Hold your fire,” Shanks yelled from the steep slope above them.

“They’ll get away,” the second man protested.

“If you hit the gas tank, we’ll have a hell of a mess and the police will come. You’ll ruin everything,” the first man yelled, losing his footing and going down with a thump.

“We’ve got to track them. We can’t just let them go,” Shanks said.

“I think they’re over this way,” the first man said, shining the beam of his flashlight down past the Tahoe.

“Okay, you two take the right side and I’ll go this way to the left. If you find them sleeping later on, use your knives and slit their throats. We can’t afford to let these intruders go. They came snooping and now they have to pay the price,” Shanks said.

The men split off as Shanks instructed and worked their way down the mountain. The two on the right stopped every couple of feet to shine the light from side to side, determined to catch the three who had escaped.

Shanks pulled out his cellphone and dialed his house.

“Hello,” one of his men answered.

“It’s me. Get one of the others to help you and come fetch the moving trucks. Leave a car on the road with the keys under the mat, so I have a way back to the house.”

“Do you want me to get Blackwell or one of the others to come help you?” the gate guard asked.

“No, I’ve got it under control,” Shanks said. He shoved his phone into his pocket and continued down the mountain in the darkness. To the right he spotted the flashlight beam from one of his men sweeping back and forth. After going a good ways, Shanks stopped his descent and stood leaning against a large pine tree. The rough bark of the ponderosa felt good on his back.

What wasn’t so good were the bastards in that Tahoe. Where the hell did they come from? He couldn’t help but suspect that they were the same people who had buzzed the property in the plane. If so, that meant they were organized. Although he didn’t think they were cops.

Having such loose ends at a time like this made him very angry. When he found those bastards, they were going to pay for their meddling. He’d make sure to set coyotes on them and rip them to pieces.

Chapter Seventy-Three

“Y
ou okay?” Haisley
asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Reece said, pushing up into a sitting position. He pressed his left hand down into the snow-covered rocks, and a wrenching pain coursed through his left shoulder. Reaching across his chest, he searched his shirt for blood. It felt dry. Blood wasn’t a good thing to be leaving behind in this kind of country. It would bring predators at night and make tracking them easier once daylight hit. Reece figured he could dispatch any animal that came calling with his .357 Magnum, but knew the sound of gunshots would draw Shanks’ men to their position.

“How about Mobley?” Reece asked, listening to the silence of the night. He jerked at the sound of voices over to their left.

Haisley whispered, “We need to get some distance between us and them. If we can get enough far enough away, we can make a small fire. That’s the only way we’re going to be able to survive the night.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Reece said.

“Mobley seems to be compliant with coming along, so we’ve got that on our side,” Haisley said, sounding like he was back on the force.

“I think that’s north,” Reece said, pointing and then realizing that Haisley couldn’t see him in the darkness. “If we walk far enough, we’ll get to I-70. It’s north of here and there should be cell towers along it.”

They stood up, and Reece went first, with Mobley behind and Haisley following. Moving tree to tree, the men felt their way across the mountain. The chill of the night was setting in with the sun’s heat long past. Reece was glad they’d worn hiking boots and ski jackets, but each time he grabbed onto a tree he felt a spike of pain shoot through his shoulder. He knew it was injured, but there was no time to stop, especially with Shanks’s men tracking them.

Going blind was going to take forever. Reece passed Mobley off to Haisley and moved ahead at a faster pace. He heard something below them and stopped to listen. It was the rushing water of a stream or river. That filled him with hope, because wherever that water was going would lead to civilization.

Reece could hear Mobley groaning as Haisley brought him down the hill. If there was a mountain stream below, they would probably find a flat spot where they could camp for the night and, if need be, clean up the large man’s wounds.

“You hear that?” Reece whispered.

A heavy hand landed on his back. “What is it?” Mobley grunted, slurring his words.

“Sounds like a stream. We have to go another five hundred feet or so, and we can take a break,”

Reece cast an eye back up the slope they’d just traversed. It was pitch black now, and all evidence of daylight had been erased from the mountaintops.

Reece pressed on, taking small steps. The trees were spaced farther apart in this stretch, and he felt dirt skittering under his feet. He took a deep breath, smelling the fresh earth, and felt his shoulder throb.
A hit of Charlie Anders single malt scotch would taste pretty sweet right about now
.

“Haisley, this seems like a good place to stop and make a fire,” Reece announced at last.

“Look up above,” Haisley said.

Reece turned toward him and saw the lights of both trucks driving along the switchbacks.

“Maybe they’ve given up.”

“I think we should keep going a while longer. We’re too easy of a target for them here. The Tahoe is straight above us,” Haisley said.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s Mobley I’m worried about.”

“He’s come this far. He can go a little farther.”

Reece wrapped his arm around Mobley’s round back and coaxed him forward. The ground was smoother down here, with only an occasional rock. The water to the left trickled, making its way south along its rocky course. Reece stuffed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and held it there. That position seemed to provide some relief from the throbbing pain. Mobley was covered in sweat and wheezing hard. Reece willed him along, pulling forward.

“You up there?” he said when he lost track of Haisley.

“Yeah,” Haisley said a long way off.

Reece pulled Mobley toward the distant spot. He could just make out the shape of large, jagged rocks ahead of them. They seemed darker than the darkness he was squinting to see through.

Reece felt a hand grab his left forearm, and he groaned in pain. “Let go,” he managed to say.

“You hurt too?” Haisley said, releasing his grip.

“Yeah, I tore up the shoulder on that fall.”

“Check this out, I found a good place to build a fire, and I found this in Mobley’s pack,” Haisley said, waving the beam of a small flashlight at Reece’s feet.

“Careful with that. As dark as it is, that light can be seen for a long way. They might still be out there tracking us.”

Reece dropped to his behind and lay back, gazing up at an array of stars. The sky was clear black and the heavens above looked brighter than he’d ever seen. The cold ground felt good under his back and Mobley had gone quiet. Reece was hoping he’d finally passed out. The night was dead silent. Haisley volunteered to scout for firewood, since he had full use of both of his hands.

Reece caught himself drifting toward sleep. He knew he needed to stay alert, but the thought of sleep was too sweet to ignore. He was beat. A twig snapped somewhere out in the woods. Still dozing, he ignored it, savoring the promise of rest. Another branch snapped and he sat up sharply, listening and straining to see out past the rocks. He thought of his gun and reached inside his coat, finding it in the inside pocket. Listening hard, Reece heard another limb snap, closer this time. He shifted over to the U-shaped rocks they’d taken shelter in and peered around the corner.

Mobley groaned, and Reece reached back, putting a hand over his mouth to quiet him. Mobley reached out with both hands and tried to pry Reece’s hand from his mouth. He was twisting his head side to side.

“Did you hear that?” Reece heard someone say a few yards past the big rocks. Mobley struggled with Reece trying to get free from his hand. He bent down next to Mobley’s head: “Shut up or we’re dead.”

He held his gun out, ready to fire if Shank’s men discovered them. Reece heard a voice again—only this time it was farther away. He dropped the gun to his side and eased his grip, hoping they’d decided to go the other way. He knelt up and then got to his feet. Looking around one of the rocks, he spotted a light dancing as one of the men walked downhill away from him. He just hoped Haisley hadn’t gone looking for firewood in that direction.

Chapter Seventy-Four

V
inton lowered the
bundle of tie wraps and the pliers to answer his vibrating cell phone.

“Blackwell. Yeah, did you find the bodies?” Vinton said, cradling his phone between his chin and shoulder. He picked up the white oval inspection panel from the red cloth underneath the wing of the Lear 55 corporate jet.

“Those two are some of my best men. If they’re still alive, they’ll track them down and take care of the problem.” Blackwell picked up a pile of Phillips-head screws and inserted the tip of the screwdriver into one. He poked it through the hole in the inspection panel and turned the screwdriver clockwise, tightening the screw into the nut plate inside the wing. Then repeated the process with all six screws.

“Shanks went too? Was he alone? Good. Okay then, call me if they need help. I like nothing better than hunting in the dark.”

Blackwell fished out the bottle of white gloss nail polish he’d brought along and touched up the screw heads that held the inspection panel in place. He fetched the red cloth from the floor of the hangar and reached into the landing gear well, rubbing it on a glob of black grease. Then brought the cloth out and smeared dabs of grease onto the sides of the oval inspection panel underneath the wing.

He knew the pilots would do a walk-around inspection before boarding the plane, and he didn’t want to give them any reason to suspect work had been done. They’d figure things out eventually, but at that point it would be too late.

Chapter Seventy-Five

R
eece heard a
noise behind them. He slipped back from the side of the rocks and listened. “Hold it right there,” someone yelled in the distance.

Reece instantly thought of his friend Haisley. He’d been gone too long.

“Take it easy with that gun,” Haisley yelled.

“Oh hell,” Reece muttered under his breath. Getting to his feet, he set off walking as quietly as he could up the hill toward the sounds.

“Where are the others?” someone said.

Reece stopped in his tracks about twenty yards above them. The wind was still and he could hear their voices plainly. He could see one of the men shining a flashlight into Haisley’s face. Reece had to help Haisley before it was too late.

“There down by the river. We found a downed tree for shelter,” Haisley said, lying.

Reece inched closer, shuffling his feet forward, trying his best to keep quiet like a savage sneaking up on prey. He wished he’d brought a knife like the big Buck knife his father used to carry when they went pheasant hunting along the Missouri River.

The man with the light followed Haisley toward the running water down slope of them. Reece picked up his speed, closing the gap between himself and Haisley’s captors. Along the way he considered his options. He decided the best move was to knock the light loose. Reece knew his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but the men with the flashlight would be at a disadvantage without their light.

Palming a rock in his hand, he threw it out past the men. The rustle got the desired reaction. They stopped and pointed the light in that direction. Reece could see the man pointing out toward the forest on Haisley’s right side. He knew his friend was left-handed and if given the chance would seize the gun. Reece took aim and fired a single shot. Gold flame leaped from the barrel of his gun, and Reece watched the man go down.

Haisley started struggling with the second man and a shot rang out, ricocheting off a distant rock. Reece held back, wanting to help his friend but not wanting to get shot. He saw the man on the ground writhing. The flashlight was shining back at him and the guy was shuffling in an awkward rhythm toward the gun. He knew if he didn’t stop him Haisley would be dead.

Reece sprinted toward the downed man and stepped on his hand just as he reached for the revolver. Haisley and the second man were wrestling viciously on the ground nearby. He picked up the gun, stuffing it in a pocket. It was pitch black except for the light from the flashlight.

A second shot fired and Reece heard an “umph.” The bullet had found a target and he hoped it wasn’t his friend.

Reece struck the wounded man in the forehead with his revolver, knocking him out. He shined the light toward the two struggling men and saw Haisley pinned on the ground by the guy he was fighting. He saw the gun on the ground near Haisley’s right arm. The man on top of him was bleeding from the left shoulder, but had a knife pointed down toward Haisley’s neck. They were deadlocked. Haisley was holding him off, but the knife was just a few inches from his throat. Reece aimed and fired.

The man with the knife collapsed on top of Haisley. Reece sprinted toward his friend and watched Haisley roll away as the guy collapsed into the dirt.

“You okay?” Reece asked.

“Thanks, Culver. I owe you one.”

“You owe me two, actually.”

They took the guns, ammo, and flashlight from Shanks’ foot soldiers and headed back to collect Mobley. Reece was tired and ready to make a fire, but he knew the gunshots would bring on reinforcements.

Haisley pulled Mobley to his feet, and they headed along the river. They had gone a long way when, out of nowhere, the cellphone Reece had taken off the guy he’d knocked out started to ring from within his coat pocket. He pulled the phone out, flipped it open, and checked the lit caller ID window.

“Does it have a name?” Haisley asked.

“Blackwell.”

Reece and Haisley set Mobley down against a big tree.

“This looks like a good place to spend the night. You think we should risk a fire?” Reece said.

“I doubt they could find us now, as far as we’ve come. Besides, the hunt will be on tomorrow at daybreak. Our tracks will be easy to spot.”

“Yeah, I’m with you. Probably a good idea to warm up and get some sleep so we can cover lots of ground tomorrow,” Reece said.

When Haisley said he was ready, Reece opened the cylinder on his revolver and pulled out a .357 Magnum round. With his Leatherman in hand he pried the copper bullet from the casing. Haisley shined the flashlight down onto a wad of dead grass that was surrounded by a teepee of small sticks he constructed. Reece dumped the black powder from the bullet casing onto the grass.

“We need something to ignite this with. You got any ideas?”

Haisley made a face and unzipped Mike Mobley’s backpack, rifling through the contents. That reminded Reece of Mobley and his cigarettes. He started to search the big man’s pockets.

“What are you doing?” Haisley asked.

“Looking for his lighter.” He knew Mobley had to have a lighter, but he went pocket by pocket and came up empty. Reece did find a cellphone in Mobley’s coat pocket and opened it. He looked up at Haisley, who was giving him a funny look as if to say what are you doing, but instead of explaining he began scrolling through the list of calls. Reece counted nine calls to the same number over the course of the previous week. He studied the area code and knew it was Colorado, but to whom? Reece highlighted the number and pressed send. The caller ID on the phone showed the name Stephen Cox. Reece couldn’t believe his eyes. He slammed the flip phone shut before the number began to dial.

“Motherfucker,” Reece growled, still looking at the phone.

“What?” Haisley asked.

“You’re never going to believe it,” Reece said, setting Mobley’s phone down on a flat rock beside his knee.

“Believe what?” Haisley asked.

“He’s got nine calls to Stephen Cox over the past three days.”

“Let me see,” Haisley said. Reece handed him the phone and watched his friend review the calls himself. “I was wondering how Cox figured out Shanks was in the mountains of Colorado.”

“I’ll bet when he was lagging behind in the trees he was calling Cox, giving him our whereabouts,” Reece said.

“We ought to make tracks and leave this scumbag behind to fend for himself.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Reece said, reaching over to take Mobley’s cellphone. He set the phone down on the flat rock and smashed it with a baseball-sized rock. “That should take care of it.”