Authors: Michael Kerr
“To be ready to leave Fort Myers before dawn. I said I’d give him directions. Thing is, he won’t play it straight. He’ll be thinking up some plan to get you back, keep Kelly, and kill us.”
ALAN
Norris’s head was bandaged, but he was okay. He had a thick skull. He wasn’t suffering any serious after affects from the blows inflicted by the silencer of the gun that Logan had hit him with. The guy had not intended to kill him, or he would be in a morgue drawer now, not walking up the stairs to see Cady.
Bobby Thornton had dropped him off outside the office and then returned to the Bunker. Bobby wasn’t sure what was happening, and didn’t want to. Something big was going down, that was for sure. But he’d much rather not know what. Guarding the prisoners was his job. He was what Nick Cady called low echelon, and he knew that it meant he was low ranking in the scheme of things.
Alan walked into the office and Nick approached him and put a meaty hand on his shoulder, as if greeting an old friend. Larry was there, but stayed in his seat.
“You sure you’re okay, Al?” Nick said. “If you need a couple of days off to recuperate, that’s fine. But we’ve got the chance to take Logan down in the morning, and I thought you’d want to be there and have a piece of him. He has my daughter.”
“Where’s Vince,” Alan said. “Bobby said that he hadn’t seen him around, but his Jag’s in the lot.”
Nick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. Swallowed hard and said, “Logan took him out, Al. Cold-cocked him at his house, tortured him for information and then put a couple of slugs in the back of his head.”
“I went to the house,” Larry said. “Drove his car back here and arranged for the body to be removed. We obviously didn’t want the police involved.”
Nick poured Alan a Scotch and handed it to him. “Logan will suffer for what he’s done, Al. I want you to be there when it happens.”
“I will be,” Alan said. “What plan have you got in place?”
“We’ll get Jade here. Logan is going to call before dawn. By then I want a tracker fitted to the Merc, so that I can be followed from two miles back. You and Larry can follow me without him knowing. For all we know he’s in the area. He could be sitting in a Starbucks downtown with Karen, or be fifty miles away.”
“He’ll make it a deserted location,” Alan said. “I don’t read him as being the type of guy that would want to risk a gunfight in a highly populated setting. I would think he’ll lead you out somewhere remote, where he can see you coming.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because at Fleming’s apartment building he could have just shot Lenny and I dead, but he didn’t.”
“After what he did to Vince, I don’t agree,” Nick said. “I want him whacked, but not if there is the slightest risk to Karen. We need to get her back before we take him out.”
“There’s no saying that it’ll be a close-up and personal handover,” Alan said. “We know he’s smart.”
“Meaning?”
“That we need to anticipate the unexpected and be prepared for it. I suggest a scoped rifle, in case the only sight we get of him is from several hundred yards away.”
“Can you handle one?”
“Yes. Up to half a mile I wouldn’t miss. Over that and it would be a percentage shot. I was never a sniper in the SAS, but I was proficient. The men that are at the top of their game can take a target out from over a mile away in the right conditions. I haven’t got the time now to go somewhere and fire a shitload of practice rounds.”
“Bring whatever you think will cover all contingencies,” Nick said. “I want both of you to realize that Karen’s safety is paramount. Killing Logan and whoever is with him is a secondary requirement”
By four-thirty a.m. they were ready to move. Alan and Larry had visited the arsenal full of weapons in the Bunker. Alan selected a Barrett .50 sniper rifle with a maximum range of over two thousand yards, and a suitable scope and ammo. Larry opened a box and took a couple of M26 fragmentation grenades from it. He probably wouldn’t get the opportunity to use them, but had always had a hankering to pull the pin on one and throw it at somebody. It was a symptom of watching too many war movies. It would be a blast, literally, if he could blow Logan up with one.
One of the truck mechanics came across from the on-site garage and put a small black box under the driver’s seat of the Merc. He then programmed Larry’s new cell phone and explained how the GPS worked and how Larry could follow the signal in real time on a screen in the Ford Explorer that they had decided to take. They could have relied on being talked in by phone, but this was insurance; they would know the Jag’s exact location at all times.
Jade arrived in a cab. Nick told her what was going down. She looked and felt nervous. She was very uneasy at being involved. She thought that Logan was far more able and dangerous than Nick was giving him credit for. He would have planned this meticulously and taken into account that Nick was not to be trusted. He wasn’t the type to walk into a trap. He was dictating the rules.
There wasn’t much to talk about. They sat around and drank coffee that Jade brewed downstairs in the office. One of the truck drivers had a kid’s seat in the back of his sedan, which was parked in the lot, so Larry went and got it and gave the guy a hundred bucks.
“Are you going to do the deal with Logan?” Jade asked Nick.
“Of course I am,” he said. “He’ll get the girl, and I’ll get Karen back, and then he’ll die.”
“That’s what he’ll expect you to try and do,” Jade said. “He’ll have thought it through. I have the feeling that it’s us that will be walking into trouble.”
“Do you have any suggestions?” Nick asked.
“No, because we have no idea where he is, or what kind of trap he has in place. He’s had a lot of time to set this up.”
“You’re overestimating him,” Nick said. “All he wants is to get the kid back. If he does, he’ll be happy to walk away in one piece. But that isn’t going to happen.”
Karen picked up a pillow and hugged it and just stayed sitting on the bed and rocking back and forth. She buried her face in the pillow and silently cried.
“What’s the matter?” Logan said.
It was a full minute before Karen composed herself and looked up. Her eyelids were red and her cheeks and the pillow were wet. “I thought that I had a good life,” she said. “Not just good, but nigh on perfect. Denton is my soul mate, and we live on a beautiful island and have successful businesses, and a condo overlooking the beach. But our good fortune is built on blood money; on the suffering of people that my father treats as nothing more than a means to make profit from. I feel ashamed of every day that I’ve been his daughter.”
“You’re not responsible for what he is or what he’s done,” Logan said. “If you had no knowledge of it, then you have nothing to feel bad about. You’re a victim as well, but in a different way. And no money has blood on it. It’s just currency that gets circulated by all sorts of people, good and bad.”
“So you think I should just go back, if this works out, and carry on as though none of it happened?”
“In a way. I’d put it down to a life experience that I can’t alter, and reconcile it and move on. Don’t let who your father is and what he’s done screw your life up. That wouldn’t change anything, apart from blighting your future.”
Karen took on board what Logan was saying. He seemed totally grounded and had a positive take on things. “Can I have that coffee now, please?” she said. “And I want you to know that I’ll do whatever I can to help you get Kelly back. I need to see this through as much as you two do.”
Tom filled a cup and handed it to her. He then stepped outside and phoned Gail. Needed to hear her voice, and to let her know that so far he and Logan were okay.
Gail and Debbie were in bed but wide awake. They’d spent hours talking themselves out, passing time that was going by as slowly as it did if you had ever had the misfortune to be sat next to the hospital bed of a loved one that was very ill or near to death. Or if you were waiting for a bus that was already overdue. Good things zipped by, but bad shit had a way of making every second seem like an hour.
When Gail’s phone trilled she actually yelped in surprise, then shot out her hand and knocked the cell off the night table. She leapt out of bed and picked it up and accepted the call.
“Gail?”
“Yes, Tom. Are you okay?”
“Fine. This mess should be cleaned up in a few hours. When it’s over with I’ll call again and with any luck we can get back to running the store.”
“Is Logan with you?”
“He’s in the room. We’re staying the night at a motel. I just stepped outside to get some fresh air and give you a call.”
“Be more careful than you’ve ever been before,” Gail said. “Be as wily as you are when you’re out hunting. More so, because critters don’t shoot back at you.”
“I’ll tread carefully, Honey. You take care.”
“Okay. I love you, Tom.”
“Love you back,” Tom said and ended the call.
It was five in the morning when Logan called Cady again. “Time to roll,” he said to him. “Leave in five minutes, join 41 and head south, and keep to the speed limit. Any questions?”
“No, Logan,” Nick said. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
LOGAN
and Tom had everything that they thought they might need in the Pathfinder. Karen went to the bathroom and put her crumpled suit back on, and when she came out Logan handed her a fleece that was massive on her, even over her jacket. She rolled the sleeves up six inches.
They drank fresh coffee, and after what Logan thought was about the right length of time, working out distance and speed, he called Cady again. Told him to head for Alligator Alley, and to then make a right on State Road 29. At the moment they had the gangster on a line and were reeling him in.
“Let’s go and get in place to finish this,” Logan said, picking his rucksack up and opening the door.
Logan drove. Karen sat next to him, and Tom was in the back double checking weapons.
They were soon on the track that led to the fenced off area that the observation tower stood in.
Logan saw several breaks in the bushes and trees that lined the track. He slowed to walking pace, picked a gap and drove in, zigzagging to avoid hitting the trunks of trees. The ground was uneven, covered in raised roots, but the SUV was up to it. Forty feet in he stopped and switched off the engine.
“Come with me,” Logan said to Karen. And to Tom, “You know what to do.”
“I won’t know what to do until I see what
they
do,” Tom said.
Logan led Karen back out onto the track and they walked side by side to the gates. There was no need to climb over them this time. Logan had taken a pair of bolt cutters from a toolbox in the rear of the Pathfinder. He cut through the rusted chain that held the gates together and pushed them back wide open, through weeds and creepers that had grown up through the wire and gave up their grip grudgingly.
“Where are we going?” Karen said.
“Just up ahead. You’ll see in a minute,” Logan said as he led the way up the grassy incline.
The observation tower reminded Karen of the one on the drive round loop in the Ding Darling Wildlife Refuge on Sanibel Island. It appeared to be sturdily built, but as they neared it she could see that it needed refurbishing. Some of the timber uprights appeared to be rotting, and a warning sign had been attached to one of them.
“Seems that these times of austerity affect everything,” Logan said.
“You expect me to climb up there?” Karen said.
“It’s sound enough. I’m six-four and at least twice your weight, and I managed to get up and down it. Just watch your step and don’t trust the handrails.”
Dawn was breaking as they stood at the top of the tower and looked around. A flock of red-billed Ibis flew across their field of vision. The dayshift of wildlife was beginning to stir.
Logan phoned Cady again. Guessed that he would be getting close.
“Yeah?” Nick said.
“You need to make a left at the four-way in Copeland. About a mile farther on you’ll see warning signs on a post that’s losing its fight with gravity. Go down the track and through open gates in a wire fence. Stop fifty feet in and switch off your engine.”
“I want to speak to Karen,” Nick said. “For all I know she could be dead.”
Logan handed the phone to Karen, who had overheard the short conversation. “I’m fine, Dad,” she said.
“Has he harmed you in any way?”
“No,
he
doesn’t harm women or children,” Karen said brusquely before passing the phone back to Logan, who ended the call.
Nick reached the warning signs and stopped and phoned Larry and told him his exact location.
“We’re ten minutes behind you, boss,” Larry said. “Slow it down and give us time to get there and set up.”
Nick sat back and let five or six minutes crawl by before driving along the track and through the open gates, to park as per Logan’s instructions. He climbed out of the Merc and told Jade to bring Kelly. It was almost full daylight.
His phone rang again.
“Just walk straight on,” Logan said. “You’re almost there.”
Nick carried on until he saw the top of the observation tower appear. He stopped, backed up and phoned Larry again and told him where the tower was.
Larry parked the Explorer at the side of the road, up on the long grass, and got out. Alan lifted the sniper rifle out of the rear and carried it cradled in both arms as they jogged along the track. They rounded a bend and saw the open gates up ahead and the rear of the Merc, and so angled off into the trees and approached more slowly.
Alan stopped at the foot of a large gumbo limbo that was close to the link fence. The thick lower branches of the thirty meter tall tree were drooping very close to the ground.
“Hold the rifle,” Alan said to Larry, passing it to him before he began to clamber up the tree. The mass of long and twisted branches made it easy to climb. Ten meters up there was a natural standing place, where he would be able to position himself with his back against the shiny red bark of the trunk. The fork of a branch in front of him would be ideal to rest the barrel of the rifle; from where he had an uninterrupted view of the top half of the tower. It would be a comparatively easy shot, less than three hundred yards. With the scope fitted it would be impossible to miss. He could see the shadowy shapes of two people standing at the top of the tower, one tall and one much shorter; a man and a woman. Logan and Karen. Cady’s daughter would get one hell of a shock when Logan’s head suddenly came apart and she was covered in blood and brains. The guy would be dead before the sound of the shot reached his ears.
Alan surveyed the surroundings. He couldn’t see Cady or Jade, but assumed that they were heading for the tower and were now over the raised rim of grass-covered earth that shielded the bottom of it from sight.
Descending the tree, Alan nodded at Larry, took the rifle from him and leaned it against the trunk. “Logan has to be stupid to arrange to meet here,” he said. “The guy is like a duck in a shooting gallery. Only problem is his buddy isn’t with him, which means he’s watching from cover. When I take Logan out he’ll make a move.”
“I’ll scout round and see if I can find him,” Larry said. “He won’t start blasting with two women and the kid’s lives at risk.”
As Larry made his way back into denser cover, Alan slipped the strap of the rifle over his head, positioned the weapon at his back and climbed the tree again and took up a firing position.
Tom had a nine millimeter pistol tucked in the right pocket of the dark navy windbreaker he was wearing. And he was carrying the crossbow that Gail had shot the guy at the store with. He had watched the two men leave the track, and had followed them into the wood. He was positive that he was involved in what was nothing short of a life or death situation. If he found himself up against an armed man he would not hesitate to shoot. The men that worked for Nick Cady were here to kill him and Logan. So attack would be the best form of defense.
Larry thought that he saw movement a few yards to his right. He crouched down, drew his gun and watched and listened and waited. He wanted to chamber a round, but knew that if someone
was
nearby then they would hear him do it.
A damp twig broke under Tom’s foot with the sound of a creaking stair; not a sharp crack, but the noise sounded loud in the quietus of early morning. He stopped dead in his tracks and instinctively held his breath. The seconds past. He breathed out slowly, took another two steps and stopped again behind the wide trunk of a cypress tree. A minute later he heard the rustle of leaves from several feet away and tensed, lifting the bow and curling his pointing finger around the trigger, ready to pull it.
Larry held the gun in his right hand with his left hand on the spring-loaded slide, ready to pull it back, chamber a bullet and shoot. He heard a twig snap and believed that Logan’s partner was very close by.
Movement. Larry was sure that the guy was behind a tree just a few feet in front of him. There was a possibility that a raccoon or some other critter had stepped on a twig, but he wasn’t going to dismiss the likelihood of an armed man being there.
Treading carefully, Larry moved out and began to edge his way around to be in a position to see behind the tree.
Tom knew that he couldn’t just stay where he was. Logan needed cover. He stepped backwards, waist-high in some kind of tall emerald green ferns.
They spotted each other simultaneously. Larry pulled the slide back in half a second, took aim and…
…Tom fired the crossbow smoothly, aiming for the main body mass. The arrow spun through the air, and the duel side-by-side serrated broadhead hit Larry in the upper abdomen; the cutting edges creating up to a two hundred and fifty percent greater wound opening than a traditional broadhead tip, ripping through the network of nerves in his solar plexus and almost exiting his back, causing significant blood loss, and ultimately a fast kill.
Larry instantly lost the ability to control his motor functions. He doubled over and sagged to his knees, dropping the gun, to stare at the fletching of the short arrow that was now in his body. The pain was agonizing. He stayed in place, silent and unmoving as he attempted to comprehend what had happened.
Tom reloaded the bow, took careful aim and put a second arrow in Larry, through the top of his bowed head.
Pitching forward, Larry fell onto his face and was still. The whirling head of the arrow had penetrated his skull and macerated the part of the brain that it was now stuck fast in.
There was no need for Tom to worry about fingerprints. The arrows had been clean, and he had only handled them by the feather fletches. He stepped over the body, paused and picked up a grenade that must have fallen out of one of the dead man’s jacket pockets, and then stealthily moved in the direction of the fence. He had noted that the other guy had been carrying a long rifle, and so assumed that he had found a position to shoot from. It would have to be elevated, because Logan had told him that the tower could not be seen from the track, due to the ground dipping down steeply into what was a large flat area. The shooter would be at the fringe of trees that bordered the fence, and would no doubt be up in one of them and have a view of where Logan would be waiting for Cady. All he could think to do was walk along the tree line between two points that he decided would give the best view of the target. It was a bracketed fifty yards in his mind; where the sniper would take the shot from.