Absolution (13 page)

Zack had not been tied up.  He’d spent a lot of time doing a fingertip search in the darkness to find a cord, button, toggle switch or handle that would operate the trunk release cable, but couldn’t.  He had no doubt that he could reposition himself and kick the rear seat down, but knew that the noise would alert Logan, and that he wouldn’t have a chance of crawling through and overpowering his captor.

The journey seemed never-ending.  The combination of movement and the smell of gas and stale hot air made him nauseous.  But he had not been incapacitated; had worked his jacket back up so that he could use his arms and hands again.  He was positive that he would get a chance to turn the situation around.  He had found a heavy-duty plastic pack, unfastened the press-stud flap and removed an L-shaped lug wrench.  When Logan opened the trunk he would pop up like a Jack-in-the-Box, swinging the wrench.

The best thing that Logan could think to do was finish it here and now.  Just walk Slater into the trees bordering the picnic area, tell him to kneel down and put a couple of rounds in the back of his head.  But it bothered him.  Cold-blooded execution wasn’t his style, and yet if he just beat the shit out of the Indian and let him live, then he would be even more determined to exact revenge. Slater deserved to die a hundred times over, and so however distasteful, the deed would have to be done.  And there was no time like the present.

Logan returned to the car, reached out and opened the Kia’s trunk, and immediately stepped back a couple of paces as the lid rose up.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The
Escalade rolled up behind the parked Discovery that Taza and Charlie were in.  All the men got out of the vehicles.

Martin struggled, having to rely on his stick.  He leaned against the Escalade and took a foil blister pack out of his jacket pocket, popped three of the painkillers and dry-swallowed them.  He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Logan and seriously damage him.  No other man had ever hurt him so much in his life.  Being a giant and also muscular and practiced in using physical violence from an early age, he had come to believe that he was almost invincible.  His pride had been hurt by the ex-cop, and he needed to show Logan that he’d won one battle, not the war.  Had he not been incapacitated to such an extent, he would have relished going one on one, without any weapons.  He had never been bested in unarmed combat.

“So what do we do?” Taza said to Martin.  “I went down to where the cabin is, and there’s a light on and a 4x4 parked at the side.”

“We leave the vehicles here and walk in,” Martin said. “Give them a chance to come out, and if they don’t, then we’ll burn them out.”

The plan made all of them smile.  These were men that thrived on violence, were paid to intimidate and hurt people, and on occasion kill for Zack.  They checked their weapons and then walked down the trail to the cabin, stopping twenty yards away from the front of it in the darkness.  Cloud had gathered from the west; a slow moving blanket that had swept in from the Pacific and moved east across California and into southern Arizona, to be their innocent unwary ally and screen them from moonlight.

They circled the cabin, and once they were in place Martin instructed Taza to call out and tell the occupants to come out unarmed or be burned alive.

Fran and Andy heard the voice shouting from outside.  They both froze.  They had been sitting in front of the log fire, feeling safe and secure but very tense, hoping that Logan could somehow deal with the problem without becoming a casualty.  If he did not come back, then they had no idea what they would do.

Fran went over to the table and picked up the burner cell that Logan had left them for use in emergency.  The number of the other phone he had bought was the only one in it.  She made the call.

Logan felt the phone vibrate in his pocket.  Told Zack to stop and lay face down on the ground, and then took the call.

“Logan?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve got company,” Fran said.  “Some guy has just shouted to us.  Said that if we don’t come out they’ll burn the cabin down.”

“Let them walk into the surprises I left for them.  Turn the lamps off and do
not
go outside the cabin.  I’ll get back to you in a couple of minutes.  It’ll be fine, I’ve got Slater.”

Logan ended the call.  “That was one of the women you’re after,” he said to Zack.  “Who did you send?  And how did you know where they where?”

Zack breathed an audible sigh of relief.  This could be his salvation.  When he had reared up from the trunk and took a swing with the lug wrench, he’d hit thin air and toppled out of the vehicle to fall face first on the gravel.  Logan had been standing out of reach and had told him to drop the wrench, get to his feet and walk into the woods.

“Keno and a few other men are there,” Zack said, twisting his head to look up at Logan.  “And finding them was easy.  We found out where the bitch from Pisinimo tended bar.  The guy who owns the place had got a call from her, saying that she wouldn’t be back.  He mentioned a cabin that she’d inherited.  I had someone dig around in her family history, and he hit pay dirt.”

Logan pulled out Zack’s phone.  Found Keno’s number and speed-dialed it.

“Yeah, Zack”.  A hushed, pained voice.

“It’s Logan, Keno.  How’s your face and foot?”

“You inside the cabin?” Martin said.

“No.  But I just got a call saying that you were visiting.”

“And?”

“I’m talking on your boss’s cell, dummy.  What does that tell you?”

“Let me speak to him.”

Logan took two steps forward and kicked Zack hard between his partly open legs, shunting him a foot along the ground as he cried out in pain.

“Recognize his scream?” Logan said.

Martin allowed himself a small smile, even though it hurt his mouth.  That Zack had just been hurt pleased him.  “Put him on, Logan,” he said. “I need for him to tell me what to do.”

“It’s not what
he
wants you to do that matters, Keno.  I want you to back off.”

While Logan and Keno were talking, Charlie Lupe had advanced towards the side of the cabin in a crouch.  He was three feet away from a window that was shuttered, but from which light was escaping from a gap between two boards.  He took another step forward and felt the lightest of pressure against his left shin, and heard a sound that was similar to a tab being pulled back on a can, a millisecond before he was blown sideways and up off his now remaining foot.  Falling, rolling onto his back, Charlie was deafened by the noise, blinded by the sudden light, and had no idea what had happened.  There was no pain, so he assumed that he had been shot at, but not hit.  Instinct and panic drove him.  He turned over, dropping his SMG as he got to his knees and powered himself up on his right foot, only to collapse again as his left side dropped down with no support, and the gleaming bones and ragged flaps of skin that terminated seven inches below his left knee made contact with the hard ground.

Pain blossomed suddenly in Charlie’s leg, sending white-hot bolts up into his hip and side.  He looked along his body, blinking rapidly and trying to regain his night vision, and made a long and high-pitched keening sound as he reached down and felt the wet, raw stump.  He had no idea that he had been maimed by the explosion and the steel fragments of a stake mine that he had tripped.

Logan heard the blast over the phone.  “Sounds as if someone has stumbled across one of the surprises I rigged up,” he said as he placed the phone next to Zack’s right hand and told him to pick it up.

Zack grasped the phone and said, “Martin.”

“Yeah, Zack.  You okay?”

“I’ve been better.  Logan lifted me in Ajo.  He plans on putting a bullet in my head.”

Logan took the phone out of his hand.  “Here’s the deal, Keno,” he said.  “You head back to the ranch now, or your boss gets capped.”

“Maybe we’ll grab the women and negotiate on a level playing field,” Martin said.

“Bad idea,” Logan said, and then heard a second blast.

Taza had been over a yard from the front door of the cabin when the first explosion caused him to drop to the ground.  He heard Charlie cry out in pain, so knew that he had been wounded.  But he didn’t plan on making his way around the side of the cabin to see what had happened.

Turning, Taza dropped to the ground and began to move away in a modified leopard crawl, to accommodate carrying a submachine gun.  He had been in the military for a spell and knew how to present the smallest silhouette possible.  He covered the first few feet fast in what was a two-beat gait, like a trot; an elbow being advanced with the diagonal knee and his body actually touching the ground as he progressed.

It was the stock of the SMG he was holding in front of him that tripped the mine.  The force of the detonation and the resulting pieces of flying metal traveled out in a circular blast.

Taza had no awareness of his passing.  He died almost instantaneously, between two heartbeats.  The weapon he carried was blown back into his face, disintegrating facial bones as hot slivers of metal took off one of his hands, and others punched through his skull, pulverizing his brain.

As the noise faded, Logan smiled.  “That sounds like another of your guys is out of the picture,” he said.  “Leave the area now, Keno, or the next time you see Slater he’ll be dead meat.”

“How do I know that you won’t kill him whatever we do?”

“You don’t.  But doing what I say is his only chance.  If you make another move on the cabin I’ll get a call, and then all bets are off.  I’m not far away.  I’ll gut shoot Slater, then cut his head off.  And before you know it I’ll be there.  You won’t see or hear me. I’ll just pick you off one by one.”

“You think?”

“I know.  You and your ragtag bunch are second-rate at best.  Make a decision.”

Martin thought it through.  He could leave a man in the vicinity to monitor any movement in or out.  The women were going nowhere without him knowing about it.

“Okay, Logan.  Where do we pick Zack up?”

“Go out to the 286 and make a right.  There’s a picnic area a half mile before you reach the Palo Alto Ranch.  And don’t be predictable and leave anyone at the cabin, Keno.  I expect you to do that.  When you get here, phone me, and I’ll tell the women to get the hell away from the area.  If they pick up a tail, you’ll have blown it.”

“There’ll be a gun on the cabin till we have Zack back in one piece and still breathing, Logan.  You need an incentive to keep Zack alive.”

Logan ended the call and then phoned Fran.  “They should be leaving any second now,” he said.  “When they do, let me know, and then sit tight because there will be a guy left to keep watch. The last thing they’ll expect is for you and Andy to stay there.  I should be along within a couple hours.  Okay?”

“Okay,” Fran said. “Stay safe.”

Logan grunted and closed the phone.  He had a few things to do before the bad company arrived.

Fran went across to the window and quietly, slowly opened one of the shutters a half inch and looked out.  Saw four figures almost black on black making their way up the trail, away from the cabin.  Three of the men were jogging, but the last man was limping, moving slowly.  Even in the low light, Fran could see that he was extraordinarily tall; a giant in comparison to the others.

A few minutes ticked by.  Fran and Andy heard engine noise; the sound of vehicles that faded away as they moved off.

Time passed.  It was much later when the sound of plaintive moaning from somewhere very close to the cabin door caught their attention.  They both tentatively looked out through the gap in the shutters again.  A young man was laid face up on the ground.

“He must have been blown up by one of the mines that Logan set,” Andy said.  “We should help him.”

“We shouldn’t do anything for him,” Fran said.  “They came here to kill us.”

“They’ve gone.  And Logan has got Slater,” Andy said. “Letting some young guy die out in the dirt seems a little heartless.”

“Logan said that one of them would stay behind.  This could be a trap,” Fran said.

“So cover me.  I’ll only be outside for five seconds.”

“Wait,” Fran said.  She put the SMG down and went to the bedroom, to return holding her 12 gauge shotgun.  “I think that this is stupid, but if you want to do it, go and drag him in here, but don’t block my view.  If he makes one wrong move I’ll blow his damn head off.”

Andy opened the door a few inches.

Charlie Lupe was light-headed from blood loss.  He had managed to pull himself along the ground and was about to carry on around to the front of the cabin when the second blast lit up the night.  He passed out.  Came round slowly, but didn’t know how much time had passed.  It was deathly quiet.  He began to move again, leaving a trail of blood behind him.  Decided that he was bleeding out, so just stopped, rolled over and lay still, hoping that he would just pass out again and not wake up.  It would just be like falling asleep.  The pain became more intense.  He moaned, and after a couple of minutes he saw the door of the cabin open.

Andy bent down low and went to him.  She had intended to grab him by the ankles and drag him back into the cabin, but saw that half of his left leg was missing.  She grasped his right ankle with both hands and backed up, pulling him towards the door, but didn’t make it back inside.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Logan
had told Martin that he was only a few minutes away, but it took them almost thirty minutes driving fast to reach the picnic area.

Sonny Prine was driving Martin in the Escalade.  Behind them in the Discovery were Skeet Dysart and Duane Newton.

“There,” Martin said, pointing towards the entrance to a small, gravel-topped lot.

Sonny pulled in and drove across it to stop in front of a sign that incorporated a map of the area and illustrations and information on the flora and fauna that the surrounding habitat supported.  Skeet parked next to the Escalade.  There was no other vehicle visible, nor any sign of Zack or Logan.

They assembled at the beginning of a narrow trail that was flanked by bushes and trees for twenty yards.  It led to a large clearing in which picnic tables and a small dumpster were situated.  A metallic noise to their left alerted them, and they trained their weapons on a moving figure that was running away from the side of the dumpster.

Sonny grinned as the raccoon looked back to see if it was being followed.  Duane swallowed hard, and Skeet almost pulled the trigger of his SMG to blow the shit out of the fleeing mammal.

Martin opened his cell and called Zack’s number.  Listened for the ring tone, but could hear nothing but small night noises in the surrounding woods.

“I can see you, Keno,” Logan’s hushed voice said.

“Great.  So where’s Zack?  We’ll take him and leave.”

“Just keep on coming.  Cross the clearing and follow the trail.  You’ll find him.”

Martin had no intention of walking into a trap.  Not after what had happened at the woman’s house in Pisinimo.  He ended the call and told Sonny to take Skeet and Duane and find Zack.  Said that he would only slow them down.

“No problem, Mr. Keno,” Sonny said.

Martin sat down at one of the tables and watched as the three of them fanned out.  He had a bad feeling.  There was every chance that Logan had already killed Zack, and that his men were walking into a one-man ambush.

Zack couldn’t have called out if he’d wanted to.  Logan had shot him through the back of each hand with a silenced handgun, and then tied him to the trunk of a tree facing outwards, with one length of nylon rope around his neck and another piece binding his arms.  He had also removed one of Zack’s boots, to pull the sock off his foot, ball it up, stuff it in his mouth and secure it in place with tape.

Once satisfied that Zack was going nowhere in a hurry, Logan had made his way back to the lot, to drive the Kia a quarter mile away from the picnic area and park it off-road and out of sight, fifty yards up what he thought to be a logging trail.  Wearing his rucksack and with a plan to deal with Keno and whoever else was now en route to him, he jogged back along the edge of the dark highway and was soon making preparations.

Skeet Dysart was the first to die.  He had approached from the right, stepping stealthily through long grass, to unknowingly get to within fifteen feet of Zack before he tripped a wire that pulled a small piece of wedge-shaped wood from a notch in a sapling that had been bent back almost to the ground.  As the wedge was released the young tree whipped up in front of him, and three of the sharpened pieces of branch that had been attached to it with wire were driven into his body; one above his groin to pierce his bladder, one into his abdomen, below his heart, and the third into his throat.

Thrown back by the force of impact, Skeet rebounded, fixed firmly like a gaffed fish, to thrash frantically as blood looped through the air from his gaping mouth.  He made a low gargling sound, felt paralyzed, and was unable to do more than clench and unclench his fists as he defecated and stiffened in a final agony before his body quivered, sagged, and the dead weight ripped him free from the now red shards of whittled wood.

Duane had circled off the trail and was moving in to where he could see the shape of a man up against a tree.  He assumed that it was Zack, but moved in with extreme caution, expecting Logan to be nearby.

The crushing weight knocked Duane down to the forest floor.  Logan had been crouched twelve feet up a mature cottonwood tree with his back against the deeply-fissured bark of its trunk and his feet firmly set on a sturdy limb as thick as his waist.

As the figure looked around and moved slowly but purposely towards where Slater was tied to the tree, Logan simply dropped down on to him, and the surprise attack totally incapacitated the man.  He was lying prone, hurt and bewildered, not cognizant of what had happened.

Logan was astride Duane’s back.  He put his right hand around and under the left side of Duane’s chin, and his left hand on the right side of his head, above his ear, and jerked the head savagely to the side with all his might.

Duane felt an instant of agony, and died with the sound of vertebrae fracturing in his neck.  Logan let go of the head and hunkered down behind the trunk of the cottonwood.  The breaking of the man’s spinal column made a whip crack noise which shattered the silence of the night as the sharp sound traveled out in waves to bounce off the trees.

Logan checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one.  He withdrew the U.S. Navy Seals combat knife – which Leo had provided – from the clip on his belt and held it loosely at his side.  It had a six-inch blade with a blood groove, and was designed specifically for killing the enemy.

Sonny Prine was hunkered down in undergrowth just three yards from Zack when a loud report surprised him. He couldn’t tell which direction it had come from, but thought that it was too close for comfort. It could have been Skeet or Duane standing on a dry twig, but he had no intention of breaking cover to find out.  He eased back into the bushes at the side of the trail and knelt down with his finger curled tightly around the SMG’s trigger.  He had the feeling that Slater was like a goat staked out to lure in a predator, so decided to let one of the others move in to release the boss.

Martin heard the noise.  It was similar to a silenced pistol shot.  He got up and limped over to the dumpster, to take cover behind it.

As he looked nervously about him, his cell began to vibrate.  He took it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID.  It was Billy.

“Yeah, Billy?” Martin whispered.

“The stupid bitches opened the door,” Billy said.  “I shot one of them, but the other is alive.  What do you want me to do with her?”

“That’s music to my ears, Billy.  Leave the dead one there, and head back to the ranch with the other.  I’ll get Logan to phone the woman. Let him speak to her, then switch off her phone.  And if I call you back after that, don’t answer, and don’t stop for anything.  Got it?”

“I got it, boss.”

“Good.  You’ve earned yourself a big bonus, Billy.”

Logan moved away from the body to the left, to circle around to where he had heard movement.  These guys really
were
amateurs.  Probably a little more competent in urban environs, but out of their depth in a rural setting.  They were thugs, plain and simple, and not used to being up against an unseen and deadly enemy.

Without rustling a leaf or stepping on anything that would give his presence away, Logan crept to within a yard of the figure that was squatting in front of him.  He was poised, knife held with the blade horizontal as he readied himself for the kill, when his phone vibrated, and the slight buzzing sound in the otherwise heavy silence gave him away.

Sonny knew in an instant that Logan was behind him.  He reacted, throwing himself sideways and rolling over to face his attacker and shoot him.

Logan went to Sonny’s left.  He knew that it would be easier for a right-hander to sweep the barrel of a weapon to the left.  To train it to his right would take a second to adjust the position of his body to free up the angle.

Sonny attempted to follow the moving target, and loosed off a burst of bullets, praying that he would hit Logan.

Logan felt a burning pain in his right cheek as a round took skin and flesh and grazed bone.  He ducked low, powered himself back to the right and stabbed Sonny in the throat, driving the blade in its full six inches, to depress Sonny’s neck with the hilt as the keen point exited the nape of his neck and broke the soil beneath it.

Sonny made a sound like a startled crow, before Logan drew the knife sideways in his big, barreled fist to slice through the windpipe and shut him up forever.  He watched with no emotion as the young man shuddered for five, six, seven seconds before going limp.

Logan withdrew the blade, wiped both sides of it on Sonny’s jerkin and replaced it in its sheath.  It was a good knife, suitable for chopping wood, cutting rope, opening cans… and killing people with.  He decided it was a keeper.

“Logan,” Martin shouted as loud as he could through his clenched teeth.  “You need to know that one of the women is dead.  Do you want to trade Zack for the other one, or do I tell my man to kill her, slowly?”

“You could be lying, Keno,” Logan said from ten feet behind him.  “Drop the gun and the cane and turn round.”

Martin stiffened in surprise, but did what he was told and let go of the pistol and cane to turn and face Logan.  Saw the gun in his hand, so let his arms hang loosely at his sides.  “Kill me and the woman is history,” he said.

Logan took out his cell and made a call to the throwaway he’d left at the cabin.  Andy answered after two rings.  “Yes,” she said with a hitch in her voice.

“It’s Logan.  What happened?”

A man’s voice replied.  “You don’t need the details, Logan.  Just do whatever Mr. Keno wants you to or I’ll dress this bitch like a dead deer, while she’s still alive.”

“And who might you be?” Logan said.

Billy laughed.  “I’m the guy holding the ace, Logan.  Or maybe the red queen would be more appropriate.  She’s bleeding a little.” And then he disconnected.

Logan said to Martin, “Okay, get back to your soon to be dead thug and tell him to bring her here.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Martin said.  “The only way you’ll get her back in one piece is if you do it my way.  I’ve already told Billy to ignore any further calls.  He’s got his instructions.”

“Which are?”

“To keep the woman alive and take her back to the ranch.”

Logan gave it some thought and then aimed his pistol at Martin’s chest.

“Kill me and there’s no deal,” Martin said.  “Get real, Logan.  There’s a time and a place for everything.”

“Take your phone out of your pocket and toss it over here,” Logan said.

Martin frowned, but slowly withdrew his cell from his coat pocket and threw it to Logan, who picked it out of the air with his left hand, without his gun hand moving a fraction.

“I reckon I need your phone, and I need Slater,” Logan said. “But you’re just dead weight, Keno; not fit for purpose and surplus to requirements.”

Martin saw the steel in Logan’s eyes, and then saw nothing as a bullet pierced his forehead dead center, jerking him backwards against the dumpster, for his body to slide down it into a sitting position, leaving a dark smear on the light-green paintwork.

Logan tucked the gun in the waistband of his pants and walked over to where the now dead giant lay.  He lifted the lid of the dumpster and lowered it back, and then put his arms around the corpse’s chest and heaved it up high enough to tip it over the steel lip, for it to fall in a heap in the mainly empty container. 
A treat for the raccoons
, he thought as he walked back up to where Zack was situated.

Kneeling down and removing the gag from Zack’s mouth, Logan thought through his options before speaking.  “Here’s the current position that we’re in, Slater,” he said.  “You and your hired hands are seriously pissing me off.  Keno and most of the others that came to the cabin are dead, and the only reason that you’re still alive is because some asshole called Billy has got Andrea Corby in his clutches.”

“I can make this right,” Zack said.  “We can walk away from this without any more bloodshed.”

“I doubt that,” Logan said.  “Guys like you don’t have the sense to back off.”

Ten minutes later Zack was once again in the trunk of the car, this time with his wrists and ankles bound and with tape across his mouth.

Logan drove fast, foot to the floor all the way, and was back at the cabin within twenty minutes.  He parked at the front, stepped out and entered the half-open door fast and low, holding the Glock pistol-two handed, searching for a target, even though he knew he wouldn’t find one.

Fran was laid on her side, curled up with her back to him, unmoving.  Logan went to her, knelt down and felt for a pulse.