Slash and Burn (6 page)

‘Who are you?’ Larry asked.

‘I could ask you the same thing, but let’s not fool one another. We’d be wasting each other’s time, wouldn’t we?’

Larry rolled his shoulders. The blood from his scalp was making a trail down his spine. ‘Guess so. One thing I do know is that you’re not a cop.’

‘Didn’t claim to be,’ said the man putting the gun under Larry’s ear. ‘So I’ve no qualms about killing you.’

Larry didn’t consider himself a coward. But he didn’t relish dying with a bullet in his ear or being left in the forest as crow bait. ‘You’re not going to shoot me, buddy.’

‘I’m not?’

‘No, the sound would bring the others running. I guess you’re going to have to let me live.’

‘For now.’ The gun came down on the nape of Larry’s neck. Unconsciousness wasn’t instantaneous, allowing one last thought to flutter through Larry’s mind. No actual words, just the knowledge that he would wake up again, and when he did he was going to make this man wish that he had killed him outright.

Chapter 8

‘Kate,’ I whispered. ‘I told you to wait for me.’

She was standing in the shadows ten feet above me, staring down at the huge man lying at my feet. Her left hand was at her throat, but I could see that the hand holding her Glock was steady enough.

‘I’m a cop, Joe. I’m not used to being told what to do by civilians,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I could hear the others getting closer. What was I supposed to do?’

‘You should have done as I asked,’ I told her. But at the same time, I couldn’t be mad with her. Her independent streak had actually helped me out. Her approach had kept the big man distracted while I sneaked up on him. Plus, I didn’t have to backtrack up the cliff to fetch her. ‘Never mind. Come on, we’re getting out of here.’

Kate came down the steep path at a jog. I caught her in the crook of my elbow and she pressed her left palm to my chest. For a long second our eyes locked, before Kate blinked and turned away. She used the Glock to point at the unconscious giant.

‘Who is he?’

‘Don’t know. But he’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.’

‘He’s only knocked out? Well, at least you didn’t shoot him, this time.’

‘Maybe I should have.’

Kate pressed herself away from me. I watched as she stooped and patted the big man down. ‘No identification. Just like the others.’

When I’d killed the two up at Imogen’s house the idea that they’d come without any identification had been concerning. I was worried that they might be professional hit men but I’d quickly come to the conclusion that they were rank amateurs. Looking down at this big man, I decided that he wasn’t as inexperienced as the others, but he still wasn’t a trained assassin. Very dangerous though. I didn’t doubt that he had a way about him when it came to extreme violence.

We hurried down on to the road and I looked along the curve to where our Ford was lying among the trees. The darkness didn’t allow a clear look at the 4 × 4 but I didn’t think it would be much use to us now. Instead I looked towards the vehicle this man had come in. I hadn’t realised what a garish monstrosity the pick-up actually was.

‘Subtle,’ Kate noted. ‘It’ll stick out like a sore thumb.’

‘We aren’t going to be in it for long. All we need is to get away from here and then we can ditch it for something else.’

She shrugged, moving closer to it.

‘Careful, Kate. There could be others nearby.’

‘I know all about approaching vehicles, Joe. It comes with the job.’

Following her, I scanned the ridge above us. The men who’d been chasing us had fallen quiet. Their whoops and yells had been replaced by the silence that men adopt when they are in fear of impending death. As far as they knew, I was hiding in the forest and could open up on them with a barrage of bullets at any second.

Kate checked out the interior of the Dodge Ram while I covered her. When she nodded that it was clear, I quickly came and clambered in. I placed the liberated Magnum on the dash and then pushed the keys into the ignition. Kate slid into the passenger seat, her eyes doing a scan of the insides. She was in full cop mode. She opened the glovebox, but found nothing interesting. Nothing of worth in the door pocket either. When she pulled down the sun visor, a small pamphlet fell into her outstretched hand.

‘Look at this, Joe.’ We were in shadows, so I couldn’t immediately make out what it was.

‘What is it?’ I fired up the engine.

‘A menu.’

‘We don’t have time to eat.’

‘From a restaurant in Little Fork,’ she went on, as though I hadn’t spoken.

‘What about it?’ I spun the monster truck in the road.

‘That brute you knocked out – or any of those other good ol’ boys – do you think any of them are the type to dine on fancy French cuisine?’

Taking a closer look at the menu, I saw that it was an expensive glossy brochure depicting an equally expensive and glossy restaurant. Le Cœur de la Ville. She was right: these men looked the type to prefer beer and a five-doller bucket of spiced wings, not the à la carte menu that the brochure offered. Not that the presence of the menu meant anything specific; for all I knew, the big man had fancy tastes that exceeded his bar-room brawler image.

‘What are you getting at, Kate?’ I glanced over to where I’d left the unconscious man in the trees. There was no sign of movement but I heard the crack of a rifle. Whoever fired at us was a pretty poor shot. Then we were round the curve and out of the line of fire.

‘Last time I visited with Imogen we went to that restaurant for a meal. I told you that Imogen is very good with computers, didn’t I? Well, I remember she was doing some work for the restaurant, developing a website for them, supplying the publicity photographs and digital graphics.’

I didn’t see where this train of thought was leading, other than yes, it was a coincidence.

‘After that visit, I spoke to her on the phone. She was really mad.’

‘What about?’

‘Apparently, prior to her finishing the work the restaurant changed owners. The new owner let her go, and then refused to compensate her for the time she’d spent on the material she’d developed. Imogen lodged a complaint through her lawyer.’

‘I hardly think that anyone is going to try to kill her because of a bill for . . . what would it be, a couple thousand dollars at most?’

Kate considered my words. ‘It was just a thought.’

‘It’s about the best lead we have,’ I conceded. Then I slapped the steering wheel of the truck. ‘Next to this thing. I’ll get Rink to run it through the system and see who the vehicle’s registered to. We find out who owns it, it could lead us to the person who sent him after Imogen.’

We were clear of any pursuit now, and I noticed that Kate had finally relaxed enough to put her Glock back inside her purse. I kept the SIG handy – just in case. Plus there was the Magnum on the dash if it became necessary in the future to take out anything as large as its owner.

Kate had her eyes closed. She was chewing her lip again, and I couldn’t help glancing at her in appreciation.

‘You did OK back there.’

‘For a cop, you mean?’

‘I’m not a cop hater, Kate. It’s just that . . .’

‘Yeah, you already said: I cramp your style.’

I chose not to pursue the line of conversation. Anyway, I’d noted her smile.

‘Where now?’ she asked.

‘Little Fork.’

‘Isn’t that likely to be the town where these men are from?’

‘Yeah. So they won’t expect us to go there. Besides, I want to find out who they work for.’

‘We should go to the police.’

‘Yes, we should.’

She looked at me, expectant.

‘But we’re not going to,’ I finished.

‘We have to report what happened at Imogen’s house. There were men waiting to kill us, Joe. The police need to know what’s going on.’

‘All that will happen is that we’ll end up in cuffs. Small town like Little Fork, they won’t have the facilities to deal with something like this. Likely we’d be sent to Frankfort or Louisville for questioning. We won’t find Imogen while we’re locked up in a prison cell.’

‘Where’d you get
your
low impression of the police from?’

‘Experience,’ I told her. ‘We have the same goal most of the time. It’s just our methods differ. Whenever I’ve dealt with cops in the past, it’s been like banging my head on a brick wall.’

‘You’re forgetting that I’m a cop. I know how things work. I can do all the talking, Joe. They don’t even have to know that you’re involved, if that’s the way you want it.’

‘So you’re going to take the rap for shooting four men?’

‘Some of the bullets that killed the man from upstairs will come back to my gun. I’m going to be up in front of an IA panel whether you’re involved or not.’

‘You told me that the gun wasn’t police issue.’

‘I said it wasn’t NYPD issue. It’s still registered to me. All they need do is a ballistics check.’

‘Not unless it was previously test fired and the rifling marks were added to a register. If it hasn’t they’d need the gun to check against. No gun, no match. Lose it, Kate. Throw it in the next river we pass.’

‘No.’

‘So tell them nothing. They still don’t know who we are – even if they did, do you think those men intend to lodge a complaint?’

‘They have to. Four of their friends are dead.’

I waved my hand at the forest. ‘They’ll get dumped out there someplace.’

‘Like they were probably planning to do to us,’ she finished for me. She sighed. ‘We have to say something, Joe. We can’t just let this thing go on.’

‘We’ll say something once we’ve found Imogen, not before. And the only way we’ll do that is to go speak with the people responsible for making her disappear.’

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I don’t like it but we’ll do it your way.’

Chapter 9

‘You haven’t found her yet?’

‘No. But I’m on it.’

‘You know better than anyone what will happen if she makes this public.’

‘Don’t concern yourself, Wallace,’ Robert Huffman said. ‘Just keep signing the papers and rubber-stamping them in the correct place and
leave the rest to me
.’

The man referred to as Wallace sat back in his chair and looked across his desk at Huffman; he knew not to argue. He scowled at the man’s cigar hanging idly from the hand drooping over the arm of the chair, waiting for the overload of ash to drop to his hardwood floor. The image summed up Huffman’s attitude to everything. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Leave it to me.

‘We could lose everything, Huffman.’

Huffman waved down his accomplice with a gesture of the cigar. The ash still clung tenaciously to the tip. ‘Stop whining. I’ve got the Bolans on it.’

A third man in the room snorted. ‘The Bolans couldn’t find their asses if you didn’t give them directions.’

‘They’re doing more to find Ballard than your people,’ Huffman pointed out.

‘My hands are tied.’

‘So leave the woman to me and keep your criticism to yourself.’ Huffman aimed the cigar at the man. ‘You do remember that I don’t take criticism lightly? Or do I have to remind you?’

‘I’m only saying, is all,’ said the third man, folding his arms over his barrel chest like a petulant child. The colour drained from his face as Huffman stared at him.

‘What about these others that have showed up?’ Wallace asked. ‘The Bolans didn’t seem to handle them too well.’

‘They were hampered by the fools
he
rounded up,’ said Huffman, aiming the cigar at the third man. ‘That’s what comes of using amateurs. We should have left it to the Bolans.’

‘If they’d handled things right in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this position now,’ said the barrel-chested man. ‘They should have killed Devaney quietly; not tortured him to death so half the county could hear his screams.’

‘That was necessary to our plans. Or have you forgotten that as well?’

‘I remember. But I still think Trent’s a goddamn liability.’

Huffman placed the cigar between his teeth. Then, moving so fast that he’d stood up before the barrel-chested man was aware of, he caught a handful of the man’s tie. With his other hand he swiped up a cut-throat razor so it was a hair’s breadth from the man’s eyes. Huffman peered over the edge of the blade, chewing on the cigar. ‘The way I see it, there’s only one liability here.’

Wallace knew better than to stand up. ‘Easy, Huffman. He’s only voicing all our concerns.’

‘No. He’s sticking his nose in
my
business.’ Huffman reversed the razor so the sharp edge touched the bridge of the man’s nose. ‘I’ve a good mind to cut the goddamn thing off.’

‘We still need him.’

‘Yeah, he’s still a handy tool, I guess.’

He slowly released his grip on the tie and the man quickly backed away. His face was white and there was a smear of blood on his lip where he’d bitten through it.