The thousand dollar bull.., p.1
THE THOUSAND DOLLAR BULLET: A Colt Ryder Thriller, page 1
THE THOUSAND DOLLAR BULLET
A Colt Ryder Thriller
J.T. Brannan
Grey Arrow Publishing
Copyright © 2022 J.T. Brannan
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
For Jakub and Mia;
and my parents, for their help and support
The important thing to know about an assassination . . . is not who fired the shot, but who paid for the bullet
Eric Ambler
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
THE THOUSAND DOLLAR MAN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
Books In This Series
Prologue
The air whipped over the exposed skin of my face as I hurtled down the mountain at close to forty miles per hour. Hell, I could feel the wind buffeting my entire body, even though the heavy winter clothing I was wearing; but the thrill of the rapid descent more than made up for any discomfort I might have been experiencing.
I was skiing down the pristine slopes at Sunlight Mountain Resort, just up the road from the better-known – and much more expensive – resort of Aspen. It wasn’t just the price that appealed though, it was also a lot less crowded than its neighbor, which suited me just fine. Less queues at the lifts, and nobody to get in your way when you were careening down the hills at superspeed.
Another benefit was that the people that worked there were more liable to turn a blind eye to hundred-and-fifty-pound dogs snowboarding down their slopes, especially if they were slipped a little extra cash.
I glanced to my left and saw the snow churning up around my best buddy as he ploughed down the mountain at the only speed he knew – as fast as he could possibly go. He was on a special snowboard that I’d picked up at a store in town, and after a few practice sessions on the easier slopes – where he developed his special technique of staying on the board for as long as possible and then jumping off into the snow when it looked like he was going to crash – we’d headed higher up the mountain for more serious fun and games.
I was forced to follow his direct path, foregoing the classic Alpine style of gliding forwards and backwards across the slope and instead I just kept my tucked position and flew down toward the bottom. Not terribly technical perhaps, but it damn sure was fun.
After the warmer climes of LA, the sub-zero temperatures of Colorado came as a bracing change. But, as the name of the resort suggested, the sun was still shining, and the air was a beautiful crisp blue with not a cloud in the sky. This place allegedly got three hundred days of sun a year, and you had to wonder where all the damn snow same from. Maybe it just magically appeared during the night, when everyone was asleep?
Whereas Kane had no option about how he got down the mountain – a snowboard was tricky enough, never mind trying to operate on a pair of skis – I’d decided to go the classic route. I hadn’t done a lot of snowboarding and felt a lot more comfortable with skis. Even though I’d been brought up in Denver – I’d been born in Wyoming but had gone to live with my grandparents after my mom and dad were both killed in a car crash – I’d never done much skiing in the surrounding mountains. It just wasn’t in our budget. Skiing is an expensive hobby, and we’d never had much money. I spent most of my time boxing at the local Y during my teens instead.
It had been in the Rangers where I’d first learned to ski, and the experience had been arduous, to say the least. It was part of our mountain and arctic warfare package, where we’d learned to survive, travel and fight in the most severe winter conditions imaginable. That initial training had been at Fort McCoy in Wisconsin, a two week course that had seen us spend seven days out in the field learning to downhill and cross-country ski along with the use of snowshoes and ahkio sleds – for dragging heavy loads across the snow – as well as setting up cold weather shelters. We’d used ten-man Artic tents, but we’d also learned to build igloos and underground snow shelters. Then we’d learned how to survive cold water shock, by voluntarily immersing ourselves in freezing water, in holes cut through the ice of a local lake. The whole experience had been hellish, but it had taught me very quickly how to move across snow-covered terrain. I’d done more advanced courses over the years, but it wasn’t until I’d done a spell of adventure training right here in Colorado – where we’d been allowed to ski just for the fun of it – that I’d discovered how enjoyable it could be. When you didn’t have to ski cross-country with an eighty-pound rucksack on your back and dragging a three-hundred-pound sled behind you, it turned out that I actually liked it. But even though I dabbled with the snowboard from time to time, when it came to R&R, I generally kept with what I knew best and stayed with the skis. I’d never quite got used to the feeling of having both of my feet anchored to something, and felt I had more control with skis than I did with a board.
Kane’s own skills on the board were necessarily limited – he wasn’t clipped in like a human would be, his low center of gravity and innate sense of balance allowing him to ride it down in relative safety while just resting his paws on top, but that also meant that steering was problematic. The most he could manage was to turn the board using his bodyweight as the slope evened out at the bottom, which allowed him to come to a semi-graceful stop before ploughing into the barriers, or the few people waiting for the lifts.
Suddenly, I could hear noise coming from over to my left, even above the wind whistling in my ears, and my head snapped over to check out what it was.
I saw them immediately, a crew of snowboarders headed toward our slope from another, steeper trail to the east. They were whooping and hollering and generally having a good old time of it; the only thing was, if they didn’t moderate their speed or angle of approach, they were going to plough right into Kane, who would be unable to maneuver out of the way. Etiquette gave us right of way – we were on the main slope, and they were joining us – and I hoped they were going to adhere to the convention like everyone else.
Moments passed as we traveled further down the slope, and I watched as the group continued to shout and yell and scream like they were having the time of their lives, while they refused to slow down or change course. Had they even seen us? My mind raced as I decided what to do – I could slow down or sweep off to one side or another, but Kane was stuck to his single course, headed straight down the slope at speed, and a terrible feeling hit me as the seconds ticked down, and the collision began to seem inevitable.
I could see that Kane had made the same calculations as me, was wondering what to do – if he threw himself clear, he might be okay despite the speed, due to his low center of gravity and the fact that the ground wasn’t that far away. But how far down the mountain would he roll? And would anyone else collide with him as a result?
I started to drift across into a blocking position, to protect Kane if necessary, but time was running out and at the speeds we were all moving, there was a limit to what I could do; but still I drifted eastward, cutting an oblique angle across the slope to help Kane out if he needed it. I glanced around as I went, glad to see that there were no other skiers or snowboarders close to us; there were a few bodies back up the mountain, but they wouldn’t be close for a little while yet.
In the next moment, the first man was there, right next to Kane; it was literally only fractions of a second until impact, and I launched myself toward him, to help block his fall down the mountainside. My boots snapped out of my skis as my body fell, and Kane skipped away off his snowboard; but the impact never happened, as first the lead man, and then his howling buddies, pulled a tight turn right next to us, spraying the air with fine powdered snow, covering us in a veritable blizzard as they cut the corner tight and headed off down the mountain, laughing their asses off.
“Stay off our mountain, dog fucker!” I heard one of the men call; but I couldn’t see anything now, as I tumbled down the slope with Kane, our bodies entwined as we both tried to arrest our all-too-rapid descent. The men hadn’t hit us, but the damage had been done anyway, and we bounced further down the slope until we’d plowed a big enough snow drift to act as a brake, and finally came to a merciful stop, about fifty yards down the mountain from where we’d desperately tried to avoid being hit by those sonsofbitches on their snowboards.
We lay there for a few moments as we tried to get our equilibrium back, but I knew we had to move – pretty soon, those other people would be down here, and I didn’t want to get hit by them instead, after our recent narrow escape.
I moved to my knees, then pushed myself to my feet, the snow deep around us. I looked back up the mountain, dreading to see how far we’d have to hike back up in order to retrieve our kit. But to my surprise – and delight – the first thing I saw was a lone skier, carrying a second set of skis and a snowboard, headed our way.
The skier slid to a stop in front of us, dug the skis and board into the snow, and removed their goggles.
Damn, our savior was not only a super nice person, but she was pretty as hell too. She smiled at me and looked down at Kane.
“Hey,” she said, “is he okay?”
“Yeah, I think he’s going to be fine. Thanks for the assist,” I said, pointing to the gear she’d retrieved for us.
“Well, sure as hell beats hiking back up there for it, huh? I saw what those assholes did, and figured I better help out.”
“Thanks again,” I said. “Let me make it up to you, okay? Let me buy you a drink at the bar down at the bottom, what do you say?”
“I say okay,” she said with a smile, as she replaced the goggles over her face. “If you can beat me down there.”
And with that she was gone.
“Come on boy,” I said, digging Kane’s board out of the snow and putting it down for him, then pulling out my skis and digging my boots back in, “let’s not keep her waiting, huh?”
“You had a head start,” I said, as I reached the bottom of the slope a good twenty yards behind her.
“Sore loser?” she asked, and I shrugged.
“It’s been said before.”
“Well, lucky for you that your dog just pipped me to the post. And seeing as he probably doesn’t have any cash on him, I guess that means you get to buy me a drink anyway.”
I ruffled the fur on Kane’s head. “I knew I keep you around for a reason,” I said, and the girl smiled.
“He help you pick up a lot of women?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“This is the first time,” I said, deadpan. “Honest.”
She laughed, and extended a hand. “My name’s Carly,” she said.
“Colt,” I said as I shook it. “And this is Kane.”
“He’s quite the snowboarder,” she said, as we picked our way across the trail to the nearest bar. I carried Kane’s board as he trotted along beside us.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “he doesn’t do too bad, does he?”
We got to the bar and left our gear outside; but before we’d even opened the door, I heard them. Our friends from the slope were already inside, carrying on the party.
Carly heard them too, looked through the window and let out a sigh. “Your buddies from the slope?”
“Looks like.”
“Come on,” she said, “let’s go somewhere else.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “This place looks nice.”
“Wait a minute, you’re not going to do anything dumb, are you? There was, like, six of those guys, from what I could see.”
“Seven,” I corrected her, as I pushed open the door. “And trust me, I won’t do anything dumb.”
Carly paused, probably wondering what the hell she was getting herself into; and then she sighed, and followed me and Kane inside.
The men were occupying one corner of the bar. Five of them were sat around a long wooden table, while the other two were at the bar, ordering drinks. At first, they didn’t see us come in, but I knew that would change in the very near future.
The question was, what was I going to do? Obviously, a large part of me wanted to just march over there and stomp their faces in for what they’d done. They’d probably just thought it was a joke, but we could have been killed back on the mountain, and that made the joke a lot less funny. And it had clearly been intentional too, from what they’d shouted afterward. They needed to be taught a lesson, or who knew what they would do next?
But then again, there I was with a pretty lady, about to have a nice get-to-know-you drink. Why spoil it?
But then again, why hadn’t I followed her suggestion to go to another bar?
The answer was pretty obvious really.
I liked teaching people lessons.
But I wasn’t going to be too overt about it; I didn’t want to appear to be the aggressor – either to Carly, or to any of the other customers who might later make statements to the cops. No, I wasn’t going to start anything; but I also knew that as soon as they saw us, they’d make what happened next close to inevitable.
“Go and get us a seat,” I said to Carly, “and I’ll get the drinks. What do you want?”
“White wine,” she said, still looking a little uncertain about us being there. “A big one.”
“You got it,” I said, and headed for the bar, while Kane escorted Carly over to a table. I noticed that she chose one far away from the group of snowboarders.
I got to the bar just as the two men from the slope turned around, drinks trays in their hands filled with beer bottles and shot glasses.
“Well if it ain’t our friend, Dog Boy,” the man on the right said with a grin. “No hard feelings, huh?”
“I guess not,” I said. “But you guys ought to be a bit more careful, you know?”
The first guy grunted. “Whatever.”
“Where is that fucking mutt of yours anyway?” asked the guy on the left. “I hope he didn’t get hurt.” He grinned. “That would break my heart.”
“Oh, he’s just fine,” I said. “Luckily for you.”
“What the fuck did you say?” the second man said.
“I said, it’s lucky for you that he wasn’t hurt,” I said, keeping my voice low so that nobody else could hear us. “Because if he was, we wouldn’t be talking right now. You’d be wearing those bottles over your fucking heads.”
“Son of a bitch,” the guy on the left said, dropping his tray of drinks with a huge clatter and throwing a punch right at me.
Which was exactly what I’d wanted.
Now the first punch had been thrown, I was in the clear to defend myself.
The sound of the glass breaking on the floor had made everyone look around, and all eyes were on us as the man launched his fist at my face.
I reared back slightly to take the edge off, but let the shot land – now I was definitely in the clear – and although the punch stung a little, it wasn’t enough to do any real damage. But I staggered back a little anyway, for dramatic effect; and then when the distance was right, I kicked out with my boot and hit the second tray of drinks from underneath, knocking it all over the first guy before he’d had a chance to react to what his friend had started. The eyes of the man who’d punched me snapped over at the falling glass, and as he was distracted, I rushed back in and slammed a straight right onto his jawline. He went straight down, and then I pivoted on my heel and struck the other guy with a perfect left hook that took him out for the count.
Two down, I thought as I turned toward the table in the corner, and five to go.
The whole bar was in uproar, but I ignored the rest of the packed establishment and focused my attention in the direction the next threat would be coming from.
Sure enough, the five other members of the party were busy scrambling my way, almost fighting each other to get to me. There was only a fairly narrow gap between the tables though, and they were being funneled single-file on their way toward me.
The first guy reached me, and I buried a hard front kick high on his chest that sent him crashing back into the next guy in line, the back of his head connecting with his friend’s face. Both men collapsed down onto the floor, and I stamped down into the nearest body and then propelled myself through the gap in a Thai-style superman punch that hit the third man in line square in the face. His nose exploded in a bloody fountain, as I landed on the upturned face of the second man in line, who’d been brought down by his friend when I’d launched that first kick. If he hadn’t been out if it before, he definitely was now.
