Quickly Larry marched out from behind the wreck, moving purposefully towards where Hunter lay in the ditch. He’d have to be careful. Hunter was armed. He looked like he was damn good with that pistol too. However, Larry had one big advantage. Hunter wouldn’t be expecting him.

  Larry pointed the gun directly at Hunter’s head.

  ‘Drop your weapons, punk,’ Larry growled.

  Hunter’s face was a picture.

  ‘Now, asshole. I won’t tell you again.’

  Hunter exhaled, but he didn’t put down his guns.

  He swung them quicker than Larry could follow so that both barrels were aiming back at him. Hunter sat up.

  ‘You put down your weapon,’ Hunter said.

  Larry’s smile was slow to form.

  ‘This isn’t the way I want things,’ Larry said.

  ‘Pity,’ Hunter said. ‘It’s the way it is.’

  ‘So what do we do now? Shoot each other?’

  ‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Sure does.’

  But neither of them fired.

  Larry didn’t waver from his target.

  ‘You killed my brother.’

  ‘I did,’ Hunter agreed. ‘He was trying to kill me. So were you, Larry.’

  Larry nodded very slightly. No getting away from it. The thing was, on those occasions he was being paid to kill Hunter. This time it was personal. He edged an inch closer to the prone man.

  ‘I could shoot you now,’ Larry said.

  ‘Not without me shooting you.’

  ‘Is that how you want things to turn out?’

  ‘Personally, I’d rather kill you and get out of this alive, but,’ Hunter smiled thinly, ‘if there’s nothing for it . . . so be it.’

  ‘A fatalist, huh?’

  ‘Realist.’

  ‘So what do we do about it?’

  ‘Start shooting or walk away, Larry.’ Hunter wormed a leg beneath himself. ‘Walk away and we’ll do this another time.’

  ‘You think I’m going to do that? So you can shoot me in the back?’

  ‘That’d be the coward’s way. I’m no coward. Anyway, I owe you, Larry. You just saved my life.’

  ‘I saved you so I could rip you apart at my leisure.’

  ‘I know that. But you aren’t going to get any satisfaction if I put a slug in your head first.’

  Larry considered that. Hunter was right. What if he fired and Hunter got him first? Maybe his goddamn gun would jam. What kind of half-assed revenge would that be? Personally, he didn’t care if he died as long as Hunter died too, but how would he know for sure?

  He squinted along the road at a low dark shape headed their way.

  ‘Another time, then?’

  ‘Another time.’

  Larry stepped back, watching as Hunter came to his feet. He kept his gun trained on Hunter, as Hunter kept both his guns aimed at him. He locked stares with the man. Larry heard the roar of the approaching vehicle. He didn’t look away, but he continued to walk steadily backwards.

  ‘Huffman’s men are coming,’ Larry said. ‘Don’t go getting yourself killed after all this. You’re mine, Hunter.’

  ‘You’ve got a date, Larry.’

  Back at the car wreck, Larry finally turned and jogged towards his Cadillac further along the road. Part of him expected a bullet in the spine, but a more resolute portion of his brain told him that Joe Hunter wasn’t going to shoot him like a dog. There was more to Hunter than that: it was like he said, he wasn’t a coward. Unlike punks like Tito back at the roadhouse, he wasn’t about to try to take Larry from behind. If he’d been that kind of man, he’d have killed him that first time they met in the forest.

  Larry eased into the Cadillac, twisted the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and Larry spun the car in the road. He looked back and could see a vehicle coming, sending up a cloud of dust in its haste.

  ‘Don’t get yourself killed, Hunter,’ he said one last time.

  Then he drove away.

  Chapter 31

  Larry Bolan had been wrong on two major counts. It wasn’t Huffman’s guys who were driving like crazy men towards me. I recognised the shape of the Ford Windstar and knew that it was Rink and Harvey charging to my rescue. And he was wrong when he allowed his bitter desire to hurt me to get in the way of a clean kill.

  I made a big mistake too. I should have shot Bolan the second he turned to run back to the Cadillac. But that isn’t in me. Face to face, I’ll do what must be done to any enemy, but I’m not going to put a bullet in someone running away. It’s a failing for someone engaged in my line of work, but it’s also something I’m damn proud of.

  Holding my guns at my sides, I watched Larry spin the car round in the road. The Cadillac – a classic model with fins and chrome – was like a huge boat on wheels, and I couldn’t imagine where he’d got it. He roared away in a plume of dust. So I turned and watched my friends haring towards me. I stepped out so that I was on the shoulder of the road, and I waved, letting them know I was OK.

  Bringing the Windstar to a halt, both Rink and Harvey lurched out of the vehicle. Rink had a pistol-grip Mossberg shotgun in his hands and Harvey came armed with a Glock 17. Both their faces were set. Intent on killing.

  ‘Easy, guys. It’s all over.’

  ‘The hell, you say?’ Rink surveyed the scene of devastation all around us. Three vehicles destroyed and six men dead. ‘We leave you alone for five minutes and . . . well . . . just look at this! You’re hoggin’ all the fun yourself.’

  The roar of the Cadillac was still audible, even if the car was now out of sight.

  ‘One of them is getting away,’ Harvey said. ‘You think that’s wise?’

  ‘It wasn’t one of Huffman’s men, it was Larry Bolan.’

  ‘Bolan,’ Rink said. ‘Last I heard he was one of Huffman’s men.’

  ‘He isn’t any longer. Believe it or not, Larry just saved my ass.’

  ‘Get outa here!’

  He wasn’t speaking literally, but Rink’s words weren’t such a bad idea. We piled into the Windstar, the guys up front and me in the back. Harvey navigated the road round the wreckage of my Saturn, then headed off at speed following in the same direction Larry had gone. Back to Pilot Point.

  I told them what had happened, ending with Bolan’s reluctance to shoot me when he had the chance.

  ‘So he’s looking for a showdown?’ Rink said.

  ‘I suppose I owe him.’

  ‘For killing his brother?’ Harvey asked, incredulous. He caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘That’s crazy thinking, man.’

  ‘I was thinking how I’d be if someone had killed my brother,’ I said. ‘Or either of you. I don’t blame Larry for wanting a one-on-one with me.’

  ‘You don’t owe him anything,’ Rink said. ‘There’s no honour in the man, Hunter. You know that.’

  ‘I know. But that doesn’t change anything.’ I laughed at the absurdity. ‘Larry saved my life. I agreed to give him a chance at what he wants. You know how much I stand by my word.’

  ‘The truth, Hunter?’

  Giving him a sheepish grin, I said, ‘OK. I want him too.’

  ‘The guy’s a goddamn freak of nature.’ Coming from Rink, that statement meant something. ‘Why’d you want to fight somethin’ like that?’

  I considered my reasons. It was perhaps misguided, but since Larry had manhandled me back in the workshop where Trent died, I’d been feeling a little inadequate. ‘I have to prove something to myself.’

  ‘Man . . .’ Rink groaned. ‘That means if he kicks your ass, I’m gonna have to fight him.’

  Rink has an absurd sense of humour at times. But I wasn’t laughing.

  We drove through semi-rural areas where human habitation was more apparent, and picked up South Highway 377 toward Pilot Point. All along the way I watched for Larry Bolan’s wheeled warship, but apparently he’d headed off elsewhere.

  We cut through Pilot Point without stopping, passing a bank infamous for having been robbed by Bonnie and Clyde, so Harvey said, then followed a minor road to our destination: a fishing cabin hidden from the road by a stand of live oak on the bank of Ray Roberts Lake. The cabin was totally utilitarian, a staging area for the continuation of our plan to get Kate back. ‘Have either of you any connections here in Texas?’ I asked.

  Rink shrugged a negative, but Harvey bobbed his head.

  What had recently gone down had spoiled my chances of spiriting Kate from under Huffman’s nose. He’d be on high alert now. Our next incursion on his land would have to be planned. And it should be soon, before Huffman could marshal his forces against me.

  ‘What’re the chances of you getting hold of a couple of rifles, Harvey?’

  ‘Could get my hands on as many rifles as you want,’ Harvey said. ‘But I guess you’re thinking of specific types?’

  I told him exactly what I would like.

  Harvey shook his head. ‘How soon do you want them?’

  ‘How about right now?’

  Harvey clicked his fingers like a magician. But then he smiled slowly and said, ‘Sorry, Hunter. I’m good, but not that good. Leave it with me, I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Got a plan?’ Rink asked me.

  ‘Yeah, we give Huffman hell.’

  Chapter 32

  Falling back to a safe position, Larry Bolan took the loop road round the city of Denton, passing the CH Collins Football Stadium, while he considered his next move.

  It didn’t take much debating: Joe Hunter must die in agony.

  Resolute, he blinked at the scenery and realised he was now heading back west on University Drive towards Highway 35.

  On his right was a burger joint – as good a place as any to stop. Not that he wanted food: he was looking for a payphone.

  Pulling in, he checked out the other vehicles in the lot. There was a mix of cars and vans, but his Cadillac would stand out if left in the open. Sooner or later he would change the plates, but he was in no rush. He doubted anyone back at Minnie’s would report the vehicle missing. Hell, they wouldn’t even report Tito missing. Still, he parked it at the back, next to some dumpsters. There was a No Parking sign. Like he cared. Then he got out of the Cadillac and stretched expansively.

  He was wearing the overcoat he’d brought from Little Fork, but he was still reluctant to shed it. The coat camouflaged the guns in his waistband. He pulled it closer to his body as he walked round the side of the building and into a cool breeze. He saw what he wanted: a booth attached to the outside wall. He searched his pockets for change, fed quarters into the machine.

  The telephone rang a dozen times before it was answered.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘That you, boss?’

  ‘Larry?’ Huffman asked. ‘Larry Bolan?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s me.’

  There was a pause. Larry knew that those empty seconds were very important. At the end of them he would know if this was a mistake. Perhaps the biggest mistake of all.

  ‘You survived?’ Huffman sounded pleased, but that meant nothing. He always seemed happy and relaxed, whatever murder he was planning. ‘I thought Joe Hunter had killed you along with Aitken and Wallace.’

  Larry smiled. He was in the clear: Huffman was unaware of the fates of his co-conspirators. Neither had the pilot filled Huffman in before he had brought down the helicopter. Larry wasn’t averse to letting Hunter take the crap for all those deaths.

  ‘I was trapped under wreckage when the bastard sent my truck into the restaurant. I was knocked out. When I woke up I was too late to save Aitken or the judge. By the time I got my act together, everyone had already gone. So I did what I thought best: I followed Hunter.’

  ‘You followed him here?’

  ‘Only as far as the airport, but then I got held up by a blizzard. But I guessed he’d be heading your way.’

  ‘You’re in Texas, then?’

  ‘Just down the road a piece,’ Larry said, not about to divulge his location just yet.

  ‘That’s great, Larry. I could do with you here with me. Hunter’s around.’

  ‘You know where?’

  ‘No, but he can’t be far away. Come in, Larry. Help me. I want a good man at my back.’

  ‘What about those others you were bringing in?’

  ‘Yes, they’re all here. I called them back from Little Fork.’ Huffman grunted. ‘But forget them, Larry. You know you were always my favourite.’

  But you didn’t care for Trent, did you, you bastard? Larry thought.

  ‘You still want to kill Joe Hunter, right?’

  ‘I’ll be there in a couple of hours, boss.’

  ‘That’s great, Larry, just great.’

  Larry hung up.

  Yeah, just great, he thought. But not for you, boss. If you get in the way, I’ll kill you too.

  Chapter 33

  The lake looked eternal, like it was a billion years old, but it had only been created back in the early 1980s. It got its name from the commissioner who’d backed the plan to bring water to the prairie: Ray Roberts himself. I’d never heard of the man, but he got my respect. The lake was beautiful. The water was very still, the surface almost glass-like and reflecting the cerulean heavens. Oak trees hugged the shore and birds called in the treetops. The water made a gentle lapping noise, which was soothing after all the mayhem.

  It was a nice place for a couple to take a romantic stroll. I wondered what it would be like with Kate beside me. Except she was enduring hell as Huffman’s captive.

  I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets, as I watched a couple of youths in a rowing boat. I could hear their laughter echoing across the water. I wondered if those two boys had the same strength of friendship that I shared with Rink and, increasingly, with Harvey Lucas. If one of them fell overboard, would the other dive in to save him? I decided he would. That’s what people did for their friends. I returned to the cabin, determined to get started.

  The evening sky had turned to molten brass. Rink had lit a lamp in the room. Plus, Harvey was back. Between them they were lugging a large wooden crate with a pack of supplies balanced on top that they dumped on the bed.

  ‘I couldn’t get us Dragunovs,’ Harvey said, referring to the cream of sniper rifles, ‘but these should suffice.’

  He cracked open the lid of the box and I saw two US Army M24 bolt action sniper rifles. I eyed the guns with appreciation. The stocks were a Kevlar and graphite composite, and they were fitted with Leupold-Stewens M3 Ultra telescopic sights with built-in compensators for bullet drop. I was familiar with the US Army issue rifles and knew that they could be relied upon up to a range of approximately one thousand yards. They had an internal magazine that took five .308 Winchester rounds. Good guns in anyone’s estimation.

  ‘Suffice, my ass!’ Rink lifted one of the M24s from the crate and snuggled the butt against his shoulder. He swung the rifle round and aimed at an imaginary target at the far end of the room. At that distance a steel-jacketed round would punch a hole through the wall and sail off across the lake and probably still kill a man on the far side. ‘I prefer these to the Russian rifle, hands down.’

  ‘You are good,’ I told Harvey.

  ‘Told you I was,’ Harvey said, flashing white teeth. Then, growing more serious, he added, ‘I’ve got these on loan, guys. I promised I’d return them after we’re done. Anything happens to me, I need you to get them back to their rightful owner.’ He named a sergeant from the Joint Reserve Base at Fort Worth.

  ‘The JRB is a naval air station, isn’t it? Why’d they need sniper rifles on a naval base?’

  ‘The SEALS fly out of there sometimes,’ Harvey said. That was all the clarification I needed.

  Our next assault on Quicksilver Ranch would be like invading a fortified military base. We’d be outnumbered and outgunned. And we didn’t have the luxury of a human shield the way Huffman did. So, it wasn’t going to be a head-on attack. Stealth – and the long rifles – would be our greatest assets.

  But it was looking like an almost impossible task.

  Then serendipity struck.

  The phone in my pocket vibrated.

  I studied the screen before answering. It wasn’t Imogen.

  ‘That was some show you put on earlier,’ Huffman said. ‘I only wish I’d been there to see it.’

  I flicked the phone on to speaker so that my friends could hear. They stood very still, not giving any hint that Huffman had an audience.

  ‘I wish you’d been there, too,’ I said. ‘I’d have killed you and got things over with.’

  ‘Ah, but that would’ve been a let-down, wouldn’t it? Where’s your sense of the dramatic, Hunter?’

  ‘I’m not the type for dramatics. I just get the job done.’

  ‘So you have Imogen Ballard?’

  I didn’t need to answer. He knew that I didn’t have her.

  ‘You do still want the lovely Kate back, don’t you? She’s a fine woman, that one. And loyal. Do you know what it took to force her to admit that you had her telephone, and then to give me the number?’

  ‘If you’ve hurt her . . .’

  Huffman laughed.

  His voice growing a shade softer, he said, ‘The sooner you bring Imogen to me, the sooner you get Kate back. That minimises the opportunity for Larry Bolan to harm her any more.’

  ‘Larry Bolan?’

  ‘Yes, my big friend is here. He hates you, you know. But that’s understandable. After what you did to his little brother, he wants to eat your heart.’

  ‘Trent was a psychopath.’

  ‘Can’t deny that. He was one crazy-eyed son of a bitch. But he was still Larry’s little brother. You can’t blame him for hurting Kate to get back at you.’

  ‘If you want Imogen, you’ll stop him, Huffman.’

 

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