Dead Men's Harvest (13 page)

Blackness fell like winter’s dark shade.

Chapter 18

Over the years I’ve been subjected to the effects of drugs – a prerequisite for one trained to resist torture – but there wasn’t much I could do to fight the dosage given to me by Baron. The drug took hold of me but its effect was dulled slightly so I didn’t experience the absolute oblivion that comes on a surgeon’s table; at the extremes of my consciousness I was aware of movement. Nothing that I could define, simply hands lifting me into the back of the van, followed by an interminable rumble and shudder as I was driven along uneven roads. At some point I must have been transferred to a helicopter, as even through the fog I recognised the thrum and slice of rotor blades cutting the air.

Baron administered further doses of sodium pentathol throughout the journey and I remained in a hazy state until he jabbed me with another needle. Whatever antidote I was given, the effect was instantaneous.

I came to, fully awake, feeling strangely invigorated, propped between Charters and the one who’d slammed my head on the floor of the van earlier. The cuffs remained in place. Baron was sitting next to the pilot but Petoskey was nowhere to be seen. Probably he’d crawled back under his rock.

‘Where’s Siggy?’ I had to shout to make myself heard over the roar of the rotors. No one answered me, so I changed tack. ‘Where are we?’

From his place in the co-pilot’s seat, Baron nodded across fields swept by moonlight. Beyond were trees, silvered by the winter moon, and it struck me that I’d been unconscious for most of the day. The trees bordered a river valley. We were looking to the east, and by the mild tang of brine, and the emptiness of the sky beyond the trees, I gathered that we were somewhere on the Eastern Seaboard.

Baron wasn’t one for hints but that didn’t matter as, by now, I’d put two and two together.

‘You’re an ex-spook,’ I said to Baron. Now I knew how Hendrickson had the intelligence available to find Walter’s hidden cabin in the Adirondacks. ‘How did you wind up working for a couple of punks like Hendrickson and Petoskey?’

He had to lean towards me so I could hear his reply. ‘Money. Simple as that.’

‘I didn’t think it was from a sense of duty.’

‘Duty doesn’t pay as well as Hendrickson does. Anyway, you’ve got a nerve. You’ve agreed to give up your brother for the sake of a friend. Where’s the duty there?’

‘It’s not something I want to think about,’ I told him. ‘Even if I tell you where John is, there’s still the possibility he’ll get away. The way things are Rink has no chance.’

‘Even so,’ Baron said, ‘you surprise me.’

‘I love my brother. But we’re not
that
close.’

‘How much do you value the life of your best friend?’

‘Why do you even bother asking? He’d die for me.’

The helicopter took us north along a rugged coastline that alternated between dense woodland and open bays dotted with beachfront houses. The sea was as smooth as stretched silk, inviting a skimmed stone to pock the surface with concentric circles. On any other occasion I might have appreciated the beauty. Now my mood was too foul, engaged as it was in contemplating the bloody and violent deaths of my fellow fliers.

As I’d been deliberately wedged between Charters and the other, my view to the front was limited to snatches through the partially opened partition that led to the crew cabin. Baron had turned away, conversing over a satellite phone, but I had no hope of hearing anything above the thrum of the blades and whistle of wind. To my gruff chaperones, I said, ‘So where are we heading, boys?’

Charters grunted, touched the lump I’d given him on his forehead. He adjusted himself in his seat, none too careful about where he placed his bony bits. When I didn’t respond, he nudged me again as he jiggled into a more comfortable position.

Looking him up and down, I asked, ‘Are you always such an arsehole, Charters, or do you feel you need the practice?’

‘Practice makes perfect.’ He lifted his elbow and slammed it across my forehead, taking payback in full. My skull felt like a well-whacked piñata, but it was worth it. Before his arm dropped back to his side, I’d slipped a Swiss-army knife I’d dipped from his pocket into my waistband.

Having no need to goad him now, I lapsed into silence. My guardsmen took my silence as a sign of being chastised and Charters in particular looked pleased with the result. Let him gloat, while he had the opportunity.

The helicopter banked to the right, throwing the three of us together. Charters now experienced a little of the discomfort that I’d had to put up with. As the helicopter levelled out he pushed me away none too gently, with another dig in the ribs for good measure.

‘I think you’ve had all the practice you need.’

My words won me a grunt of laughter. The concept of one man’s misfortune being another man’s pleasure was often a by-product of the mercenary lifestyle these men followed. Someone like Charters was only happy when making another person’s life a misery. I’d met many of his type throughout my lifetime. The years I’d spent as a soldier ensured I made the acquaintance of such beasts. Except then I usually ended up killing the miserable bastards.

Baron twisted round and called back to us, ‘We’re going down. You might want to grab a hold of your seats.’

No sooner had he said it than the helicopter banked to the left. We appeared to be in a nose dive, rushing towards the unforgiving earth. At the last possible second the pilot adjusted the controls and the nose went up and the skids touched ground with hardly a bump.

Charters opened the door to show a wide expanse of verdant lawn. He climbed out, then lifting a handgun for emphasis, he said, ‘Out, Hunter.’

I clambered out, my feet sinking into the spongy lawn. Over my head swooped the whirling rotor blades. Behind me came the thud of the second guard stepping out the helicopter. He pressed a hand to my shoulder, ushering me before him. Baron brought up the rear. His mobile phone was ringing but he ignored it.

Charters was in the way, but he wasn’t big enough to block my view of the house we approached. It was a huge colonial edifice, the kind of house that often serves as a backdrop to glossy adverts for luxury cars, though you wouldn’t expect to see the trimmings on this house in
GQ
magazine.

On the balustrade at the top of the building’s façade there were men with guns, also searchlights and CCTV cameras. Behind bullet- and blast-proof windows guards stood as stoic as sentries at Buckingham Palace. Other men with machine guns patrolled the grounds. I wondered how likely it was that the lawn and perimeter walls were sown with heat- and motion-sensing devices. If they were, then nothing larger than a mouse would get inside the compound uninvited.

Sigmund Petoskey waited for us at the front door. He must have travelled via a different craft. He held a mobile phone in a loose grip, and I guessed it was him who’d been ringing Baron a moment ago, eager for our arrival.

‘Glad you could make it, Siggy. It’ll save me another trip to Little Rock to kill you.’

Charters’ slap to the back of my head sent flashes of silver across my vision. Giving him the evil eye, I made him a silent promise. He curled a lip.

Turning to Baron, I said, ‘I hate what you’re forcing me to do, but I’m gonna tell you where John is as soon as I know Rink’s safe.’ Then squaring my shoulders before Charters, I said, ‘But I swear to God, if this piece of shit lays one more hand on me, I’ll fucking break his arm.’

Charters laughed but behind his hard gaze I noted a worm of trepidation, like he’d just figured out that perhaps I wasn’t joking. He glanced at his superiors for direction. An insidious smile flicked at the corners of Baron’s mouth as if the threat was something he’d like to see enacted.

Maybe it was a sense of duty, maybe it was false bravado, or that Charters felt my challenge made him lose face before his superiors. Whatever motivated him, he said, ‘I don’t like your tone of voice, asshole.’ He prepared to backhand me across the face.

‘I’m warning you,’ I growled.

But he wouldn’t be told.

His curled fist whipped towards me.

My response wasn’t to take the blow stoically. Neither did I step back to avoid it. I came forward, pivoting so that both my palms accepted the blow. Fingers curling over his forearm, I pulled it with me as I pivoted a second time, taking his outstretched arm under my armpit. Pulling up on his wrist, and forcing down with my body, it was my entire weight versus the fragile make up of his elbow. I heard the twang of rupturing tendons. Not that the matter could end there. I’d promised I’d break his arm. Retaining his wrist, I rammed a knee hard against his hyper-extended elbow. It was like snapping a green stick. Not bad for a man in handcuffs.

In the telling it sounds a lot, but it was a moment’s work. Before Charters could even register that his arm was shattered, I’d already moved away from him. The other guard gave a strangled gasp, and he started after me before faltering and grabbing instead at the gun in his shoulder holster. If I’d desired to, I could have speared my stiffened fingers into his eyes, or grabbed his chin and twisted his head a hundred and eighty degrees on his spine, except I’d still to see Rink alive.

Instead I turned my gaze on Baron. Finally I’d got a rise out of the man, even if it was only a momentary widening of his eyes. He lifted a hand towards the guard. ‘That’s enough, Drummond. I think we’d all agree that Charters asked for what he got.’

Drummond swayed in place. His hand drifted from his gun. Charters was still down on one knee, cupping his broken elbow in his opposite hand, gasping and squeezing tears from his sphincter-tight eyes.

‘I did warn him.’

‘Are you finished?’ Baron asked.

‘For now.’ The way I said it must’ve reminded Baron that I’d promised to kill him first. His fingers tickled the butt of the gun wedged in his waistband: the SIG taken from me earlier. We were like gunfighters in Dodge City, facing off, awaiting the slightest twitch that’d herald imminent death for one of us.

It was Petoskey who ended the stand-off. He directed his words at Baron in an almost conspiratorial whisper. ‘Now who’s having a pissing competition? Let’s get inside, now. Hendrickson isn’t the most patient of men, remember.’

Baron slowly drew away from the gun and scratched an itch on his jaw. It was all for show, a touch of the disdain he felt for my skills. In the next instant his oily smile was back in place and his hand made a sweeping gesture indicating that I follow Petoskey up the steps and into the house.

From behind me, Charters swore loudly. I glanced over my shoulder at him and his face was a picture of hatred. Saliva stitched a pattern between his widely splayed lips. ‘You broke my fucking arm!’

‘Yes,’ I said, ensuring Baron heard my words. ‘I promised you I would.’

Chapter 19

Rink and I had been in many precarious situations over the years. But never had we faced a predicament like the one we’d gotten ourselves into this time.

Forget the fact that there were five armed men in the room with us. Or that I was cuffed, and Rink was strapped to an ‘Old Sparky’ type chair. We also happened to be in the basement of a fortified mansion with twenty or so armed mercenaries prowling the grounds overhead.

The odds of us surviving the next few minutes were about the same as falling out of an airplane, tumbling thousands of feet, then landing on your feet and walking away. Still, I’d heard urban legends about just such a miracle, so I wasn’t about to give up. Rink was relying on me, and so was my brother, John.

Despite my promise to the contrary, I would never give up my brother. Yes, I loved Rink like a brother. But Rink was also a soldier. Like me, he knew the risks. John was a civilian. A foolish, misguided civilian, who had allowed greed to get in the way of good sense, but he shouldn’t have to suffer the kind of enemies Rink and I had lived with all these years.

Petoskey and Baron were going to be pissed off when they found out I’d no idea where John was. I’d always been worried that a situation like this could present itself and for that reason hadn’t pushed to know where Walter had hidden him.

Rink was awake. He’d certainly taken a beating at some point, but he’d been cleaned up and a rudimentary dressing had been applied to the wound in his shoulder. His face carried a few scrapes and bruises that were in the final stages of swelling, but he didn’t look
too
bad, for all that.

‘How are you, Rink?’

‘Good to go.’ He smiled.

Giving him a slow smile of my own, I turned to our captors.

‘Release him. Rink walks out of here. Then I give you what you want.’

Petoskey shook his head slowly. He was like a dorm prefect denying a hall pass, smug and supercilious. ‘You give us Telfer first. Once we have him, then Rington will be released.’

‘No offence,’ I said to him. ‘But I don’t believe you.’

‘Then we’re on the same wavelength.’

There were four guns pointed at me. My hands were cuffed. Under the circumstances Petoskey was safe from me.

‘So what happens now?’ Purposefully, I turned to Baron. ‘You’re going to have to wait a little longer for your big pay day.’

‘We could always force Telfer’s whereabouts from you,’ he said. With a flick of his jacket tail, he showed me a Taser clipped to his belt.