Cold Fire, page 22
She said so again, and on that occasion, Ratcliffe had elbowed her driving seat with mock frustration. ‘Jeez, Jo, if you don’t shut up I’m going to boot you out the car at the next intersection.’
Joanne raised her head, peeking out the window. Portland was a remarkably wooded town, even in the depths of winter, and each bough was laden with several inches of snow. The backwash of the car’s headlights, and also from Pinky’s following close behind, lit the scene with almost antiseptic starkness, causing the shadows to appear darker and sharp-edged. There was little color in the monochrome world they passed through.
‘You must keep your head down, Jo,’ Ratcliffe insisted.
‘I was only trying to see where we are.’
‘Do you know Portland?’
‘No. I’ve never been here before.’
‘Ditto. I haven’t any idea where we are, but Tess and Po do and I need to stick close to them or I’ll get lost.’
‘All I see is trees and snow.’
‘Yeah, well all that’s coming up is more of the same, so you may as well keep down.’
Joanne took a lingering look out through the window, before twisting in the chair and peering out the rear window. Condensation misted the glass and all she could see was the glare of Pinky’s headlights and a suggestion of the large SUV behind. Unsure whether Pinky could see her or not, she raised her hand and gave a tentative wave. She wondered if he was the type to wave back, or if he’d scowl at her childlike naivety. From what she’d gathered he was an ex-con, an ex-gangster, but also a trusted and loyal friend of Tess and Po. She’d only met Pinky briefly, and from what she’d witnessed there was a hard side to him, evidenced when threatening the arsonist earlier. But he’d also just come from saving a helpless old lady from a burning building so his gruff behavior could be explained, and it could be excused.
‘Jo, for crying out loud!’
‘There’s nobody but Pinky going to see me,’ Jo retorted, but ducked down all the same.
No sooner was she below the level of the window when Ratcliffe croaked in dismay, and Joanne was thrown sideways against the door as her sister tried to avoid a collision. The car jounced on its chassis and the back end began to slew sideways, throwing her forcefully against the door again. She feared it would pop open and spill her out on the hard-packed ice. Next instant, forces yanked her aside and across the seat again. The car was struck from behind, the noise horrendous as the trunk buckled. Their tires lost traction, and the car went airborne it seemed, and then they struck another larger vehicle in front – Po’s Telluride – and then it was as if the trio of vehicles were all melded into one writhing snake. Ratcliffe cursed, fighting the forces being exerted on her body. Joanne had no recourse other than throw out her hands and grab at the back of her sister’s chair. It didn’t help. She was thrown once more against the door, this time her head caroming off the padded armrest. The noise hadn’t abated. It had swollen and the cracking of handguns added punctuation to it. Bullets struck metal and glass, and horribly, she thought, flesh too. At such close quarters how could they not get shot?
The cars came to a juddering halt. She heard the squeal of tires as one or the other was freed from the metal sandwich and pulled away. Bullets struck their windshield and glass littered the interior of the car. Ratcliffe grunted in pain.
Joanne cried out for her sister.
‘Stay down, Jo,’ Ratcliffe commanded. ‘Stay down.’
‘Are you hurt?’ Joanne tried to claw a way between the front seats.
‘Goddamnit, will you do as I ask?’ A hand batted at her, forcing her to remain in the back seat. There was blood on it.
‘You’re bleeding.’
‘It’s just a small cut. From the flying glass. Stay down.’
Icy wind rushed inside the car. Ratcliffe had her service pistol out. She hollered a command at the unseen shooters, a habitual response that was flatly ignored. Warning given, Ratcliffe fired. Joanne was deafened by the report. She clapped her palms over her ears, cringing with each shot fired.
Something shunted them again. This time there was no attempt at stopping by the vehicle ramming them. Ratcliffe’s car was spun a quarter moon in the road and its rear tires butted up against a curb heaped with hard-packed snow. It juddered to a halt. Whomever her sister had shot at was now out of her line of fire. When Joanne looked up a larger vehicle again than Pinky’s SUV hove into view, some kind of dark grey colored van. A woman wearing a half-face mask leaned out of the passenger window and fired almost point blank at the car with a shotgun. Ratcliffe yelled and twisted to return fire. The next blast of the shotgun lit up the cab. Ratcliffe fell silent.
Joanne screamed.
THIRTY-FIVE
It was lucky that Tess’s injured hand was her left and she was right-handed, otherwise mounting a defence would have proven almost impossible. In the intervening hours since it had been taken from the redhead, the feel of her pistol had grown familiar to Tess and shooting it came natural. The magazine was partially depleted from previous usage, but there were enough bullets left to drop Harper and the woman. That was if one or two bullets would be enough to stop the big man, and a small part of her dwindled in unholy terror at the thought that he was invincible, and no number of bullets would even mark his skin. However, a much larger portion of her knew she was thinking ridiculously and shot in the heart or head, he’d die as easily as anyone else. Case in point, Po had smashed Harper’s nose to pulp, so he wasn’t as impregnable as he looked.
Po gave the impression that he was tougher than whalebone and gristle, but she knew that he was hurt. Harper had shot at the Telluride from barely twenty feet away, and the bullets had all found their way inside the car, one or maybe two of them nicking Po, but for the time being he didn’t let on how badly he’d been injured. It was only sheer luck, and a miscount by Harper, that had saved Po from an even closer shot to his skull. Six bullets had been spent rapidly, so it was a seventh time that Harper pulled the trigger and the hammer had fallen on an empty casing. Now that Harper was out of ammunition he wasn’t Tess’s priority.
Ahead of them, looming closer with each second, came a car with its high beams glaring. The driver fired with an arm hanging out of the window, making accuracy difficult, but most of the bullets struck the Telluride, busting the windshield and caroming off the hood and roof. Tess didn’t waste time leaning out of her window, she fired directly through the broken windshield and her hand was steadier than she would’ve believed possible following the bout of weakness that struck her earlier. Her eyesight was clear, and once she’d pushed Harper beyond her concern, her mind was focussed. Each of her shots was grouped in a small batch not much larger than a baseball. Allowing for the woman leaning out the side window to shoot, Tess had fired marginally further to the left than she might otherwise have, each shot intended for the redhead’s heart.
Maybe it wasn’t Harper who was indestructible, perhaps it was the redhead instead, because the car never wavered, kept on coming, and if anything picked up speed. Po sawed the steering, first jinking left, and then right, and then spun the wheels as he lost traction on the ice. A moment later and the tires bit down and the Telluride jumped forward. The SUV speeding towards them didn’t deviate. It struck the back end of the Telluride, smashing a path through and Tess heard rather than witnessed it crash into Ratcliffe’s car. Tess craned about seeking the women, and also wondering what had become of Pinky in the past few crazy seconds. Instead of Pinky’s black SUV, she spotted a grey van and wondered how in hell it had managed to approach so stealthily as to avoid detection. Of course, they had the storm to blame for that. Any moving vehicle beyond fifty yards was totally masked by the whirling snow. It must have hurtled in the instant that Harper sprung his trap, intending forcing them into what Tess recognized as the entrance to the old landfill site, now a field dotted with solar panels. Before reaching the defunct garbage tip, they must pass through some barren ground where only the foundations of buildings remained from when it was an operational quarry.
It was apparent that Po had also recognized Harper’s intention and wasn’t for playing the man’s game. He hit reverse and sent the Telluride hurtling into the center of the road, using its momentum and a stamp to the brake to assist the skid that set it between the van and where they’d last seen Harper at the V in the roads. There was no sign of the hulking killer, though Tess searched for him, leaving the driving to Po. Po hit the gas. He rammed the van, buckling it almost in two as he kept the gas pedal on the floor. The same instant as the collision, somebody within the van had unloaded a shotgun on Ratcliffe’s car. Hopefully he hadn’t been too late and had thrown off the shooter’s aim. Before the van had settled on its tires again, PO reversed, then powered forward, striking the van a second time and jamming it against a mound of packed snow at roadside. The van’s engine squealed like a dying thing. The driver tried to get it moving, but the van refused to budge. Doors spilled open and two women – strangers to Tess – leapt free. One of them carried the shotgun. She turned it on the Telluride with an angry shout.
A pistol cracked. Not Tess’s, because she was poorly positioned to return fire at the woman. Ratcliffe, still alive thankfully, fired from within her car and blood puffed from high on the shotgun wielder’s shoulder. The gunwoman bent almost double, racing for cover. Tess understood that she’d already spent the two cartridges loaded in her gun. The second woman pulled a handgun out her waistband. Tess leaned past Po and fired at her. She too darted for cover, using the van for concealment.
Out of imminent danger from that duo, Tess’s attention snapped to where Harper was last seen, then on the car his driver had employed to ram them. The door of the SUV hung open, but there was no sign of the redhead who must’ve scrambled out while Tess was otherwise engaged. There were dark splotches on the snow, but Tess couldn’t possibly tell if it was blood; surely her shots had hit the murderous bitch?
Po’s head almost torqued off as he twisted to take in his surroundings. ‘There’s Pinky,’ he said, making a roll call of their numbers. ‘Ratcliffe and Joanne. We’ve all made it, but things can still change.’
Tess thought that they were missing one person. She clawed around in her seat and checked for the arsonist. He lay across the back seat, hands locked to the door handle. Blood dotted his clothes. At first she feared that he was dead, but then she saw that his eyes were stretched wide, his mouth in a tight grimace. He shivered with anxiety. He’d survived, but might require a change of underwear.
‘Are you hit?’ she asked him.
His head barely shook in the negative.
She checked with Po.
The blood dotting the arsonist had sprayed from him. He was bleeding from the side of his neck, and also, on closer examination, from a wound on his thigh and another on his left arm. ‘You’ve been shot,’ she said, alarmed, ‘three times!’
‘Not shot, just skimmed. I think the cut on my neck was from flying glass, not a bullet.’ He ignored her a moment, while gesturing to Pinky. His instruction required no words: Ratcliffe’s car was done; get the women safely into his SUV. Pinky drove forward to comply. Po swung the Telluride around to block them from those hiding behind the van. Tess covered with her pistol, aware she had only a couple of rounds left, if that.
Pinky called to them, waving in the direction of the decommissioned quarry. ‘Those witches, they took off with their tails tucked between their legs.’
‘Did you see what became of Harper?’ asked Po.
‘Saw a woman stumble away, me, but nothing of Harper since he unloaded on us. You hit, Nicolas?’
‘I’m good, podnuh. You?’
‘Pissed, man. I didn’t even get off a shot.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Po said, ‘you’ll get your opportunity, f’sure.’
Ratcliffe looked pained as she got out of her car. She clutched at the side of her head with one hand, but her grip on her service weapon was firm as she guided her sister out the back and to Pinky’s waiting car.
A car approached too fast for the road conditions. Tess aimed her pistol at it, trying to identify if the occupants were friends or foes. She’d gotten off the promised call to her brother Alex, who had assured her he’d greet them with a protection detail when they arrived at the station. She guessed he’d also have alerted the patrols in the area to be on the look out for them. The older model Toyota Corolla speeding towards them wasn’t a Portland PD cruiser, but Tess couldn’t discount that it could belong to undercover officers. She didn’t lower her pistol though, thinking that Pinky might get his chance to fire a shot after all.
Po powered the Telluride across the road, then swung the front around to intercept the Toyota, should the driver intend using it as they had the other vehicles. The Toyota decelerated, but the snow made stopping a more difficult task than usual. It skidded, the noise like a shriek of fright, and Tess braced for impact. It stopped with bare feet to spare. Tess peered back at two furious faces glowering at her through the Toyota’s streaked windshield. Even contorted in hatred, she recognized the familial likeness with their sibling currently gasping from fright behind her.
She turned to briefly appraise their captive. ‘If you care that your brothers survive this, you’d better warn them from doing anything stupid.’
Learning his brothers were close by, the young man reared up, trying to see where they were. He opened his mouth, and Tess was certain he was about to holler for help. That would surely bring his brothers running, and cause a second violent confrontation in only a few minutes.
‘We are armed and ready for them,’ Tess warned, ‘and this time they won’t have a chance. If you want to shout anything to them, it should be advice to put aside this stupid vendetta against me.’
‘I told you already they won’t stop,’ the captive retorted. ‘You deserve the same as happened to our mom.’
‘Let them come,’ Po growled. ‘Pinky will drop them before they get more than a couple of steps. If not, I’ll snap their damn necks.’
Po was rightfully angry with the siblings. So was Tess, but she couldn’t raise the same amount of ire she had for Harper and his henna-haired whore. Just then she hoped to find remedy with the arsonists, one of mutual forgiveness; she couldn’t help protect Joanne when trying to stave off a bunch of misguided firebugs. Who was she kidding? They might be poorly informed amateurs, but they were no less potential killers than Harper or any of his cronies. Their fires had already put several of Po’s employees out of work, burned Po’s muscle car, and worse, they had destroyed Anne Ridgeway’s treasured curios shop and Tess’s apartment, and almost killed Anne and Pinky in the process. There could be no peaceful resolution.
The driver of the Toyota rode the gas pedal up and down, making the engine noise rise and fall. It was a pitiful attempt at intimidation. The car suddenly backed away and swerved into the opposite lane. It came to rest within spitting distance of where Harper had launched the ambush. The passenger alighted and stood with a bottle held out from his side. It contained gasoline and a wad of paper as a makeshift fuse. Unlit, it wasn’t threatening, but striking a match would take no time whatsoever.
‘What you going to do with that, you?’ Pinky challenged. He ensured that the brother could see his pistols. ‘I’ll shoot that outta your hand before you can throw it. Might even put a coupla rounds in your face while I’m at it, me.’
‘You have Jake,’ the man called, giving a name to their captive. ‘Let him go or I swear to God—’
‘You’ve no business swearing to God, you evil son of a bitch,’ Pinky snapped. ‘I see you, and I know you. You’re the one squirted lighter fuel all over me, and I’d say you were the one to soak Anne Ridgeway too. You’ve got the devil in you.’
The arsonist took out a plastic disposable cigarette lighter. He held it up and then gestured at the paper fuse with it. ‘Let Jake go or you’ll see how evil I can be. I’ll burn you, I’ll fucking burn you all.’
Po was itching to get out the Telluride and deal man to man with the threat, but Tess stalled him with a hand on his shoulder. ‘He’s bluffing,’ she whispered with an almost imperceptible nod towards their passenger. ‘He can’t use that firebomb without hurting his brother Jake.’
‘Shoot that piece of crap and have done, Pinky,’ Po called to their friend.
‘I’m sorely tempted, me,’ said Pinky.
‘You aren’t going to shoot me. You’re supposed to be the good guys. Well, that’s bullshit! Your good deeds almost killed our mother. D’you know how badly she’s burned? Do you have any fucking idea? They’re going to amputate her hands, and her face is burned right down to the bone in places.’
‘Think about what you’re saying,’ Tess responded. ‘Why target me for your mother’s misery? Why not anyone else in the long chain that led to this moment? How am I responsible for your mom’s injuries, because I was the one to send her back for breaking her parole? She was the one who broke it, and you probably helped her do it. Your actions are equally responsible for what sent her back to jail. Are you going to burn yourself to ashes, are you going to burn your brothers along with you?’
‘I will if I have to.’
Tess coughed in scorn. ‘Now you’re just being ridiculous.’
The driver must have said something, because the firebug suddenly jerked his head and they spoke coarsely but Tess couldn’t hear what was said.
From a distance, the sound of sirens arose.
