Cold Fire, page 23
‘The police are coming,’ Tess said. ‘If you’re going to do anything you’d best do it now, otherwise you’ll never get another chance.’
He wavered, holding the cigarette lighter an inch from the impromptu wick.
‘Think you’ll get a flame in this storm, you?’ asked Pinky. ‘I know that my pistols won’t fail me.’
The sirens grew louder.
The driver again gave warning and frustration replaced the cold rage in the man’s features. He lunged back into the Toyota and the driver backed away at speed.
Po didn’t relax for a second. If the brothers decided to go for broke and change direction, he was ready to intercept them. As the Toyota completed a turn in the road, Pinky rushed to get back in the SUV and get the sisters out of harm’s way. ‘Let’s roll,’ Po called to him.
The sirens continued to wail and gumball lights occasionally tinted the falling snow ahead. Po maneuvered around the abandoned van and SUV and Pinky followed. They’d gone several hundred yards when the first responders whipped by – a fire truck rather than a patrol car. Unbeknown to them at the time, the firefighters were en route to a flaming car several blocks north of where Harper’s attempted ambush had failed. Jaycee Monk had survived the confrontation with the Wolsey brothers, but not without injury; his burns were so severe he’d require skin grafts and amputations.
THIRTY-SIX
Harper squatted under the low boughs of a fir tree, his hulking form amorphous among the shadows. His hair and shoulders were dusted with clumps of snow. To anyone passing by they’d take him for another shrub among many shrubs at roadside. He watched while the confrontation disintegrated to one of bluff and counter bluff, and then the guy with the Molotov cocktail backed down and scrambled to escape. Harper didn’t move, he remained exactly where he’d squatted in the snow and the Toyota passed him and then took the sharp bend on to Presumpscot Street. Neither man had given him a split-second’s notice. He was as invisible to them as he had been to Tess Grey when she’d sought him minutes ago, and to the eyes of her Cajun beau and his black friend. His vision was untroubled and he’d seen everything with stark clarity. He watched as whom he took to be Joanne’s sister guided her into the rear seat of the black man’s SUV. He recalled her name – Detective Ratcliffe – and even without the benefit of foreknowledge he’d have recognized the familial likeness between the sisters. For trying to protect her kid sister, Ratcliffe had taken wounds, either from Mallory Carson’s shotgun or the shattering window. The black gunman he’d overheard called Pinky. What kind of name was Pinky for somebody almost as husky as Harper? He was unharmed from the encounter, but Harper had noticed a weakness in his reticence to shoot the punk threatening to burn him when he had the opportunity. Harper thought he could use that hesitancy to kill against him if necessary. Tess Grey had escaped injury from her second joust with Siobhan Doyle. Villere though, seemed pained, and even from a distance Harper saw that the Cajun carried a flesh wound to his neck and probably had been hit elsewhere. He was momentarily disappointed that the revolver hadn’t held a seventh round, but not really. When death arrived for the Cajun, Harper wanted it to be delivered more up close and personal than at the end of a gun barrel.
Villere led and Pinky followed.
Harper weighed the possibility of using either the van or Doyle’s SUV to give pursuit, but neither vehicle was roadworthy. He wondered what had become of Carson and Lyman. They’d swiftly booked out the instant the fight had turned against them. It didn’t surprise him. They were full of shit and had shown they were as little use to him as Jaycee Monk, and he’d proved useless. Siobhan had won kudos for the way in which she’d followed his instructions to the letter; the manner in which she’d launched the attack was as fearless as any he could have hoped for. It was such a pity that she’d shown her bravery was fleeting and that she’d slunk off like a broken-backed dog the instant the opportunity arose. She had been hit by Tess Grey’s return fire and had been almost bent double with pain when she bugged out of the SUV. He supposed he couldn’t criticize her for following her survival instinct. He wondered, as in his crippled dog analogy, she’d crawled somewhere to die.
A fire truck hurtled into view, sirens and lights and a blatting of horns. It slowed marginally as the crew spotted the vehicles at curbside, but it was apparent to them that they – a road hazard – weren’t their priority. They were headed someplace else, probably to where Monk had failed miserably in his attempt at running the Toyota off the road.
Those in the Toyota were an interesting addition to the night’s goings-on. When Monk first reported the car speeding to intercept the convoy, Harper had assumed the occupants to be allies of Grey and Villere. Not so, it appeared, and quite the opposite. He hadn’t gotten a look at Grey and Villere’s captive, but had overheard enough to learn he was a brother to the duo in the Toyota. All three were pissed at Grey, for some tenuous slight the private investigator had supposedly dealt their mother. They’d chased after their sibling, hoping to rescue him, but after showing they were serious against Monk, they could only champ their teeth and make baseless threats when confronting their true enemies. At first Harper had wondered if he could use them and their hatred of Grey as a distraction. He’d willingly have sent them as fodder to the slaughter to allow him to get to Joanne Mason, but decided against it when he considered how they’d dithered and then retreated the second there was a hint of a siren on the wind. They were punks, useless to him, unless …
Once the fire truck regained speed and disappeared along Ocean Avenue, Harper rose up from his hiding place, turned on his heel and pushed through the shrubs separating the roads. He stepped out on to Presumpscot Street, noting the fresh tire tracks in the latest fall of snow and followed them towards where the brothers had taken cover in the parking lot of a marine supplies store. The Toyota was one of around a dozen cars, vans and trailers parked overnight, and the only one currently without a covering of snow on its roof and hood. About a hundred yards ahead and to his right, Harper spotted a taxicab depot and fleetingly wondered if he should dispense entirely with his new idea and try commandeering a yellow taxi instead. He decided against the taxi without using the logical decision-making process he prided himself on and instead went with the irrational buzz of anticipation, heading directly towards the Toyota.
The driver had reversed between a couple of trucks, concealing the Toyota from the road, but also obscuring their view of anyone approaching. Harper went steadily, mindless of the snow gathering on his blocky head and wide shoulders; but mindful of his footing. He carried the empty revolver, holding it down by his right thigh. He breathed, feeling the icy sting in his abused nostrils. He spat a thick clot of blood on the ground.
Movements inside the car were sharp and jerky and there was a rumble of conversation. Harper couldn’t decipher one voice from the other, those inside were arguing and frustrated and – like Harper was – trying to come up with a contingency after their original plan to rescue their brother had fallen to pieces. Absurdly they whispered so that their voices didn’t carry: Harper doubted that they’d be heard by anyone else but him even if they shouted and screamed. He contemplated the possibility that they were armed, and decided if they had access to guns then why try to threaten Grey and Villere with a jerry-rigged firebomb? He tapped the barrel of the revolver against his leg. He hadn’t dumped the empty shell casings yet. He’d no fresh ammo. But the amateurs in the Toyota could have no way of knowing. He adjusted his direction and flanked the nearest truck and approached the car from its back left corner. His silhouette was blocked by a group of trees behind him. He moved further, and once he was adjacent to the car he strode without pause and grabbed the driver’s door handle. He yanked open the door and jammed the revolver under the man’s chin as he spun in alarm to confront him.
‘Police,’ said Harper. ‘Don’t move.’
The second brother, as stunned as the first, dropped a cell phone he’d been working on. It slipped between his knees. His hand moved to the side. Going for a gun?
‘You no speakee Inglis?’ Harper mocked him. ‘Did I not just order you to keep still?’
For good measure Harper screwed the barrel of the revolver into the soft flesh of the driver’s throat. His brother raised his empty hands in surrender.
The driver’s eyes darted at Harper, and then at what he could see of the gun, then back to Harper again. ‘You’re no cop.’
‘Damn, I didn’t fool you long. But you know what that means, don’t you? I’m not a cop, so there’s not a fucking thing stopping me from blowing your goddamn head off.’
The other brother, the same as tried forcing Grey and Villere to release a third brother called Jake, scowled up at Harper. ‘You’re one of that bunch that tried ambushing Tess and Po’boy back there.’
‘What of it?’
‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?’ he asked hopefully.
‘I don’t go in for any of that bullshit. Don’t get any ideas. Just cause you’ve got a boner for the private eyes you’re not my friend. No way, no how.’ Harper tilted his large head to one side. ‘In fact, from this angle you look exactly like a piece of dirt.’ He straightened up. ‘Still the same from this angle too.’
‘Buddy,’ said the driver, his bottom lip trembling, ‘what is it you want from us?’
‘I want your car.’ Harper reached and snatched out the ignition key and pushed it in a pocket. ‘See, my usual ride’s been trashed along with a van I might’ve used, and you two fuckwits are responsible for putting the only car left to me out of commission. What did you do with Monk?’
‘We don’t know who Monk is?’
‘I’m sure you can figure it out. Guy that tried driving you off the road earlier, and you repaid him with one or two of your Molotov cocktails?’
‘He got out the car, on fire,’ the driver admitted, ‘and started rolling in the snow. We didn’t hang around to see if he survived.’
‘Don’t blame you,’ Harper said. ‘Don’t worry, he means nothing to me. On the other hand, his car was my ride outta here, so now you’ve gotta make recompense.’
‘C’mon, man, give us a break, whydon’tcha?’ said the passenger.
‘We have something in common here. You want somebody, and we want our brother Jake back. We both want Tess and Po’boy out of the way and we can help each other. Yeah?’
‘OK, let me consider your proposal. No. I’ve thought about it and you still remind me only of a piece of dirt.’
Without warning Harper grabbed the driver and yanked him out of the car, crushing him bodily against the door column. He shoved the revolver harder into the flesh of his throat. ‘Tell your bro to get out without any fuss, or I will kill you.’
‘A-Aaron,’ the driver stuttered. ‘He means what he says.’
‘You’d better believe it, Aaron,’ Harper said.
Aaron got out, holding his empty hands aloft.
‘OK, come on around here where I can see you.’ Harper didn’t release the driver, but motioned for Aaron to join them with the barrel of the revolver. When he transferred it back to his captive, he placed the barrel in the driver’s eye socket. Aaron hurried to comply.
‘Jeez,’ Harper said, ‘you guys stink like gasoline. Maybe I shouldn’t use this gun to shoot you or we might all go up like Hiroshima. What you got in the back there?’
‘Couple cans of gas,’ said Aaron.
‘I’d better drive with the windows down or someone in the back might get high on those fumes, eh?’ said Harper, and he offered Aaron a conspiratorial grin. Aaron wasn’t amused.
‘Let Jim go, man. You can have the car, but let my brother go.’
‘I don’t intend taking either of you with me. Least of all Jimmy-Bob. Come here. Closer.’ He wagged the gun at Aaron. ‘Don’t make me tell you twice.’
‘Why? What you gonna—’
Before Aaron could finish his question, Harper hammered the gun butt down on the top of his head. He felt the skull fracture under the terrific weight of the blow, and Aaron dropped as if the tendons in his skeleton had all been cut simultaneously. Jim, the driver, squawked in alarm, and Harper had to give the man his due: he tried to fight. Harper’s left hand was at the nape of Jim’s neck, and immediately after striking Aaron with it, he stabbed the gun back into Jim’s eye socket. He shoved both hands inwards, twisting and screwing with the gun as if attempting to manually force a coupling together. It was a savage and terrible and uncalled for act, but Harper relished every second of the man’s agony. Within no time the pleasure diminished as Jim diminished also. Shock as much as pain robbed him of his senses and he went limp in Harper’s grasp. Harper dropped him and both brothers lay with their heads touching.
They made easy targets for Harper’s heels.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Sergeant Alex Grey met them at the midtown police headquarters with a handful of patrol officers and a couple of plain-clothes detectives looking on. Usually officers accessed the building via Newbury Street, while the public entered via a paved plaza adjacent to a multi-storey parking lot. Alex had told Tess to bring Joanne to the short flight of steps off the street, as it was less exposed to witnesses. There was a moment of confusion after Po drew the Telluride to a halt and Pinky drove past and swung the hood of his SUV into the curb as if blocking Po’s further progress. The officers were unsure which car carried Joanne Mason, until it became obvious they’d formed a blockade with the cars to cover the girl while she left the SUV and into the phalanx of officers who could then gather about her. Detective Ratcliffe shielded her sister too and Pinky filled a void in the formation as Joanne was ushered off the sidewalk and up the concrete steps to the entrance. After handing over Jake Wolsey for official arrest and processing, Tess and Po also joined the rush to get Joanne inside and out of reach of a drive-by shooter. Harper and his group had shown they were capable of such rash attacks so she wasn’t safe until Joanne was fully behind the station walls. Even then, Tess wasn’t fully convinced of her safety and was pleased when Alex directed them beyond the reach of the public into a more secure area deeper in the building.
Tess used to be a sheriff’s deputy and had worked out of the Cumberland County Sheriff’s office rather than here, but she was familiar with the Portland PD offices too. In her current role as a private investigator she’d had plenty of reasons to attend the station, no less than to visit with her brother on occasion. Most of the cops in attendance recognized her and Po, some of them were on first name terms. As was sometimes the case, Pinky drew glances that had little to do with his skin color, or his impressive bulk, and more to do with his rap sheet. He’d probably only convinced fifty per cent of the officers there that he was reborn, and not the notorious criminal from Baton Rouge he used to be. For Tess fifty per cent was enough, because they made up those Alex had designated as Joanne’s protective detail. She was taken with Detective Ratcliffe to a private office, whereas Wolsey was hustled towards lock up; none of them were in a hurry to deal with the arsonist yet. Tess even smiled at the pun that the firebug should be left to cool his heels in a cell.
Alex led Tess, Po and Pinky into his office.
‘I’ve had to deploy officers to several crime scenes throughout Portland. How is it every time you take on a case, I end up having to go over budget on staffing levels?’ Alex asked wryly. He gave Tess a discreet hug to show he was happy she’d made it to the building safely, then frowned in concern at her bandaged hand. The elderly spinsters had done a neat job of bandaging her wound, but hours had past since and Tess had used her hand where it should have been rested. Blood had seeped through and stained the dressing. ‘You need to have that looked at.’
‘It looks worse than it is,’ she assured him.
‘Seriously, Tess?’
‘OK, you’re right. It’s beginning to hurt like hell.’
‘What about …’ He nodded at her abdomen.
‘Baby’s fine.’
‘That’s good. But let’s see to that hand. I’ll have one of my team fetch the first-aid kit.’ Alex turned to Po. ‘For Christ’s sakes, you’re bleeding all over too.’
Po shrugged non-plussed. ‘They’re only scratches.’
‘You’re bleeding from your side worse than a stuck pig. Go sit down over there before you fall down.’
Po shook his head at the proffered seat. ‘I’m good. You might want to have somebody check Ratcliffe over, from the way things went down I’m pretty sure she got a face full of buckshot.’
Ratcliffe was nowhere to be seen, having accompanied Joanne. She was determined to chaperone her sister until she was totally convinced of Joanne’s safety. There were still some that might doubt her innocence in the murders of the Blackhorse children and treat her accordingly.
‘Been a helluva night for you too, Pinky?’ Alex pointed out. It wasn’t the first time the men had met that evening. ‘Pleased to see you look no worse for wear than before.’
‘I carry off the singed pants look, me,’ said Pinky with a sassy wink. Alex was a confirmed heterosexual and was currently in a relationship with Tess’s occasional employer, Emma Clancy, but it didn’t stop Pinky from flirting shamelessly with him. ‘But I look even better in my birthday suit.’
Alex leaned his knuckles on his desk and shook his head. He looked at all three in succession, before returning his attention solely to Tess. He exuded incredulity. ‘My superiors want answers. They want to know what the hell is going on. From what you’ve told me already you’ve managed to piss off two separate parties this time. We’ve had buildings torched, cars and vans wrecked, and who knows how many people have been injured or how many bad guys we still have running loose? I’ve got to say it, Tess, but you’ve gone and exceled yourself this time.’
‘Six,’ said Po.
Alex shot him a look. ‘Six?’
‘You’ve got six bad guys on the loose. Harper and his girlfriend; two female shooters from the van; and two more Wolsey brothers, seeing as you already have one of them locked up. Six.’
