Rules of Honour - 08, page 27
part #8 of Joe Hunter Series
Shouting began from within the decrepit building. I caught a flash of light, but someone had the good sense to douse the lamp, to make them difficult to target. Some gung-ho fool came running out, firing blindly as he raced to gain a flanking position on me. Crouching in the tree line, I targeted him: a cluster of rounds through his upper thighs and he pitched face first on the deck. He wasn’t dead – not yet – and he started howling blue murder, as was my intention in not killing him outright. If I’d nicked a femoral artery he wouldn’t be screaming for long, so I needed to make the most of the disconcertion the others had to be experiencing. With no idea where Yukiko was being held, I couldn’t blindly fire into the building for fear of hitting her. Better that I draw the others out, offering Rink room to move.
I fired once, presenting muzzle flash, but immediately scooted away, placing a tree trunk between the lodge and me. At the far corner, a man leaned out and fired at where I’d crouched seconds earlier. He loosed half a dozen rounds. I waited until the last to let out a startled yelp, before shaking the bushes next to me, as though falling back. I made a loud moan as I moved silently out of the way.
‘I got the bastard,’ the gunman crowed.
‘Careful,’ another cautioned. I hadn’t been aware of this man, hiding out behind a pile of logs to my left.
‘I heard him fall,’ the first said. ‘I got the fucker.’
‘Take it easy. He might still be alive. Chaney said he had a buddy with him; watch out, man.’
‘We have to get Boyd out of the way. We have to stop his goddamn screaming before he brings the other to us.’
‘Leave him, there’s nothing you can do if the bastard out there is still alive.’
The gunman had a sense of loyalty usually found lacking in these types. He came out from hiding, first checking on his fallen comrade, before seeking out where I’d fallen.
‘Cover me, I’m going to check.’
In less than a second, the gunman came at a crouching run, his gun held out in both hands as he homed in on the spot where he thought I’d gone down. I ignored him momentarily, watching as the second one lifted his head above the stack of logs to follow his progress. On my left he made for a poor target, but I’d trained myself to shoot with both hands. My right hand’s better, but the left’s not too shoddy. I squeezed the trigger of the Glock and it bucked in my hand. A cloud of blood and hair puffed from the top of the man’s head and he sank below the line of logs. The running man skidded to halt, barking out a curse, as he understood they’d been suckered. He swung his gun, shooting at my muzzle flash, but that was OK. My arm had been outstretched, well away from my body, and it was through empty space that his bullets flew. Calmly I lined him up with my SIG and shot him in the face. Throughout, the leg-shot man, Boyd, hadn’t stopped screaming. But he’d realised he was not yet dead. He clawed his way around, lifting his gun, and he fired at me.
I was running at him.
One of his bullets punched my shoulder. I’ve been hit there before and know just how agonising and debilitating such a wound can be. Without thought I understood that his round had not found flesh, but only the cloth of my jacket. I barely missed a step as I fired with both guns, a double tap to his central mass as I charged by him and pressed myself tightly to the lodge wall. I smelled mildew and rot, a heady aroma tinged by the more acrid cordite wafting in the breeze. From within came harsh whispering. Two voices belonging to Chaney and Markus. There followed a thud of feet on stairs. I slipped my SIG in my belt, checked the Glock and found the mag still half full.
Judging by the number of vehicles on the turnout I’d expected more defenders than those I’d gone up against, but didn’t doubt that Rink had accounted for some of the others. I could only hope he’d reached a good position, now that I’d compromised mine.
‘You out there,’ a voice bellowed. ‘Drop your gun or – by God – I swear the old bitch will die.’
I recalled Sean Chaney’s bullfrog croak from the BART carriage.
‘Isn’t going to happen, Chaney,’ I called back. ‘Your best bet’s to hand her over – unharmed – and you’ll be given a chance. If I come in there I’ll be shooting. You understand that?’
‘Come in, I’ll kill you.’
‘I’m not interested in you. It’s that other bastard I want. You there, Markus?’
‘He’s with the old woman,’ Chaney shouted. ‘He’ll do her in a second. Do you hear me? Come inside and the Jap bitch dies.’
‘If that happens, I swear to you, Chaney, you’ll beg for death before I’m finished with you.’
‘Like I said: come in. I’m not about to be suckered like that time on the train.’
‘You’ve had all the warnings you’re getting. This time I won’t be going for a leg shot.’
‘You shouldn’t have last time,’ Chaney crowed.
He fired and bullets punched the wall. The timbers halted most, but some cut through the rotted wood or found chinks between the caulking. Good job I’d already flattened myself to the dirt floor. As chunks of wood jumped in the air above me, I rolled clockwise and placed myself belly down in the gap in the doorway. Chaney was a huge amorphous silhouette, darker than the darkness around him. From my prone position I fired.
I’d lied to him.
I did go for a leg shot.
Blood puffed from the matching hole I put through his previously injured thigh. It was a supreme insult, just to show the bastard what I thought of him. He roared at the ignominy, swinging his gun on me, but I’d already continued my roll, out of his sight. I came to my feet, pressing against the logs once more.
Chaney dragged himself further inside, cursing like mad.
There was another noise, a scuff above me. From a tree bole a figure detached itself and clambered up on to the roof.
I grinned.
‘Chaney,’ I called. ‘Are you ready to hand Yukiko over yet?’
‘Fuck you! The old woman’s going to die.’
‘Then there’s nothing more I can do to spare your life,’ I said.
From further back there came a crashing of shingles as Rink broke a way inside. Immediately I sprang for the door. Offering cover I dashed in, just as Rink dropped through a hole in the roof and landed behind Chaney. Rink had switched his gun for his KA-BAR, which glinted dully in his hand, casting a burnished flame in my buddy’s normally dark eyes. Chaney was caught wrong-footed, stumbling on his game leg, as he swung at the new threat, offering me his broad back.
Chaney fired. But his gun was empty, his bullets spent on the wall. He looked down at the useless weapon on hearing the dead man’s click.
I could easily have shot Chaney dead, but this was primarily Rink’s gig.
He had first dibs on Chaney for taking his mom.
He rammed the blade through Chaney’s open mouth with such force the tip of the blade jutted an inch from his bald pate.
Chaney fell backwards, landing flat on his back, dead.
Rink yanked the KA-BAR free with a sound not unlike Velcro torn apart. With a deft shake of the wrist he shed the blood from the blade, a move reminiscent of the samurai chiburi – or blood shake – manoeuvre as the warrior cleans his katana sword before returning it to its scabbard. He kept his knife firmly in hand.
Then he turned to face Markus Colby who’d crept up from a cellar behind him.
Markus also gripped a knife, but it was held to Yukiko’s throat.
Chapter 41
‘Put down your weapons,’ Markus said.
He was a big man, easily as tall and muscular as Rink. In comparison Yukiko was diminutive. She made the hole in a human-shaped doughnut, while he was the outer ring, and I was pretty certain that I could’ve shot Markus a dozen times without as much as nicking her. But I couldn’t take the chance. Unless my first shot killed him, the killer would ram his blade into her throat and that would be it.
Rink didn’t look at the man; his attention was on his mother, checking that she had not been harmed. Her hands were bound behind her back, and a noose lay round her neck. Out of sight behind her, Markus gripped the trailing rope. He had the strength to yank her off her feet and hang her in front of us.
‘I won’t tell you again.’ Markus pricked the skin of Yukiko’s throat, and a bead of blood slipped below her blouse collar. In the gloom it looked like a beetle had scuttled for cover under her clothing.
‘We’ll do it your way, Markus,’ Rink said.
He dropped his KA-BAR on the hard-packed dirt, kicked it away. Then he pulled out his gun and also tossed it away across the room. It clattered where it fell among some stacked furniture.
‘What’s the plan, Markus?’ I asked. ‘We throw down our weapons and you shoot us, and then you kill Yukiko anyway?’
‘Possibly,’ Markus said. ‘Maybe I’ll just walk out of here with her, use her for cover until I can get to a vehicle, and then release her. But that won’t happen unless you put down your fucking gun.’
There was little chance of him releasing Yukiko. In all likelihood he had a gun stuffed in his belt, concealed from us by Yukiko’s body. He’d wait until we were unarmed, then jab her in the throat, throwing her into our arms to stall us while he brought out his gun and shot us in the head. It was an untenable position we were in. No way he could expect me to give up my weapon.
Rink gave me a nod and I threw down the Glock.
Markus’s eyes narrowed marginally.
I just bet that he was expecting me to resist further, so he had an excuse to use the blade on Yukiko a little more.
‘Let my mother go,’ Rink said.
‘You’re not in a position to make demands,’ Markus told him.
‘We’ve done as you said and put down our weapons. Let my mother go,’ Rink repeated.
‘You didn’t do fully as I asked. You were meant to bring me the other two murderers. Where are Parnell and Faulks?’
‘Safe from you,’ I said.
Markus stared at me. His face was rigid. He shifted marginally, and I guess he was thinking of last time we met and how much it had hurt.
‘Who the fuck are you any way? What has any of this got to do with you?’
‘I’m Joe Hunter. I’m Rink’s brother.’
I didn’t expound. I didn’t need to tell him that Rink and I were as close as if we shared the same blood. Let the fucker wonder. All he needed to know was that I was prepared to fight tooth and nail to save my friend and his mother.
‘You think you’re a bad ass,’ he sneered.
‘I know what I am. I also know what you are. Coward.’
‘Fuck you,’ he said, not rising to the bait.
‘Let my mother go. I’ll bring you the old men in exchange for her.’ Rink had straightened, showing Markus his palms.
‘That isn’t an option now. I can take Yukiko, and I can find the other two in my own good time. I don’t need anything from you except to shut the fuck up.’
Inwardly I smiled. Not that it was a happy situation by any stretch of the imagination, but Rink’s words had got the rise I’d been hoping for from Markus. I wanted him angry, and his mind confused by conflicting messages. He didn’t know that Rink was bluffing – he would no sooner hand over the two old guys than exchange Yukiko’s life for his.
‘Let her go, Markus. It’s over,’ I said.‘The police know your identity and they will catch you. You can help yourself by sparing Yukiko now.’
‘I killed a cop,’ Markus pointed out. ‘Nothing will help me. I’ll go to prison for life for killing him, so I might as well take the others. It’s not as if they can extend my sentence beyond life, is it?’
‘You didn’t kill a cop. He survived. There’s still a way to end this peaceably.’
‘I don’t want peace. I want the ones who murdered my father dead.’
‘Hurt my mom, and I guarantee you’ll never see life beyond these walls.’ Rink’s tone had changed. He was no longer attempting to reason, but trying to goad Markus into making a move on him, not on his mother.
But Markus wasn’t playing.
‘How do you suppose that’s going to happen? Seeing as I’m calling the shots now?’
‘The second you use that knife on my mom, I swear to God I’ll be on you. I’ll rip your fuckin’ head off your shoulders.’
Markus laughed. He glanced at Yukiko. ‘Must be great knowing you have such a loving son? Pity my dad didn’t get the same opportunity.’
‘Your dad was a piece of shit,’ Rink snapped.
‘Your dad was the piece of shit,’ Markus came back. ‘Gave me great pleasure when I killed the bastard. As it will when I skin your mother alive for what you just said.’
Yukiko and I had been holding eye contact. She appeared incredibly calm for someone seconds from death. For the first time she said something. ‘Kill me, but let my son go.’
Markus glanced down at her. ‘You’re the one who dies. I’m not interested in him.’ He did then what many would do by reflex: he used the blade of the knife to indicate Rink. The knife was away from Yukiko’s carotid artery for no more than a second, but it was the break I’d been waiting for. I snatched my SIG from my waistband, concealed from view all this time from Markus. I fired.
I was shooting to hit his hand, but my aim was poor and rushed.
The round hit the steel blade of the knife and shattered it into glittering shards. Some of the exploding splinters hit Yukiko, digging into her shoulder, but some also hit Markus in the face. He roared in surprise, leaping back from the old woman. He was still holding the rope.
Then everything happened quickly.
There was a blur of bodies.
Markus hauled back on the rope, but Rink was also moving and grasped the knot before the noose could cinch around Yukiko’s throat. Pulled with force the rope could tear her skull from her frail body.
Off balance, Yukiko was already falling.
Rink scooped her up in his other arm, wrestling to wrench the rope from Markus’s hands.
I couldn’t get a clear shot at Markus for the tussling bodies.
Then Rink broke free, hauling his mother from the murderer’s control and turning away.
Yukiko gasped for breath, her chest heaving.
Rink’s face was ashen as he looked down at his mother as she struggled for life. After everything, was her existing heart condition going to be the deciding factor?
‘Get her out of here, Rink,’ I shouted. ‘Leave this bastard to me.’
Markus had fled towards the rear of the room, an indistinct figure in the dimness. Through the hole in the roof where Rink had made his unexpected entrance starlight was our only mode of illumination. I shot at him as he leaped behind the piles of furniture. Markus returned fire.
I backpedalled, moving to keep my body between Markus’s aim and my friend as Rink carried his mom through the portal into the open air.
Furniture crashed down as the murderer fought to find a way out of the building. But he was stuck back there. I fired, now that Rink and Yukiko were out of the way, and began moving for him once more.
Markus fired twice.
I shot back, heard him curse. But he wasn’t hit, because there was no pain in his voice, only frustration.
He fired again, and I heard the unmistakable clack of the slide staying open.
He swore again. There was no sound of him slapping in a fresh magazine, or racking the slide to arm the gun.
‘Are you out of bullets, Markus? Now that’s a real shame.’
‘Fucker, I’ll still kill you.’
‘Come on then,’ I shouted back. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this.’
He didn’t understand at first.
I waited.
‘Well, punk, aren’t you going to come out and face me?’
‘You’re armed.’
‘I don’t need a gun for the likes of you.’ I threw my SIG to one side. What Markus didn’t know was that I too was out of bullets, but let the bastard think I was giving him an honourable go at fighting his way free. In truth I’d have preferred to put a couple rounds through his skull, but I was happy to go man to man. Plus, it would’ve become evident that I was out of ammo the second I tried to flush him from the furniture piles, so why waste energy and place myself in the compromising position of having to clamber over chairs and tables to get at him? ‘Come out, Markus. Show me what you’ve got.’
Chapter 42
Markus came forward, but he paused as he checked me out. I had the door to my back and presented only a solid silhouette to him. Perhaps he thought I was still carrying another concealed weapon.
‘Quit stalling,’ I told him. ‘You were happy to beat old people to death, not too keen when you’re up against someone your own age?’
‘I don’t fear you.’
‘You should.’
‘I want to know something . . .’
I thought he was going to ask why it was so important for me to stand between him and the Ringtons. He wouldn’t understand. But that wasn’t it. He surprised me with his next question.
‘What happens if I win?’
‘Then you’re free to walk out of here,’ I said. Not that I was planning on allowing that to happen.
He studied me and I returned the favour. His body language betrayed him, even in the dim starlight. I could tell that he was bunching himself, readying himself to make his attack, thinking maybe he had a good chance of escape after all. He was a big guy, fit, powerful and relatively healthy – but for where I’d shot him in the ribs, but that had proven a minor injury. He was obviously tough, being employed in the transportation of dangerous felons you had to be reasonably handy in a fight, and the presence of the makiwara back at his house told me he practised his unarmed skills regularly. The thing was, it was one thing throwing your weight around when manhandling shackled prisoners and old men incapable of putting up much resistance, quite another when facing someone determined to hit you back. I fancied my odds at being the one to walk out.
