The Lawless Kind (18 page)

At the head of the street was a wall. Nothing as substantial as the one surrounding Molina’s home a little farther over; this was mud brick and adobe, and beyond it was a pretty garden that would be colourful in daytime, but was now a series of gnarly silhouettes on a sequence of low terraces. Rink bounded over the wall, then used it as a barricade to cover me as I clambered over less gracefully.

‘Couple of the bastards down there,’ he said, indicating the distant cross street. ‘They’ve spotted their buddies and are heading this way.’

Ignoring them, we moved into the garden, tracing a route through cacti and small shrubs that tugged at our clothing. Rink paused to check the way we’d come, but there was no view downhill. Which meant we were out of sight of our hunters. We found a gate and exited the garden on to a narrow road that wound a trail up to where we’d left our car. Maybe we’d get away without further bloodshed.

No sooner had that wishful thought struck than headlights blazed behind us and another SUV came streaking after us.

‘Yup, they’re determined fuckers,’ Rink said, echoing my words from earlier.

Chapter 22

This SUV was travel-stained. Dried mud pasted the wheel arches and trail-dust smeared the windows. The wiper blades had cut wide swathes through the grime on the windshield. I doubted that the vehicle was one used by Molina’s men around his plush home, which meant its occupants weren’t his hired hands. Not his usual crew at any rate. These had been brought in and it didn’t take too much imagination to guess who they were.

‘Fucking Marshall,’ I spat.

‘What are they doing just sitting there?’ Rink asked.

When the SUV had first come roaring round the bend a similar attack to the one down the hill appeared to be underway. Yet, as Rink and I fanned out, finding concealment behind a low wall and a tree bole respectively, the brakes had screeched and the SUV came to a halt, rocking on its chassis. Because of the glare of its lights – on high beam – and the dirt on the windshield, nothing could be made out of those within.

‘Maybe he’s having second thoughts.’

‘More like he’s waiting for reinforcements. He’s probably heard about what happened to those other punks and doesn’t fancy a similar outcome.’

‘Makes sense.’

‘Or he could be a coward,’ Rink said scornfully. ‘He ran away the last time we met. You sure he’s the hard bastard you say he is?’

‘Back in the day I knew nobody tougher,’ I said. ‘But who knows how much he’s changed over the years?’

‘Back in the day, I bet he wouldn’t have worked for a scumbag like Jorge Molina.’

I hadn’t mentioned my suspicions regarding whom Marshall was assisting. I hadn’t been sure – still wasn’t to be honest – but the presence of Molina’s guest had given me a good idea. Rink didn’t trust Walter Conrad as it was, and the inclusion of this man in the picture wouldn’t help.

‘Whatever his game is, we can’t afford to sit here like this.’

‘So let’s go and kill the fucker,’ Rink urged.

‘Not yet, I want to see how he plays things first.’

‘You want to give the asshole a chance?’

‘To explain himself,’ I said.

‘Hunter, that frog-gigger tried to kill us out in the desert. Now you want to go speak to him like he’s an old buddy?’

‘When he ambushed us, I don’t think he knew who he was up against. I think it’s when he saw my face, realised who he was attacking, that he chose to back off.’

‘He ran away because he saw our back-up team arriving and knew he was outgunned. Same thing he’s doing now.’

‘We don’t know that. Could be half a dozen gunmen in that rig.’

‘And you want to walk over and find out?’

Without answering, I stood up slowly. No way was I relinquishing my gun, but I held it ostentatiously away from my body.

‘Shit!’ Rink didn’t do more than spit out the curse, before he leaned out round the bole of the tree to offer cover should things turn out differently than I hoped.

‘I’m just going to speak to him, then we’re out of here.’ I stepped over the low wall and began walking towards the SUV, trying not to limp. The car’s headlights caused me to squint as I approached to within twenty yards. I could sense their scrutiny but still couldn’t make out who was inside, or how many of them. In hindsight walking out there without a get-out plan was bordering on lunacy, but I trusted Marshall not to gun me down in cold blood. The lights were lowered, and I was now able to see two figures in the front seats. If there were others in the back I couldn’t tell. I halted in the centre of the road, my SIG pointed away from the car.

The tableau held for what felt like a lifetime. From a distance came the strains of an emergency siren. The local cops had joined the hunt and it wouldn’t be long before a squad car came our way.

‘Marshall,’ I called out. ‘Let’s not fuck about any longer. If you’re going to try to kill me, bring it on. If not, let’s speak.’

‘Tell the Jap to lower his gun,’ replied a gruff voice I hadn’t heard for the best part of two decades.

‘Don’t worry, my friend isn’t going to shoot unless you try something dodgy.’

The passenger door opened and out climbed a tall figure, also holding a pistol down by his side. It wasn’t James Lee Marshall, but his lickspittle buddy, McAdam. With slow deliberation he lifted his gun and aimed it loosely my way. His shoulders and neck were tight with restrained anger.

‘What’s good for the goose and all that shit,’ said Marshall easing out the driver’s side. ‘Your boy shoots me, McAdam shoots you, Hunter.’

‘Fair enough. Hopefully neither of us needs to get shot, eh?’

‘Mind you, after the beating you gave McAdam earlier, I wouldn’t blame him if he put a round in your gut.’

Aiming my warning at his friend, I said, ‘Just remember my parting words, McAdam, before you try anything stupid.’

Trying to sound tough in front of his leader, McAdam laughed at my bravado. The sound was strained because he knew what would happen if he tried to get the drop on me. Chances were he’d hit me, but it’d only be a split second before Rink took his face off.

‘I’m not afraid of you, arsehole. Never was.’ Trying to regain face, McAdam grinned manically, showing a glistening gap between his front teeth. His whining Glaswegian tone didn’t do much to convince me.

‘Sounds like your balls are still aching,’ I said.

‘Fuck you, Hunter.’

‘It’d take a bigger man than you.’

Marshall shook his head as he came forward. ‘Christ, it sounds like the good old days listening to you two. Never did see eye to eye, did you?’

‘Never had that problem with you, Marshall.’

‘Yeah. How the world turns, eh?’

Fearlessly he’d approached to within ten feet of my position, angling his body so that he could see Rink and the gun that was aimed at his head. The beams from the SUVs headlamps struck his right eye, and it shone glassily, like a Christmas bauble. He’d turned side on so that I wasn’t on his blindside.

‘It looks as if life’s treated you OK.’ Indeed, apart from the obvious glass eye, and a scar that cut a razor slash across his cheekbone, Marshall looked remarkably fit for a man who’d made violence his lifelong habit. He stood over six feet, a tad taller than me, and was broad-shouldered and long-limbed. His sweat-dampened shirt clung to a chest almost as well developed as Rink’s. It was only the scattering of grey at his temples, and the thinning of the hair on top that spoke of the two decades since last I’d laid eyes on him.

‘Can’t say the same for you, Joe. When we came round that corner back there and caught you in the headlights, I had to take a second look. Shit, man, have you been bathing in a slaughterhouse?’

I had pretty much forgotten how bad I looked. There was blood all over me from the dozens of cuts received during the earlier gunfights. My clothes were frayed and torn in a couple of places, dust and blood adhered to the material as sticky mud, and dark sweat stains showed under my armpits. Yeah, I had to admit: I looked like shit. ‘Trust me, my wounds are superficial.’

‘You always were one lucky son of a bitch. Could have done with you when my convoy was hit, and I ended up with this.’ He touched a fingertip to his blinded orb. ‘You’d have probably caught the fucking rocket in your hands and lobbed it back at the ragheads.’

‘Heard you were hit by an IED.’

‘RPG,’ he corrected. ‘But you know how people like to use the buzzwords, right?’

See-sawing my head, I said, ‘Shame it had to happen. You must have been pissed at the army when you were medically discharged. Is that why you’re now happy to work for an arsehole like Jorge Molina? A dig at your old employers?’

He smiled, glancing down at the road. ‘I’m not working for any wetback Mexican drug dealer. But I think you already guessed that.’

I didn’t confirm that I’d guessed who his employer was. Let him confirm things for me.

‘So why try and stop us out in the desert?’

‘We were misinformed about your intentions.’

‘Misinformed how?’

‘After what you and your crew did to that coyote gang back in Arizona, it was believed you were heading out here to sow further dissent among the competing cartels. We were sent in to ensure you weren’t successful.’

‘You were told we were coming to Hermosillo to assassinate Molina?’

He didn’t have to answer. His smile said it all. It also confirmed that they were working for the man I’d seen in Molina’s company, because how else would he know about our fight with the coyotes? ‘When you had the opportunity to rub out Molina you didn’t take it. That tells me that killing that bean-eater was never your intention.’

‘We’re not interested in him.’

‘I know that now. You came to steal his son.’

‘We’re here to liberate a US citizen. Molina kidnapped the boy.’

‘Whatever,’ he said.

‘So that’s why we aren’t trading bullets now? You know that we aren’t here to kill your mark, so there’s no beef between us?’

Marshall shrugged. ‘No sense in fighting you when the job’s been done.’

A quick glance at McAdam told me that he was still pissed at me for beating the shit out of him in the alley, but he didn’t look as if revenge was on his mind.

‘Good to know,’ I said. I trusted Marshall’s word, just not far enough to offer him my hand in friendship. ‘We go our separate ways then?’

‘For now.’

‘That doesn’t sound too promising.’

‘Right now I’ve followed instruction to the letter. Can’t guarantee those instructions won’t change.’

‘Shame if they do,’ I said. ‘I’d hate to have to kill you.’

‘Same here, mate. But we’re both professionals, Joe. You do what you have to.’

‘I don’t even want to kill you, McAdam,’ I said, directing my words at the Scotsman, ‘but I meant what I said earlier. If either of you come at me again you’d best come shooting.’

‘We’re on the same page then. No hard feelings?’ Marshall held me with his one good eye, and up close like this I noticed that it jiggled slightly, compensating for the lack of binocular vision.

‘That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? You don’t have to accept any new instructions.’

‘Make me an offer I can’t refuse,’ Marshall said, his lip twitching. ‘Exceed what we’re being paid and I’ll walk away, taking all my lads with me.’

Snorting, I shook my head. Marshall grunted out a laugh. He’d never been expecting a deal. He was reminding me that this was all about the money. Fuck the right or wrong of it. Fuck old friendships.

‘Here are a few words of advice for you, lads. Your employer summarily executed the last person that worked for him when his services were no longer required. You think you can trust him to pay you, or is he planning a similar severance scheme for you when this is over?’

‘I’ll make sure I keep my good eye on the prick,’ Marshall said. Then he nodded towards Rink. ‘You and your pal best get going – sounds like those wetbacks are on their way.’

I pinched my bottom lip between my teeth, releasing it with a sigh. ‘I hope it’s another twenty years ’til I see you again, Marshall.’

‘Me too.’