The Lawless Kind (4 page)

When they were done, the receptionist handed Kirstie a key card and directed her through the lobby to a bank of elevators to take to reach her room on the second floor. I moved to intercept her, and a momentary flicker of anxiety skipped across her features. Made me wonder how aware Kirstie was of the dangerous situation she’d entered into.

‘I’m Joe Hunter,’ I said to waylay any fear. ‘You were told to expect me?’

She glanced at the reception desk, but the clerk was taking no notice of us. Kirstie gave a faint smile, then leaned a little closer, seeming to enjoy the cloak-and-dagger situation. ‘You were at the airport,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you introduce yourself then?’

I was surprised that she’d noticed me in the arrivals lounge, but chose not to let it show. ‘It wasn’t the right time or place.’

‘You were watching for someone following me? You can relax; no one but you has raised my suspicions since arriving in Tucson.’

Kirstie worked in public relations, and had more than one bestselling mystery author and a couple of mid-list sportsmen on her client list. It didn’t seem a career predisposed to spotting a covert tail, but thinking about it, I realised that she’d be forever on the lookout for crazy fans dogging her clients. It was probably in her job description to dissuade or redirect anyone intent on monopolising her clients’ valuable time at public events. On the other hand she hadn’t spotted the craziest man of all when she’d allowed Molina to get close to her.

‘It was good that you didn’t let on when you spotted me,’ I said, ‘because some of the people at Molina’s beck and call may not be what you expect.’

‘I’m not in the habit of approaching dangerous-looking individuals. Well . . . not always.’ Again she gave me the fleeting smile, this time one intended to tease. ‘Anyway, I probably know better than you do the type at Jorge’s beck and call.’ She pronounced the man’s name with a G – calling him George – and not with the Hispanic H as I’d been doing.

I conceded the second point, and began to walk towards the bank of elevators. But I had to wonder why I struck her as looking dangerous. I suppose she would have expected certain skills from the man going into Mexico to retrieve her son. Kirstie strode to keep up with me, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. She was still lugging her carry-on bag and purse, but she didn’t look the type who expected help, so I didn’t offer. In her line of work, she’d have to be the liberated type.

‘Let’s go upstairs,’ I said as I punched the call button on the elevator panel.

‘That’s a phrase that has come back to haunt me,’ she muttered.

Letting it pass, I said, ‘You won’t be staying in your room, just in case any of Jorge’s people have managed to get by us.’

‘You really think that Jorge is watching me?’

‘You’re currently engaged in a lawsuit to win custody of your son . . . Hell, yeah. He’ll be watching your every move.’

‘He’s indifferent to me, Joe. He’s too busy watching his rivals to pay me any mind.’

‘It’s thinking like that could get us both killed.’

The doors opened, and I waited, checking that there was nobody inside the lift. I’d positioned us to the left of the open doors, and if there were somebody inside they’d have to lean out to spot us. Luckily no face – or gun – poked out. I allowed Kirstie to enter first then, after a cursory inspection of the lobby behind us, I followed. As the doors closed I hit the ‘basement’ button.

‘I thought you said we were going upstairs.’

‘I did.’

Kirstie gave me a bemused look. In the close confines of the lift her perfume was stronger, but no less pleasant. But I caught a different tang, one of fear. For all her self-assuredness, Kirstie was uncomfortable in my presence. Or perhaps it was because I’d reminded her just how dangerous her ex-beau was.

‘So where are we going?’

‘Out of here.’

‘We’re leaving the hotel?’

‘It doesn’t take someone with Jorge Molina’s connections to trace you here.’

‘But I’ve had my luggage taken up to my room.’

‘Yeah. That was a good idea. If anyone checks they’ll think you’re still booked in.’ Now it was my turn to offer a teasing smile.

‘But my things . . .’

‘We can get you new stuff. Anyway–’ I checked out her formal blouse and skirt – ‘you’ll need something more casual than this stuff you’re wearing.’

‘I have casual clothing in my suitcase.’

‘It’ll have to stay there. Sorry, Kirstie, but we have to leave without anyone noticing.’

The elevator doors swept open on to a corridor heavy with the aroma of chlorine, and though we were separated from the indoor swimming pool by a set of closed doors the air was cloying with humidity. From further along the corridor came the sound of runners pounding the treadmills in the health club. A muscular man stood in the hall just outside the lift, but he was expected. Kirstie eyed Rink’s looming figure.

‘And you thought I looked dangerous.’ I smiled. ‘How are things looking, Rink?’

‘Good to go,’ my friend replied. He was wearing an ear bud, which he tapped. ‘Coming out now, Harve. ETA twenty seconds.’

Harvey must have given the all-clear at his end, because Rink merely inclined his head for us to follow.

Kirstie held back.

‘Kirstie,’ I said. ‘If you want your son back, you’ve got to trust us, OK?’

‘I want him back more than anything,’ she said, as if my words were an insult. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes. If it means trusting my life to strangers, then I’ll do that too.’

Holding her stare for a moment I watched the heat of anger slide away. In its place was a new look. One of desperation. Meeting me for the first time, Kirstie had projected the professional image of a woman determined to rise above the trials she was up against, but under the bravado she was simply a mother terrified for her child’s welfare. The flinty look went out of her gaze as tears began to well. I squeezed her arm reassuringly. ‘So, come on. I’ll introduce you to the others later.’

Rink led the way past the health club and into a corridor marked Fire Exit. Doors at the end were armed with a day alarm, but Rink had already jimmied it so that it wouldn’t sound. He pushed the door open a sliver as he cocked his head to listen for instruction from Harvey. He gave us a nod, and pushed outside.

Before Kirstie went through the exit I pulled out a baseball cap and jammed it on her hair. Then I shucked off my jacket and hung it around her shoulders. ‘Pull up the collar and keep your head down,’ I instructed as I placed one arm round her back and ushered her towards the van Harvey had reversed close by. Rink opened the doors and helped Kirstie step inside the cargo area; between us she was hustled out of sight within seconds. Bench seats ran down both sides of the interior and I guided her to the one on the right. I moved to sit opposite as Rink closed the doors and went to join Harvey in the front. Before we’d settled in, Harvey hit the gas and drove us away from the hotel.

‘That was a bit extreme,’ Kirstie said from beneath the peak of the cap.

‘But necessary,’ I concluded. ‘You can look up now if you wish.’

Kirstie did so, peering at me in a different way than before. Perhaps the ease with which we’d just snatched her gave her hope that we’d be able to do the same for her boy. I didn’t think things would be as easy as that.

Chapter 5

The mid-afternoon sun was casting razor blades of light off the windows of the hotel as we approached. Unlike the one near the airport, this was a family-owned place, off the beaten track and less likely to be on the radar of anyone seeking Kirstie’s current whereabouts. The hotel was a small, original dwelling in the adobe style, but lodge accommodation had been erected on the undulating desert grounds behind it. The hotel looked dusty and sun-parched but an effort had been made at sprucing up the grounds, with roads lined by stone-edging painted white, and neat beds of sturdy desert flowers and shrubs. It was situated approximately ten miles to the south-west of Tucson, but still remote enough that you could imagine you were in the middle of nowhere.

Under bogus details Harvey had arranged accommodation in one of the two-bedroom lodges, and had paid upfront for a couple of nights should we need them. He had collected the keys earlier, so there was no need to check in at the main house. Harvey drove the van past the adobe house to the rearmost lodge. Rink opened the back doors and that was when the searing glint of sun hit me. I scrambled out of the van and put my back to the house, shielding my eyes as Kirstie tentatively followed.

‘Where are we?’

‘Somewhere we can relax and go over plans for getting your boy back,’ I said.

‘Will Conrad be joining us?’

I was caught out by her reference to Walter. I hadn’t checked if Kirstie actually knew that he was her grandfather: from the formal use of his surname, I guessed not.

‘No. He won’t be coming.’

‘Oh? I had the impression that he was going to oversee everything.’

I patted my shirt pocket, indicating my cell phone. ‘I’ll be in touch with him if need be. Don’t worry–’ I inclined my chin towards where my friends were approaching the lodge – ‘we can handle this without him.’

‘Conrad’s a bit strange, isn’t he?’ Kirstie said as she hitched up her bags.

‘Very strange.’

‘You said I should trust you, Joe, but I know nothing about you. I don’t know much about Conrad either. And yet here I am.’ She paused to squint at the sand-blown landscape. Then towards the lodge where Harvey was busy unlocking the door. ‘What have I gotten myself into?’

I could have asked myself the same question. It wasn’t the first time that we had accepted the job of liberating a child from a dangerous situation. On the last occasion circumstances were not all that we had been led to believe; we’d ended up in a cat-and-mouse pursuit with a particularly dangerous individual.The same would likely happen again. Jorge Molina would not allow us just to run off with his boy, and with the resources at his disposal, our trip back from Mexico would not be a comfortable one. Walter had intimated that it would be best for all involved if Molina did not survive our invasion of his home. Perhaps he was right, but the notion of becoming a hired killer never did rest easy with me. Terminations on behalf of Queen and Country were a different matter and I loathed the idea that we were being pressed into becoming assassins again as much as Rink did. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered what was most important to Walter: that his great-grandson was liberated or that Molina was put in his grave. The latter wasn’t something I was prepared to raise with Kirstie.

‘Let’s get inside out of the heat,’ I said, while throwing shut the van doors. ‘I’ll make the introductions with Rink and Harvey and then we’ll get down to business, eh?’

‘The sooner the better. I want Benjamin back where he belongs.’

This time I didn’t ask, just took her tote bag from her. She paused, then fell into step without comment. Her heels weren’t exactly suitable for the terrain, and I hoped she’d had the presence of mind to put a pair of sneakers in her bag.

Cool air washed over us as we entered the lodge. Housekeeping had been by and turned on the A/C. A large fan whirred noisily in the centre of the room, the breeze it kicked up tugging at the drapes over the windows. The way people do when entering an unfamiliar space, Rink and Harvey were busy checking out the other rooms and closet spaces.

‘Got a coffee-maker back here,’ Harvey announced from the kitchen. Music to my ears.

Harvey came back into the living area and stuck out a hand. As ever his fingernails were well manicured, mother-of-pearl nails glinting in the spill of light from outside.

‘You must be wondering what kind of company you’ve fallen into, Kirstie? Well, let me be the first to reassure you . . . as ugly as Hunter and Rink are, they’re not bad guys.’ He grinned, showing teeth. ‘I’m Harvey Lucas, the brains of the outfit.’

Kirstie accepted his hand but released it quickly with an equally brief glance at me.

‘Intelligence ain’t all it’s cracked up to be,’ Rink said, coming forward. ‘Not when there’s not an ounce of common sense to direct it.’

‘Rink,’ Harvey chided. ‘Don’t confuse common sense with being plain common. We can all see the corn husk sticking out your ear.’

‘Yep. I’m a country boy and proud.’ Rink offered his hand. ‘I’m Jared Rington, but you can call me Rink, OK?’

Kirstie shook the proffered hand, her slim fingers lost in Rink’s huge mitt.