No Going Back - 07 Read online

  He watched a little longer, considering heading directly for the hotel, knocking hell out of the lobby staff and checking the records for Jay’s location. After that it would be a case of smashing into her room and doing to her what he’d planned all along. But something held him back, and it took him a moment or two to recognise the alien sensation of fear. What if Hunter was inside? He knew the term for his physical condition: congenital insensitivity to pain. Although he was incapable of feeling the neurological effects of pain it didn’t make him superhuman. It gave him greater staying power in a fight, but the truth had never escaped him: a bullet to his heart or brain would kill him as easily as anyone else.

  Recently he’d considered that he could be walking into a trap. The same feeling was with him now. Going into that hotel was tantamount to suicide, because he’d be heading directly into the sights of a gun, but this trap wouldn’t involve the police. If the cops had genuinely expected him to turn up at the Tipi Hotel he’d be in handcuffs by now. Somebody else was waiting in there for him and he knew who.

  Did Joe Hunter think he was dealing with some ignorant hick?

  He thought back to his conversation with Doug Stodghill and how the mechanic had told him that the private investigator had supposedly returned home. Stodghill had obviously been misinformed, and likely on purpose. He realised now that Joe Hunter had been laying plans for a rematch. Well, if that’s what the asshole wanted then that was what he was going to get. The difference being, Samuel wasn’t about to go charging in like some mad bull. It was time to change his approach and show Hunter just who he was dealing with.

  37

  That’s the only thing that will make you happy? When you kill Samuel Logan . . . or he kills you?

  I was in the lobby of the hotel, observing the comings and goings of guests and workers, watching for one man in particular. I’d been there since dawn, and was beginning to attract the attention of the lobby staff. They knew why I was there, but still they persisted in giving me funny looks: maybe my presence had them on edge, thinking that I would attract danger rather than deter it. They weren’t wrong. I didn’t want to cause them worry, but thought I’d give it a little while longer, because on a stake-out you have plenty of time for thinking.

  I was mulling over what Jay had asked me last night, and admit that it was a troubling notion. I can’t pinpoint why, but I did feel a need to redress things with her. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t offered the best argument. In fact, my words cheapened me somewhat, made me sound like a manic depressive bent on self-destruction.

  Or worse . . .

  Jay had left without comment, retiring to her room again. I liked her, and the last thing I wanted was for her to think I was some sort of demented thug with a death wish. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

  When I was with Arrowsake I did see and do some terrible things but at the time they had been a necessary evil. I’d hunted and killed men who were mass murderers, torturers, sadists and thieves working under the guise of freedom fighters and soldiers. They were neither; they were terrorists who made the lives of others unbearable. I’d had no qualms then about killing them, and the same remains true to this day. I feel justified in saying they deserved what they got.

  Maybe I’d tell Jay so.

  It wasn’t those bastards who haunted me; it was the innocent people I’d failed to help soon enough to make a difference. The military designated them as collateral damage; but that didn’t change a thing. It was the brutal murder of innocent people whatever euphemism they attached to it. Those were the deaths that preyed heaviest on my mind, and those I now worked so hard to avenge. I know I was juxtaposing one problem with another, and that facing Samuel Logan wouldn’t help any of those who had already died. Yet the point persisted: if I could stop even one bad man from hurting others then it went some way to redressing the balance. There was no room for animals like Samuel Logan, not when good people had perished to allow him his place on earth.

  I would only be happy when the bastard was dead and buried, and if that also meant my death then so be it. But that was what was troubling me now. When Jay asked her question I hadn’t answered because I couldn’t: I’d have been speaking for the both of us, and I didn’t have the right to map out her fate as casually as I did my own.

  It made me think about what the hell I was setting up here. I was inviting a brutal man to come after the women for my own selfish reasons. However well meaning, I was actually putting Nicole and Jay at risk, their parents as well. I almost left the lobby to call the group together and move them out before Samuel Logan showed up. But I didn’t. I wondered how remorseless an enemy Samuel was. Would he ever stop hunting the women?

  It was better to wait here and finish things as soon as possible, I decided, rather than subject them to constant fear while he was still on the loose.

  I only wished the madman would get a move on.

  38

  There were three of them, Native American boys though you wouldn’t think it to look at them. They didn’t embrace their heritage the way others of their generation did, but rather the Goth scene that had boomed in the past decade. Even in the sultry heat of the evening they were dressed in leather coats, heavy boots and eyeliner. One of them had a shaved head and enough metal piercings in his face to make him top heavy. The other two had long black hair, worn so that it concealed one each of their eyes. One had his hair parted to the left, the other the right. When they stood shoulder to shoulder they looked like mirror reflections.

  Samuel had been watching them for some time as they haunted the doorway of an abandoned shack in the back streets of Holbrook. Other kids came and went, their visits to meet with the Goths short and sweet. Cash changed hands for small bags of white powder. Samuel had tried cocaine on more than one occasion and had liked the effects but that wasn’t why he was interested in the small group.

  Arizona has a relaxed gun law: so long as a firearm isn’t loaded you can carry one without recrimination or fear of prosecution. That made Samuel’s task so much simpler than if he’d been in a more liberally minded state. He could possibly have picked up a weapon without much problem, but he wanted something that was ready to go, and chances were that the young hoods trading drugs in this shanty area were prepared to defend themselves from others who might have the idea to move in on their business. Once, as he’d watched them from the shadows of an alley opposite, he’d seen the bald one delve in his trouser pocket for a pack of cigarettes; his heavy leather coat was an encumbrance that he swept back out of his way and Samuel had recognised the semi-automatic pistol jammed in his belt. In all likelihood the other two would be similarly tooled up.

  Could he take three armed men?

  Damn right.

  These young punks had no idea. They were so open about their trade that they had grown sloppy. Customers regularly arrived without any of the gang checking them out first.

  A pale blue sedan car pulled up at the kerbside and a young white girl leaned out of the window. She waved a handful of dollars at the group, and Samuel watched as one of the mirror men went to her to deal through the open window. He could hear laughter. The car pulled away and the youth went back to join his buddies in the doorway. Samuel moved from the shadows of the alley and walked across the street towards them. Only the baldy saw him approaching as the other two were sharing a joke, probably at their recent female customer’s expense. The Goth didn’t seem perturbed by his sudden appearance, and his study of Samuel was cursory. He would see a middle-aged man in a suit and think he was some businessman suffering executive stress and seeking release for the evening.

  Maybe the bald one was more aware than Samuel initially gave him credit for because he suddenly hissed something to his friends and they turned quickly to face him. Of course, Samuel realised, another reason that a guy in a suit would approach them would be if that guy was a detective.

  ‘Relax, guys,’ Samuel said showing them his open hands. ‘I’m no cop.’


  The three eyed him up and down. They seemed interested in the bruises on his face. Maybe they thought he was an easy target for a mugging. That suited Samuel because it would make them underestimate him. They were tall guys, although enhanced by their thick-soled boots. Nevertheless Samuel barely stood as high as the shortest one’s eyeliner.

  ‘What do you want?’ The bald one was the elected leader.

  Samuel raised his brows, opened his palms by his sides. ‘I think that should be obvious.’

  ‘Show us the money,’ Baldy said.

  ‘I don’t have any money.’

  ‘Say what?’ The three shared incredulous glances. Then the baldy stuck out his hand and shoved Samuel’s shoulder. ‘Get the fuck outta here man, wasting our time.’

  Samuel glanced down at where the hand had touched. He dusted himself off. The three Goths made a loose semi-circle around him, puffing out their chests. Baldy had felt how solid he was under the suit, but the others hadn’t yet. Samuel peered directly at the bald one. ‘I don’t have money, but I still want to deal. Give me what I want and when I walk away you’ll all still be alive.’

  The mirror men laughed, their long hair swinging. The baldy pushed Samuel’s shoulder more forcefully this time. ‘Are you fucking insane?’

  Samuel grunted. ‘Yeah.’

  The laughter suddenly went brittle. His forthright answer was the last they expected.

  Baldy rolled his neck. ‘You need to walk away now, crazy man. You’re scaring off valuable paying customers.’

  Samuel took a look around. At a far intersection traffic flashed by, but there was no one else currently on the street.

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Yes. Now get outta here.’

  Samuel didn’t move.

  ‘Look, last chance. You go or we move you on,’ the baldy said.

  One of the mirror men said, ‘Don’t know why we’re giving this asshole any of our time. Kick his ass, Duane.’

  ‘Duane?’ Samuel twisted his lips into a sneer. ‘That doesn’t sound like the name of a tough guy.’

  ‘The fuck?’

  Samuel pointed at Duane’s right ear. The lobe was elongated, a thick steel circlet embedded in it. ‘Does something like that hurt?’

  Duane leaned in, shoving his chin directly in Samuel’s face. ‘Not as much as my fist in your face will, asshole. Now, last chance, get away from us.’

  ‘I thought the last time was my last chance. You should make yourself clear if you want people to understand.’ Samuel shot out his left hand and made a fist around Duane’s earlobe. He twisted counter-clockwise, and the baldy had no option but to go with it to avoid his ear ripping off. He let out a startled shriek. ‘See, that’s how you get someone’s attention,’ Samuel added.

  ‘Get your hands off him!’

  Samuel wasn’t sure which of the mirror men yelled at him. He didn’t care. He continued to twist Duane’s ear and the Goth reared up on his augmented boots, his spine arching backwards to alleviate the agony. His coat fell open and with his right hand Samuel tugged out the gun. Samuel wasn’t an aficionado of firearms but he thought the gun was a Glock. The butt felt heavy where he gripped it, indicating a full load. He lifted the gun so that it was aiming loosely at the mirror men.

  ‘I’m not an unreasonable man,’ he said. ‘Seeing as you gave me a chance, I’ll offer you the same terms. Leave now.’

  The mirror men didn’t know what to do. They looked at each other, then at their friend who was still writhing in Samuel’s grasp.

  Right Parting said, ‘Let him go, man.’

  Samuel exhaled. Then he shot the youth in the face.

  Left Parting let out a girlish scream as he watched his friend collapse to the ground. Samuel turned the gun on him. ‘See, last chance means last chance with me.’

  He shot the second youth. The bullet took him through the throat, cutting off his squeal of terror.

  But now Duane’s screams had grown louder.

  His howling was magnified threefold: he’d just watched his friends brutally gunned down, he thought he was next, and Samuel had just ripped the steel ring off – and the lobe it was attached to.

  The Goth fell to the ground, his hands trying to stem the flow of blood. His eyes were hollows of disbelief. He couldn’t get his legs to move, no matter how much he wanted to flee the scene.

  Samuel studied the ring between his fingers, the gun momentarily forgotten and hanging at his side. He used his thumb to rub off some of the adhering flesh then held the steel ring up to see it more clearly. It was a quarter-inch thick with a deep groove around its entire circumference. Samuel jiggled it round and allowed it to slip on to his pinky finger. He showed it to Duane. ‘Does this mean we’re going steady?’

  Duane let out another howl, then tried to propel himself away. His boot heels caught in the hem of his leather coat and he sprawled on his back. He rolled over, tried to get his feet under him, but Samuel stepped on his lower back, forcing him down in the dirt. ‘What, you’re breaking up with me already?’ Samuel asked. ‘Well, sorry Duane, but that just doesn’t work for me.’

  He leaned down and placed the muzzle of the gun to the nape of the youth’s neck. Duane squealed, but it was cut short. Pressed deep in the flesh of the youth’s neck, the retort of the Glock was muffled.

  He allowed the earring to slip from his finger. ‘We’re finished, Du-ane,’ he said.

  Somewhere a dog was barking. Samuel could hear startled voices rising in alarm. He surveyed the three dead boys scattered around him. Then he looked at the gun dispassionately. Not much fun to be had with a gun in your hand, he thought. But he could see its value.

  He went quickly to the mirror men. He could tell them apart now that they had different wounds. Neither had a firearm, but one of them had a bone-handled knife, the other a regular lock-knife. He pocketed both items, then went back to Duane and checked his coat pockets for extra ammunition. He didn’t find any, just a handful of small baggies with white powder. Samuel took them.

  The dog was barking louder now, or more correctly closer to him. The voices were also approaching.

  Samuel walked away quickly, escaping through the alley towards the main strip. He could hear the wailing of approaching sirens. He wasn’t too worried that he’d be identified as the shooter. In this neighbourhood, a middle-aged man in a suit would be the last person anyone would suspect.

  Back on the main strip he watched as two police cruisers swept by. He pursed his lips, deciding that this was as good a diversion as any. He began walking towards the hotel where Jay waited for him.

  39

  There were further questions to be answered by both Nicole and Jay, and I chaperoned them to the police station. Jameson Walker and Herb Challinor had come along as well, but they were currently consulting with legal representatives hired by Jameson. While they were all led into offices behind the scenes and offered refreshments by a chirpy policewoman, I got a hard plastic chair in the public area at the front. The SIG Sauer nestled in the hollow of my back felt exceedingly heavy, but even at the police station I didn’t want to relinquish it. I felt very conspicuous, as if every uniform in the place was aware of my concealed weapon, but while I sat there quietly there was no reason for a cop to come and shake me down.

  I had a long wait, but it was time well spent for the family groups when finally they came out. They were all exhibiting varying degrees of relief, sharing smiles all round and shaking hands with the detectives and attorneys. It looked like they had fulfilled their duty to the investigative team and were finally allowed to go home. I stood up, ensuring my shirt concealed my gun. I watched the families hugging again as they made their way towards me. I was happy for them, but there was a needle of annoyance jabbing at me. If they all headed for home, that would mean I wouldn’t get the opportunity to finish things with Samuel Logan. I’d be leaving with them, before returning to Florida.

  Jameson came over, extending his hand to me. I took it, though I didn’t feel like cong
ratulations were in order.

  ‘We’re done here at last,’ Jameson said.

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘I’m taking everyone to Cape Cod for a holiday; to help the girls get over this.’

  ‘The threat’s still out there, Jameson.’

  ‘The police say not. After he murdered Doug Stodghill, he stole a car from his garage. They think Samuel Logan has run away.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You’re welcome to come if you like. Up to Cape Cod, I mean.’

  ‘It’ll take more than one man to offer round-the-clock protection.’

  ‘I didn’t mean you should come as a bodyguard.’

  ‘The girls still need protecting.’

  ‘So bring in Jared and whoever else you need.’

  ‘It would be much better if I’d ended things here.’

  ‘Well, that’s not going to happen now. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning, and like I said, you’re welcome to come with us if you want to.’

  I looked up and saw Jay staring at me. What was that expression on her face? Hopeful? I stared back, thinking.

  She lowered her head, breaking the connection. Nicole stood alongside her and they entwined their fingers, lifting their hands up and down as if repeating a pact. Then Nicole released her grip and walked towards me. I wasn’t expecting what happened next. She took hold of my hand and led me to the door.