Over the past few years I’d been inside the Ringtons’ house on dozens of occasions. I couldn’t equate the smouldering heap of timbers with the neat home that Yukiko and Andrew always kept. Fire crews were on the scene. They had fought to contain the fire, but all their valiant attempts were for nothing. The house was burned to the foundations, and all that remained were charred heaps unrecognisable as the furniture that once decorated the rooms, and the stubs of the walls that once contained them. Even the stone chimneystack had fallen, brought down when the roof collapsed. It was as if someone had taken a painting of the neighbourhood and dropped a splash of ink on the canvas, obliterating the once beautiful space where the house stood. I had to shake the image, unreal as it seemed: this was not oil on canvas but a real place. Those people who once lived there were also real. People I’d grown to love as much as I did my own flesh and blood.
As I observed firefighters sift among the wreckage, seeking out hotspots to dampen down, I felt as if one of those hidden embers had lodged in my heart. I would not allow it to be smothered, because I wanted it to flare into being and fuel me in the hours to come. Since this started I’d concerned myself with avoiding the notice of the police, but that caution had hindered me. Now it was a case of the law be damned. This was a personal attack on my loved ones and no one would stand in my way as I avenged it.
I looked at my friend, and my rage must have been nothing in comparison to his.
Rink stood as solid as a granite boulder next to me. He hadn’t moved in some time as he too surveyed the wreckage of his family home. I wondered what memories he had of the place, but at the same time knew that was not how his mind was working. He was not thinking of the material worth of the place, but of the spiritual. More than the fact his mother had been snatched from her home, this was where his father had died, and the burning of the place was the ultimate insult to his memory.
Bridget Lanaghan had not recovered from the knock on her head before the paramedics arrived. Thankfully she was only unconscious, and the medics were able to stabilise her and reassured us that the prognosis for a full recovery was good. My greatest regret was that she had not been able to tell us anything before the ambulance left, but I’d live with it. Better that she was looked after, and brought back to health than I encourage her to speak while so poorly. Others could answer my questions.
There were still a number of neighbours moving in the distance, beyond the cordon set up by the fire trucks and their unravelled hoses. I looked for the dog walker. I hoped he could tell us more about what he had witnessed. He had seen Yukiko and Bridget Lanaghan together, but he said that the fire was already underway by then and that Yukiko had asked him to call the emergency services. But had he been walking his dog before that? Had he seen any others near the house, a vehicle of some kind? I wanted confirmation that Markus Colby was responsible for this… or was it someone else? I could not see the man with the dog. Perhaps another neighbour had seen something. I was about to move away from Rink’s side, to go ask, and did not expect the verification that came next.
Beyond where we’d abandoned Andrew’s car, there was another. It was familiar to me.
The lights from the fire trucks danced across the car’s windshield, but I could make out the form of a man inside.
That spark in my heart flared.
I touched Rink on his elbow.
‘The sand-coloured car is back,’ I said.
That was all the motivation either of us needed. We headed for the car, despite the presence of so many witnesses around us. As we approached, the driver started the vehicle and completed a reverse U-turn in the roadway. He did not speed off, but waited until we were back in Andrew’s car and also made the turn. Then he led us away. There was no urgency to get away, no attempt to lose us: he wanted us to follow.
Finally, a few blocks away, he pulled into the forecourt of a vehicle repair shop that was closed for the night.
He got out the car, leaning on the open door as he checked around. There was no one about, only the occasional car passing on the street. He’d have been better off doing this where there were plenty of others.
Rink and I approached him. It was the bruiser that Rink had knocked out in Parnell’s apartment at Hayes Tower. He knew he wasn’t a physical match for either of us. He flicked back the tail of his jacket to show the gun on his hip as he stepped into the open. We didn’t bother showing ours.
‘What are Chaney’s terms?’ Rink demanded.
There was no need for preamble. It was apparent what had happened back at the house. Our warning that Chaney leave town had fallen on deaf ears and the bastard had gone through with yet another tit-for-tat attack. Why he’d chosen to snatch Yukiko was out of character though. It didn’t surprise me when the man spoke next.
‘Your mother for Parnell and Faulks.’
‘What the hell does Chaney want them for?’ Rink demanded.
‘He doesn’t. His new friend does.’
It didn’t take any thinking about. It was obvious who Chaney’s new buddy was.
‘So it’s true then? Shit does stick to shit.’
I smiled at Rink’s summation.
‘When and where?’ Rink went on.
The big guy had been holding something in his opposite hand, concealed behind the open car door. For a millisecond I thought he was going to haul out another gun and force us into his car, but that wasn’t it. He threw a folded map on the floor at Rink’s feet. Rink didn’t bend to retrieve it.
‘Two hours.’ The man nodded down at the folded map. ‘X marks the spot, as they say. Be there with Parnell and Faulks and you get your mother back. No cops. No weapons. The first sign of either and your mom dies. Understood?’
‘Understood?’ Rink asked me.
‘Crystal clear,’ I said, half turning as if to retreat to our car. Then I turned back. ‘Actually, there is one other thing…’
The man lifted his chin, a reflexive jerk at my question.
My hand came up and my SIG cracked.
‘Why are you still standing up when you’re dead?’ I finished.
The question was lost on the thug. My words had arrived after the bullet that drilled his left eye and then fragmented against the orbital bone, sending slivers of white-hot lead into all corners of his cranium.
The man tipped backwards, landing in a billow of grit on the garage forecourt. Apart from a little blood around his eye socket there was no hint of the untold damage within his skull; that was the beauty of a soft-nosed slug. No blowing off of heads.
‘Whatever happened to the idea of not shooting the messenger?’ Rink asked.
‘It was kill him now or kill him later. Either way he was going to end up dead. This way we gain an advantage… and a nice new car.’
‘You’re a step or two ahead of me,’ Rink said as he bent to retrieve the map. ‘What have you got in mind?’
‘Let’s get this asshole in the trunk first.’
I popped the trunk of the big sedan, and there was room even for the bruiser to fit inside. We couldn’t leave him here. Neither could we leave behind Andrew’s car. While Rink drove it a couple of blocks away, I checked that there was no one around who might have witnessed what had just occurred. Thankfully there wasn’t. I’d already taken note that the only CCTV camera in sight was positioned to cover the entrance of the auto shop, and was directed away from us. My car was an import with a stick shift, but the big sedan was an automatic. I’d driven enough of them — Andrew’s car included — that the different driving experience gave me no problems. I eased the car out of the lot, and drove to where I’d agreed to meet Rink. He was waiting by the kerb, Andrew’s car hidden from sight behind a row of shops like a mini-strip mall. He’d left the keys in the ignition, I guessed. This time tomorrow the car would be gone, stripped of its parts, the remainder burned on some vacant lot. He got in our new acquisition; slinging the weapons he’d brought on the back seat. Immediately I set off, my subconscious radar sending me towards the bay.
‘I’ve figured out your plan, brother,’ Rink said, as he unfolded the map. ‘They aren’t expecting us to arrive for two hours. They’ll think that we’ll have to go fetch Parnell and Faulks and will be preparing a welcoming party for us. They won’t be expecting us coming right now.’
‘That was my plan,’ I agreed. ‘So long as the idiot they sent wasn’t supposed to call them when he delivered the message, we’ve a good chance of surprising them.’
‘Did you check if he had a cell on him?’
‘None.’
Rink searched in the glove compartment but there wasn’t a phone there.‘Maybe he was going to use a call box.’
‘I doubt it,’ I said. ‘They probably expect that you’ll do exactly as you were told. They know how much your mom means to you, and think you’ll hand over the old guys without question…’
I left that hanging on purpose, gauging his response.
‘Well, that isn’t going to happen,’ he said. I didn’t think so, but thought it best to check. If we did make the exchange, in reality all that would result would be the deaths of all three of the original lynch party. Markus Colby would kill Yukiko and both the old men first chance he got. He’d already have tried to have us killed by then, his reason for recruiting Chaney and his gang. The rules of honour meant nothing to Markus, and what goes around comes around. Fair enough. The gloves were about to come off; actually they already had when I placed a slug in the guy back there. If he wanted dirty fighting then that was what he was going to get.
‘Someone will be watching,’ I said. ‘But they won’t be alarmed when they see this car arrive. Our buddy in the trunk probably had instructions to go back to lend extra firepower at the exchange.’
‘They won’t see me coming,’ Rink said, and it wasn’t an empty boast. ‘As we approach, let me out. They’re only expecting to see one guy in this car. They won’t be watching their backs for another.’
‘Where am I going?’ I asked.
Rink arched an eyebrow at the map he’d unfolded in his lap.
‘Somewhere I know well,’ he said, stabbing a finger at where someone had literally marked the map with a red X. I was surprised to note it was near Chabot Lake where we’d left the old men with Velasquez and McTeer. Rink went on. ‘When I used to visit my parents, my dad and me went hiking out there all the time. Right there —’ he touched the map once more, a half-inch from the X ‘— there used to be an old lodge house. I just bet that’s where they have my mom.’
‘Makes sense,’ I said, pushing the sedan towards the Bay Bridge. ‘Let’s go get her back.’