Chapter 30

There was nothing that Larry Bolan desired more than to have Joe Hunter dead at his feet. The only problem was that he hadn’t planned to have it this way. He wanted to hurt the man first. Hurt him badly. To shoot Hunter while he was lying in a ditch at the side of a field in the middle of nowhere just didn’t sit right with him.

He’d driven here with no firm plan in mind. If Huffman knew he had killed Jim Aitken and Judge Wallace he’d hardly greet him with open arms. On the contrary, the men that Huffman had brought in to stop Hunter would be set against Larry if he showed up at Huffman’s door. Anyone with sense would steer clear of Quicksilver Ranch.

But Larry had a good reason for heading to Huffman’s place. He knew that Huffman would have brought Kate Piers here. Joe Hunter had proven to be capable back in Little Fork, and Larry had quite correctly surmised that Hunter would head here too.

He just hadn’t thought he’d find him so soon.

Larry had seen the smoke first. Then the chopper circling like a vulture scoping out the land for food. He even heard the rattle of gunfire over the constant rumble of the old Cadillac’s wheels on the rutted road. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

Speeding along the road, he’d seen the chopper drop low and deposit two guys with machine-guns on the ground. The guys had spread out, rattling bullets through a crashed Land Rover. There was the wreckage of a second vehicle on the road ahead.

Larry had stopped the Cadillac, and, using the far shoulder of the road as cover from the men on the ground, he’d raced the last hundred yards or so towards the wreckage. The car was too mangled to be recognisable, but enough was left for him to use it as a shield to move closer. No one noticed him. They were too intent on a target scrambling along a ditch on the other shoulder of the road. Larry only got flashes of the figure crawling away from him, but he knew it could be only one man. He could feel it like a lodestone drawn to a magnet: the man in the ditch was Trent’s murderer.

Larry saw one of the gunmen charge round the Land Rover and jump into the ditch. Hunter hadn’t seen him. He was trading rounds with the other man who was approaching from the other side. Larry almost rose up to shoot the running gunman, but then he saw blood punch out of the man’s body as he staggered and fell. Another round barked and the man didn’t get up. Larry raised his eyebrows. He had to change his estimation of Joe Hunter — he was proving more than capable.

Then he decided, no, he’s as easily killed as any man. The second gunman had seized the moment to aim his M16 assault rifle directly at Hunter. Plus the chopper was racing in and another man with a rifle was getting a bead on Hunter’s prone body.

Larry didn’t have more than a second to decide. He wasn’t about to let any of Huffman’s punks have the satisfaction of finishing Hunter. Hunter was his to kill.

‘Hey!’

The man with the assault rifle glanced up. He saw the Desert Eagle pointing at him and Larry blasted his head right off. The Desert Eagle was a piece of work, he decided.

The guy in the chopper snapped his gaze from the dead man, looking for where Larry crouched behind the wreckage. Larry shot him too. The Magnum load ripped a hole out of the rifleman, low down in his groin. The man’s legs went out from under him and he fell screaming from the chopper. He landed, boneless, on the earth and didn’t move again.

The chopper pilot got a good look at Larry. If the chopper got away, then Huffman would definitely be pissed with Larry. He fired at the pilot. But the man had pulled on the controls, swinging the chopper away. Not that it mattered: the bullet from the Desert Eagle smashed through the engine casing and the chopper lost power as smoke began blowing from the hole. Larry watched as it lost height and caromed into the field where its rotors snapped off and the body rolled over twice and then erupted into a massive fireball. The pilot wouldn’t be telling tales to Huffman now.

Quickly Larry marched out from behind the wreck, moving purposefully towards where Hunter lay in the ditch. He’d have to be careful. Hunter was armed. He looked like he was damn good with that pistol too. However, Larry had one big advantage. Hunter wouldn’t be expecting him.

Larry pointed the gun directly at Hunter’s head.

‘Drop your weapons, punk,’ Larry growled.

Hunter’s face was a picture.

‘Now, asshole. I won’t tell you again.’

Hunter exhaled, but he didn’t put down his guns.

He swung them quicker than Larry could follow so that both barrels were aiming back at him. Hunter sat up.

‘You put down your weapon,’ Hunter said.

Larry’s smile was slow to form.

‘This isn’t the way I want things,’ Larry said.

‘Pity,’ Hunter said. ‘It’s the way it is.’

‘So what do we do now? Shoot each other?’

‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’

‘Sure does.’

But neither of them fired.

Larry didn’t waver from his target.

‘You killed my brother.’

‘I did,’ Hunter agreed. ‘He was trying to kill me. So were you, Larry.’

Larry nodded very slightly. No getting away from it. The thing was, on those occasions he was being paid to kill Hunter. This time it was personal. He edged an inch closer to the prone man.

‘I could shoot you now,’ Larry said.

‘Not without me shooting you.’

‘Is that how you want things to turn out?’

‘Personally, I’d rather kill you and get out of this alive, but,’ Hunter smiled thinly, ‘if there’s nothing for it… so be it.’

‘A fatalist, huh?’

‘Realist.’

‘So what do we do about it?’

‘Start shooting or walk away, Larry.’ Hunter wormed a leg beneath himself. ‘Walk away and we’ll do this another time.’

‘You think I’m going to do that? So you can shoot me in the back?’

‘That’d be the coward’s way. I’m no coward. Anyway, I owe you, Larry. You just saved my life.’

‘I saved you so I could rip you apart at my leisure.’

‘I know that. But you aren’t going to get any satisfaction if I put a slug in your head first.’

Larry considered that. Hunter was right. What if he fired and Hunter got him first? Maybe his goddamn gun would jam. What kind of half-assed revenge would that be? Personally, he didn’t care if he died as long as Hunter died too, but how would he know for sure?

He squinted along the road at a low dark shape headed their way.

‘Another time, then?’

‘Another time.’

Larry stepped back, watching as Hunter came to his feet. He kept his gun trained on Hunter, as Hunter kept both his guns aimed at him. He locked stares with the man. Larry heard the roar of the approaching vehicle. He didn’t look away, but he continued to walk steadily backwards.

‘Huffman’s men are coming,’ Larry said. ‘Don’t go getting yourself killed after all this. You’re mine, Hunter.’

‘You’ve got a date, Larry.’

Back at the car wreck, Larry finally turned and jogged towards his Cadillac further along the road. Part of him expected a bullet in the spine, but a more resolute portion of his brain told him that Joe Hunter wasn’t going to shoot him like a dog. There was more to Hunter than that: it was like he said, he wasn’t a coward. Unlike punks like Tito back at the roadhouse, he wasn’t about to try to take Larry from behind. If he’d been that kind of man, he’d have killed him that first time they met in the forest.

Larry eased into the Cadillac, twisted the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and Larry spun the car in the road. He looked back and could see a vehicle coming, sending up a cloud of dust in its haste.

‘Don’t get yourself killed, Hunter,’ he said one last time.

Then he drove away.

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