The Forgotten Holocaust

Chapter Fifty-Five

Finn McCrory was alone at home, gnawing on a cold meat sandwich at the bar in the kitchen and still avoiding the office, even avoiding his campaign manager Theo Walsh, when he got the call that spoiled his lunch.

‘I told you how it’d go down,’ Ritter said. ‘Hate to say it, but you shoulda listened to me.’

‘You told me what?’

‘You’d best sit, boss.’

‘I am sitting. Spill it, goddamnit.’

‘It’s not good news, boss. I just got a call from Meagher up at Big Bear. Or what’s left of it. Ain’t much.’

Oh no. It couldn’t be true. Finn plunged his head into his hand. His guts began to churn.

‘Hope?’ he said in a small voice.

‘Who else? You got me and Moon sitting on our asses in fucking Crosbie Heights while he’s doing exactly what I warned you he’d do.’

‘Oh, Lord. When did this happen?’

‘Just now. Minutes ago.’

‘How bad is it?’ First the cabin, now this. If Hope was involved, the answer was predictable enough.

‘Couldn’t be much worse. The trucks are blown to shit, along with everything in them and the entire stock. They’re still draggin’ bodies out of the wreckage. Twelve confirmed dead, three missing. It’s only Meagher, Lukas and Strickman left, and Strickman’s lost an ear.’

Strickman’s missing ear was of small concern to Finn. His heart was rattling along like a train. ‘Jesus Christ, how’d he get into the place? Who was on the gate?’

‘Gulick had the watch. Looks like he never saw it coming. Hope slit’m from ear to ear. Took his wallet and his phone. Used his rifle to kill Hannigan and Stearns.’

A plug of hot bile rose up in Finn’s throat, though not out of sympathy for Gulick or the others. He managed to swallow it back down again, only just.

‘When you say there’s nothing left—’

Any tiny glimmer of hopefulness was swiftly dashed by Ritter’s reply. ‘Sounds like what it is, boss. Meagher said the place looks like fuckin’ Hiroshima.’

‘Oh, Lord,’ Finn repeated. His stomach didn’t feel good at all. ‘Where are you?’

‘Still here clocking an empty house,’ Ritter said pointedly. ‘You want me and Moon to head down to Big Bear? Boss? Boss?’

Finn had hung up, in order to dash to the kitchen sink and let go of the rising tide that wouldn’t be kept down any longer. He was violently sick twice, then gulped down a glass of water and a fistful of antacids and collapsed in a wicker chair. A cold sweat rippled down his body like witches ‘fingers at the thought of his precious stock all gone, gone, blown to smithereens. But the cold sweat was nothing compared to the dread terror of what would happen when the Mexicans found out about this. Those guys were as paranoid as they were ruthless. They’d instantly suspect that the attack was the work of the DEA or the FBI — that a massive law enforcement operation was closing on a supplier it was now time to cut their ties with. Cutting ties meant visits in the night. It meant carjacking, kidnapping and heaven knew what else. It meant slitting throats. Colombian neckties. Slow dismemberment. Blood-spattered shower curtains. Screaming horror and death.

Finn rose from his chair and made it to the kitchen sink before throwing up a third time. He splashed water in his face, screwed up his eyes and let out a miserable groan.

That was when the phone rang again. He wiped his chin and stared at it, thinking it must be Ritter calling with even worse news. Like the Mexicans were on their way already, armed with chainsaws and blowtorches. ‘What the hell,’ he croaked wretchedly, and picked up.

‘Guess what I got for you,’ said the gravelly voice of Liam O’Rourke, sounding uncharacte‌ristically upbeat.

A small ray of sunshine beamed down over Finn McCrory as he listened to the news. O’Rourke’s version of events naturally gave him all the credit for tracking down the Hayes woman and bringing her into custody.

‘She’s under arrest?’

‘Sure, but I wouldn’t worry about that. Paperwork can disappear, just like people can. The officer who booked her, he’s my guy.’

Finn was beginning to smile as the black clouds overhead rapidly dissolved away to clear blue sky and he suddenly could see how he was going to get through this. It was a magnificent turnaround. The Hayes woman was no longer a threat, and soon neither would Ben Hope be. His secrets would be protected. He would survive. Even the Mexicans didn’t seem like such a big deal. In his elation he quite believed that things would be smoothed out just fine. It was just a glitch. He’d come out on top, like always. He was Finn McCrory.

‘What you want me to do with her?’ O’Rourke asked.

The chief of police, at his beck and call, awaiting orders. Finn’s smile widened. With the cabin and the farm gone, there was only one place he could keep his new hostage. Certainly not at the house, and the aircraft hangar was too public. Serendipity had provided a nice alternative.

‘Bring the bitch up to the ranch,’ he said.

O’Rourke hesitated. ‘Arrowhead? Big Joe’s place? Christ, Finn, you sure?’

Unbelievable. The old bastard managed to intimidate even Liam O’Rourke.

‘He’s out of the way for a couple days,’ Finn said. ‘Topeka. Seeing a man about a horse, I don’t know what. Point is, we have the place to ourselves.’

O’Rourke seemed relieved to hear that Big Joe was two hundred miles away in Kansas. ‘Okay. I’ll take care of it personally.’

‘Get rolling, chief. And bring as many of the boys as you can get hold of.’

‘We expecting trouble?’

‘Not that we can’t handle,’ McCrory said with a grin. ‘Not any more.’