Fifth Victim

‘You’ve room to talk.’

‘Yes, I suppose I have. Is this the point where I’m supposed to ask how you found me?’

‘Ross,’ I said. ‘If you’re going to shoot someone, you really should learn how to make it count.’

He pulled a wry face and gestured towards the body half-covered in earth below him. ‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘I’ve been practising.’

‘Lennon, I assume. Not very loyal to your associates, are you …?’ I paused. ‘What do I call you, anyway? I assume the name Hunter Trevanion is as fake as everything else about you?’

‘It was OK for a while,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve already got something better lined up to step into. A whole new life. Not quite as comfortable as it should have been, but hey …’ he shrugged, ‘… you win some, you lose some.’

‘Why cut and run so early?’ I said. ‘What about the ten million you asked for Dina?’

‘The ten million you told me Caroline Willner hadn’t a hope in hell of raising, you mean?’ he queried, derisive. ‘The secret of gambling is knowing when to fold a losing hand, Charlie, and although I say so myself, I’m a very good gambler.’

‘In that case, you should have held your nerve a little longer before you chucked in your cards, Hunt,’ I said, adding a scornful edge. ‘Mrs Willner might not have the cash, but you told her to tap up Brandon Eisenberg and she did just that. There we were at four o’clock, with the money sitting waiting for you, and you never bothered to call.’

Emotions whipped across his handsome features, from disbelief through rage to a sudden twisted amusement. ‘No shit?’ he murmured. He eyed me cynically. ‘So, are you telling me you still want to make a deal?’

‘No,’ Parker’s voice said from the exit rail of the fence, popping up out of nowhere at the far reaches of Hunt’s peripheral vision. ‘I rather think the time for bargaining is over, don’t you?’

Hunt’s head snapped round, took in the shooter’s stance, the cool gaze, and knew Parker for the professional he was. Then he smiled again, almost to himself. ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s the case at all,’ he said lazily. ‘After all, I still have what you want, and I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that you don’t have much time.’

‘We’ve caught you standing over a half-filled grave, you little bastard,’ I said. ‘Do you honestly expect us to believe she isn’t in there?’

She’s alive. She has to be alive …

Hunt merely smiled at the betraying desperation in my voice. He was still pointing the Colt at me, but when he spoke, it was to Parker.

‘I think I’d put the gun down if I were you, old cock, because not only can you not take the risk that Dina might be buried somewhere else, but you know I’ll shoot the lady first.’

‘So?’ I challenged, trying to keep his attention on me, to give Parker his chance. What the hell are you waiting for, Parker? Can’t you tell all that shit about Dina is a bluff – where the hell else would she be?

Hunt laughed again, eyes still on me. ‘She doesn’t see it, does she?’ he asked. ‘It was pretty bloody obvious to everyone at the country club do who watched you two dance together that you’re desperate to get into her knickers, but she’s still pining for her vegetable lover and—’

The shot took Hunt in the side, just above his left hip, spun him round and knocked him back onto the pile of earth still in the back of the pickup. The gun went clattering from his fingers and clanged loudly against the metal side of the bed. A scatter of birds took to the air from the trees around us, shrieking their outrage.

We ran forwards. I ducked to retrieve the Colt while Parker kept his Glock firmly trained on Hunt. He had started to moan, hands clutching at the greasy wound.

‘You took your bloody time about that one,’ I said sharply, clicking the safety on the Colt and shoving it into my pocket. Boss or no boss, the adrenaline was surging. ‘Where else would Dina be, for fuck’s sake?’

Hunt, despite the pain, managed a gasping laugh. ‘What did I tell you? Still she doesn’t see it. Tell her, Parker. Tell her that’s not why you hesitated—’

‘Shut up,’ Parker said through his teeth, ‘or I’ll shoot you again.’

I could have told them both that I knew exactly why Parker had hesitated, but I wouldn’t give Hunt the satisfaction of being right. That Parker had been afraid of him getting off a shot at me if he did.

I put the SIG away, jumped up into the back of the pickup, and dragged Hunt closer to the edge of the tailgate. I half expected Parker to lift him down from there, but he just grabbed hold of the injured man’s ankle and yanked.

It was almost a metre to the ground, and Hunt landed with a solid, satisfying thump, but he refused to cry out.

Parker reached into his jacket and brought out a giant plastic tie-wrap. ‘They were in the truck we borrowed,’ he said when he saw my raised eyebrow. ‘I think they use them to hold the fences together. It should do the job.’

He looped the substitute PlastiCuffs round Hunt’s wrists and zipped them up tight, forcing his arms back behind him. The wound, I noticed, continued to bleed steadily, but I didn’t really care much about that. Parker flicked Hunt’s discarded jacket off the corner of the tailgate and packed that roughly under his belt to act as a dressing. An unnecessary kindness, in my view.

I picked up the discarded shovel and jumped down, reaching the half-filled ditch in a couple of strides. When I scraped the earth away from the body I’d seen, a young man was revealed, eyes still open and an expression of hurt surprise on his face. There was a small black hole just under his right eye, slightly deforming his features.

I didn’t recognise him, but I realised I’d never seen Lennon unmasked. When I checked his right arm, I found it had been bandaged, somewhat amateurishly, and had no doubt I’d find a gunshot injury lurking beneath.

When I reached down to drag him clear, he was still warm to the touch.

Parker jumped into the ditch alongside me and helped. With the body shifted, there was only a shallow covering of earth on top of another rough wooden box.

‘Dina!’ I yelled, but there was no reply. I shot Hunt a poisonous glare, but he had drooped over onto his side and his eyes were closed.

Between the two of us, Parker and I scraped the lid clear enough to get to the fastenings. I glanced at him, suddenly fearful, with a bleak rising memory of having been here before, standing over Torquil’s body that day on the beach.

‘Oh my God, have you found her? Is it Dina?’

We straightened sharply to see Caroline Willner approaching at a run across the sodden grass, Gleason and Brandon Eisenberg not far behind her. The noise of Parker’s gunshot, it seemed, had done a similar job of deadening our hearing.

Caroline Willner slithered to a stop at the top of the slope and gripped the rail as she stared down at us. There were splatters of mud on her skirt, and her shoes were ruined. Her face was death-mask white.

Eisenberg arrived, panting, while Gleason barely seemed out of breath. She took one look at the situation, and drew her own weapon to stand guard over Hunt. Maybe Parker would offer her a job, after all.

‘Are there any tools in the truck?’ I demanded. ‘We need a tyre iron or a crowbar – right now.’

It was Eisenberg who obeyed without questions, skirting carefully round Hunt’s body to open the cab door of the pickup. He pulled out a scuffed toolbox and yanked the handles apart. Inside, he quickly found a hammer, long flat-bladed screwdriver and a pry bar and jumped down into the trenches without a thought to his own thousand- dollar shoes.

The three of us attacked the lid of the coffin with a vengeance. It seemed to take for ever before the last of the screws tore loose, and we could finally rip the lid loose.

I took a deep shaky breath, and looked inside.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Dina lay slightly on her side, her knees wedged hard against one side of the box, her back against the other. She was groggy, filthy, bleeding, in shock.

But alive.

Most definitely alive.