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.’