Matt Hilton - Dead Men's Harvest

My first sight of the cabin brought everything crashing down on me again. The last time I’d been here was to witness the deranged work of Tubal Cain. I didn’t want to be reminded of it, when in place of Bryce Lang and the bodyguards I superimposed the face of Jenny. It took me a few seconds to get a grip of myself, and yet when I did it was with a new resolve. The cabin horrified me, but I’d always been one for facing my fears. There’s an old adage I subscribe to: If you are afraid of what lies within the cave, walk in. No matter what kind of monster lurked in the darkness, running away didn’t diminish your fear of it. You have to face it and — if needs be — rip the fucker’s throat out with your teeth.

I hitched up my jeans as I stepped down from the chopper and led the way to Walter’s front door. Now that it appeared that Tubal Cain was out of the country and Hendrickson no longer a threat, Walter had chosen to return to his cabin. We found him in the living area, supervising a clean-up crew. The air was redolent with the sharp smell of disinfectant, but it couldn’t hide the sickly undertone of the depravity that had gone on here so recently. Walter was chewing on a fat cigar, but had not as yet lit it. He’d been trying to give up the vice of tobacco for years, and had only recently been able to ditch the panacea of the unlit stogie. Still, I couldn’t blame him for grasping at his old habit. He needed the comfort of it, I guessed. The truth be told, I could have smoked a cigarette myself.

Sometimes I forgot how old Walter was. He was now in his late sixties, but looking at his haunted features, I’d have put him at twenty years older again. His normally rotund body was deflated and his jowls, usually plump and full around the stub of cigar, looked like those of a bloodhound. The whites of his eyes were reddened with broken capillaries. His bald pate seemed to be expanding daily. He made me feel my own mortality like a leaden weight.

I touched the old man on the shoulder and watched as he hung his head. He’d lost a dear friend in Bryce Lang, and most likely in his regular bodyguards as well. I felt for him. But more than that, I felt for Jenny.

‘We need to end this fast.’

He nodded silently.

‘I’m a wanted man,’ I went on. ‘There’s no way that I can do things by the regular channels. Even with false documents, I can’t beat the security measures now that they’re watching for me.’

‘I’ll see to it that you’re given immunity,’ he said.

I’d been expecting him to deny me help this time. I was supposed to be on my own. He had to be kept out of the entire fuck-up. But he came across as being more intent on stopping the monster than concerned about protecting his own arse. Maybe he too was feeling his mortality.

‘You know why Cain has done this.’ I wasn’t referring to the splotches of gore the clean-up crew were tackling.

Walter chewed furiously at his stogie, but didn’t answer.

‘He intends using Jenny to bring John out of hiding. He has only one way of making his demands, and that’s through you, Walt. I want to be there, ready for the bastard when he makes the call.’

‘What if he has already killed her?’

‘I’ll make him pay.’ Never in my life had I made a more powerful resolution. ‘I don’t think he will, though. He’ll keep her alive as bait. I need you to play your part in this, Walt. I need you to have John ready to make the exchange. When that happens, I promise you, Cain won’t live a second longer.’

Walter stood there, wouldn’t even look at me. Finally he nodded and said, ‘Best prepare yourself then, son. I think he’ll make contact soon.’

I’d forgotten that Harvey was standing by my shoulder until he stirred uncomfortably. ‘What about me?’

Walter looked up at him like he was a stranger. I turned to Harvey and gave him his answer. ‘I’m doing this part on my own.’

‘Now hold on a minute!’

‘Look, Harvey,’ I said, ‘I’ve already dragged you and Rink through a huge pile of shit, but it ends here. You’re both great friends, and it has to stop. I’ve fucked your lives. It’s about time I let you get back to some sort of normality.’ Before he could argue, I turned to Walter again and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. ‘Harvey and Rink’s involvement has to be covered, Walter. I don’t care how you do it, how many strings you have to pull or how many favours you have to call in, they weren’t involved. Got it?’

‘I’ll do what I can.’

‘That’s not good enough. I want your word on it. Their inclusion is buried. Full stop.’

‘My power isn’t infinite, son.’

‘I know. Blame everything on me if you have to, but my friends are kept out of this.’

I grew aware of a hush in the room. The cleaning crew had all paused at our raised voices. I shot them each a dark look and they went back to what they were doing. Quieter, I said; ‘You owe them as much as I do, Walt. Make sure that they’re exonerated. And,’ I leaned in close to his ear, ‘make sure that John is ready for when he’s needed.’

‘OK.’ Walter walked away without further comment. He went through to the back rooms where I’d entered when Hartlaub and Brigham first brought me here. I trusted that he was already on to it. Harvey clutched my shoulder. ‘Let’s go outside, Hunter. We need to speak.’

I followed him outside and I could tell from the way his shoulders had bunched tight that I was in for more raised voices. Yet he surprised me. ‘Thanks for what you just did for me and Rink, Joe.’

‘It’s not right that either of you should suffer for my mess.’

‘It’s not your mess. You didn’t start this.’

‘Maybe I did, Harve. Maybe I did.’

I’d turned my back on my brother when he was at his lowest. Christ, I’d been close to punching his lights out, but had walked away instead. I’ve often asked myself whether, if I’d just handed over the money he needed then, everything would have been different. Because I hadn’t helped him, John had sought to solve his problems by running away. That had led him to cross paths with Petoskey and then Hendrickson. In turn, that had brought him into the crosshairs of Tubal Cain. It was the butterfly effect, my inaction reverberating down through the years to this point where all those I held dear were in more danger than ever. Shit, it had even made me the man I’d become. Some legend: a fucking vigilante guilty of murder. Well, enough was enough. It was time to send the bad karma back at the person who truly deserved it.

‘Do something for me, will you?’

‘Anything,’ Harvey said.

‘Go back and check on Rink. Tell him I’m sorry for taking off without saying goodbye.’

‘Tell him yourself when you get back.’

‘ If I come back,’ I corrected.

I wasn’t talking about running away from the law; I seriously doubted that I’d return in one piece. If it meant the difference between John and Jenny’s safety, and me dying under Tubal Cain’s blade, then I chose the blade. No question.

Getting into the UK had been relatively simple for Cain; not so getting out again with a hostage added to the equation.

Nevertheless he was resourceful, and using Hendrickson’s contacts he arranged flights for himself and Jennifer Telfer on a private jet employed to shuttle a TV mogul back and forth across the Atlantic. Said mogul was known to travel with a contingent of staff and ‘guests’, some of the latter often a little the worse for wear when arriving at their destination, so Jennifer blended in nicely.

Cain found the flight interminable. Not because he was surrounded by starlets stoned out of their heads, but because he had no way of satisfying his urge to take a memento or three from their skinny bodies. The TV guy was an insufferable ass, someone whose ego was larger than his fat head, and was sarcastic without wit. He sat in his plush leather seat, liquor flowing freely, and a couple lines of white powder offered to him on a tray. He used a glass tube to snort the cocaine, and Cain considered going and giving him a pat on the head for all he was doing for the TV ratings. He wondered if one pat would be enough to ram the glass tube all the way into the unctuous bastard’s brain. The two minders wouldn’t be able to stop him; in fact, they were an embarrassment, engaging in the party the way they did. Cain had once worked as a bodyguard to US dignitaries, and these scumbags brought shame to his trade. The only thing that stopped him from slaughtering them was that he’d have to go through the entire retinue, and the cabin crew, and Cain did not have the ability to safely land the plane.