Matt Hilton - Dead Men's Harvest

As I came to my feet, there was movement behind me. Hartlaub had finally caught up. ‘Here. Let me.’

Before I could do or say anything to stop him, Hartlaub fired a single shot into back of the man’s skull. Life went out of the Russian like a doused candle.

‘Looks like saving your ass is becoming a habit.’

Heaving air into my constricted lungs, I said, ‘I had him.’

‘Sure you did.’

Pushing past him, I rushed out of the room. ‘Stay close, Hartlaub. I might need you again before I’m finished.’

Back in the corridor I headed for the door where I’d seen the face. There was a rumble of movement from behind and I spun to see Hartlaub dropping to one knee and aiming his gun back the way we’d come. He fired twice, but there was a corresponding volley of bullets from the far end. Hartlaub swore, went over on his side. He was still shooting, and now I could see another man running at us. He was a scrawny little thing, but the gun made him dangerous. He fired as he came and that was a mistake. If he’d held his position, aimed and fired we’d probably both be dead, but his running steps only caused his bullets to hit the walls and ceiling. I drew a bead on him, squeezed the trigger and my SIG barked. The man went down.

Taking a quick glance over my shoulder I checked for movement beyond the circular window. Couldn’t detect any, so I ran back to Hartlaub and hauled him over.

‘Goddamn it! I’ve been hit!’

Hartlaub had one hand slapped over his left hip. Blood was leaking from under his fingers. There was no sign of an exit wound, which was a very bad sign. It looked like the shooter had been using soft-nosed slugs. The bullet would have flattened on impact, split into shards and then ricocheted round inside his pelvic girdle. There would be untold damage to his internal organs.

Cursing under my breath, I pulled his hand from the wound for a better look, but without ripping off his jumpsuit I couldn’t make a decent inspection. I grabbed his hand, pushed it hard on the hole. ‘Keep pressure on it or you’ll bleed to death.’

Hartlaub went through another round of curses, but he could be forgiven the bad language. ‘Shit. I’m not going to die, Hunter.’

‘We need to get you help.’

‘No. I’m not going to fucking die.’

‘No,’ I lied. ‘No, you still have a chance. C’mon.’

I helped him to stand, which wasn’t the best idea because it would only help him bleed out all the sooner. But I couldn’t leave him there in the corridor like that. Not when other crew might come across him at any second. Injured, he’d no way to defend himself. Propping his arm around my shoulders, I supported him to the door and he grunted with every step. Taking a quick glance through the window, I saw only an empty hall. I shoved through the door, searching for targets with my gun, but luckily no one was in sight. The hall here was very similar to the one we’d just come from, only the doors were heavy metal things with letterbox-sized slots, like you see in some old jails. This must be where the women were confined when the boat was at sea. There were at least half a dozen holding rooms, but the doors were open and none contained any occupants. I wondered if Jenny had been held here, and didn’t like what I saw: a chair from which hung leather straps.

I was concerned about Hartlaub, but my focus shifted back to Jenny. When he’d come along on this mission Hartlaub knew that injury or death had been a probability, whereas my sister-in-law had been an unwilling participant from the word go. There was a tenet of the armed forces that I’d been raised upon, though: you don’t leave a colleague behind. That made things very difficult for me.

Hartlaub must have guessed what I was thinking. ‘I’m only gonna slow you down, Hunter. Go on. Forget about me. I can look after myself.’

‘Thanks, Hartlaub,’ I said. ‘But no can do. I’m getting you somewhere safe first.’

‘Joe,’ he said, the first time he’d used my given name, ‘you were right. Saving your sister-in-law is more important than killing Cain.. or saving my ass. Go save hers. I’ll manage to make my way back up on deck and cover for you from up there. I’ve still got one good leg, two good hands and a head for thinking. I’ll be OK.’

I was torn, but he was right. Dragging him around the ship would get us both killed. At least if we split up there was a chance I could save Jenny. I had to leave him to his fate. ‘At least let me take you to a staircase so you can get out,’ I said.

Hartlaub nodded, and even that action was enough to make him almost pass out. He was leaking more blood than he had the capacity to hold in, leaving a wide smear of it behind as we hobbled along the corridor.

There was another door at the end, and I propped Hartlaub against a wall while I checked that all was clear. There was a stairwell like the one we’d fought the crewmen on, but this one was empty. I helped Hartlaub up the first flight. He’d only another set of stairs to manage by himself and he’d be back on the main deck.

‘You sure you can make it from here?’

He grimaced and waved me back down the stairs. ‘Don’t worry about me, for Christ’s sake! Go get Jenny out of there.’

I placed a hand on his shoulder. Looked him steadily in the eye. ‘Hartlaub. Despite the real reason Walter sent you, you’re a good man.’

‘Yeah, but you’re still an ungrateful bastard.’ He grunted out a laugh. ‘Listen, to me. There is no hidden agenda. I’m here to cover your ass, and I’ll continue to do that. I don’t intend dying in this crap hole. But if I do, I’ll make sure I take some of these bastards with me.’

‘You’re not going to die under my watch.’

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I’ll be out here waiting for the two of you.’

‘Thanks, Hartlaub.’ I doubted I’d see him alive again. I turned away before he could see the shame burning in my cheeks.

Cain was assailed by mixed feelings.

He was happy that Joe Hunter had arrived: he could repay the bastard for everything he’d suffered at Jubal’s Hollow, and for the many months he’d spent cooped up in a cell at Fort Conchar. In fact, he was ecstatic to find the Englishman was as remorseless as he’d warned Baron, because it meant all his preparations had been worth the time and effort. An eye for an eye, a frickin’ throat for a throat.

On the other hand, he was angered that Hunter’s younger brother was a no show. All of his plotting, his escape from prison, his wild goose chase to Montana, the trip he’d taken to the UK and then on this ship had all been to find and finish things with John Telfer. Now it looked like the search wasn’t over.

First things first, though. He’d warned Walter Hayes Conrad what would happen if anyone tried anything stupid. Well, Hunter and his mysterious friend coming aboard the Queen Sofia could be classified as such.

On hearing the brief gun battle, he’d left his hostage in the capable hands of Baron, made his way along the hall past the cells and peered through the porthole in the adjoining bulkhead door. Hunter, he was certain, had seen him before he ducked back into the shadows, but then one of Grodek’s crew had attacked Hunter. Cain had recognised the burly man, a Siberian who’d greeted the death of his captain with a shrug. It seemed he didn’t care who his commanding officer was, so long as he was rewarded handsomely for his service. Cain approved of the Siberian’s weapon of choice — the meat cleaver. They were both men of the blade. He didn’t think it would avail him against Joe Hunter, though, and wasn’t surprised to hear another short gun battle a while later. By then, Cain was already on his way back to slaughter Jennifer Telfer.