Matt Hilton - Slash and burn

'Wicker, I've a job for you,' Huffman said.

The woman had been sipping green tea from a china cup in his kitchen. Her cell phone was lying on the table as though she'd just put it down and Huffman guessed that she'd been reporting back to her employers. She looked at him quizzically. This close, Huffman noticed how dark her eyes were, as though all light had been taken from them, and her pupils had dilated to the maximum. They looked solid black. He wondered if there was something other she'd taken from her DEA days than her skills: she looked high. But then she blinked and the illusion passed.

'I've already got a job, boss. I'm going to kill Joe Hunter for you.'

'There's something else I want from you first.'

Wicker sat back in her chair, splaying her legs in a fashion that wasn't very feminine. She dug her thumbs into her pants pockets and sat looking up at Huffman. 'What could be more important than that?'

'I want Imogen Ballard dead. She could still be a threat to me if she's alive.'

'She's with Hunter. I'll kill her when I get him.'

'I don't think that's the case,' Huffman said. 'In fact, I know it's not.'

Wicker slowly picked up her cell phone and placed it in her breast pocket. Her other tools were either on her person or in the small bag she'd brought with her. She could be on her way with only a moment's notice. 'Tell me what you do know.'

There was much more than he'd relate to her right now. He'd been busy since his conversation with Larry Bolan, thinking it prudent to learn as much about Joe Hunter as he could. He recalled that Kate Piers had arrived in Little Fork by way of a trip to Tampa, Florida. A couple of contacts he had down there had asked around and told him about an Englishman who'd been making waves, and plenty of enemies, in the criminal underworld. It seemed that this man – a cipher by all accounts – was getting quite a reputation as a vigilante. Some people whispered that he was ex-Special Forces. They also said that he moonlighted for a private investigations business run by an ex-soldier named Jared Rington. Jared Rington was out of town, and it didn't take too much imagination to conclude that Rington was one of the snipers who'd helped Hunter earlier. Huffman was of the opinion that neither of the men would be leaving Texas any time soon.

The women were another matter. Hunter would want them out of the way. He was coming back for a showdown, no doubt about it. It was the only route left open to him. The women, Huffman concluded, would be sent back to Tampa where they'd be safe.

'The women boarded a plane out of DFW a couple of hours ago. They used false names, but I don't doubt that it was them. Two men are travelling with them.'

'But not Hunter and his mysterious friend,' Wicker said. 'Someone else is helping them?'

'We were able to check the passenger manifest. Two men arrived on one flight from Tampa, Florida, and then boarded the next flight out. Their names have been put through the IRS database and they came back as being residents of Tampa. Both men are employed as private security consultants. They occasionally subcontract to a company called Rington Investigations.' Huffman placed a slip of paper on the table and Wicker drew it towards her. 'That's their names and the location of their office. Think you can handle this, Wicker?'

'Two rent-a-cops and a couple of women? I'm sure I'm up to the task.' Wicker placed the note alongside her phone in her pocket. 'But why me, boss? Why aren't you sending Grade or that hulking idiot, Bolan?'

'Because I think that you're the best person for the job.'

She smiled. 'For a second there I thought you wanted to protect me from the big bad men that you're going to fight.'

'There is that,' Huffman said. Then he grunted. 'You're as tough as any of the others, Wicker. This isn't a sexist thing: I just thought you'd appreciate another chance at Kate Piers. I stopped you killing her the last time you met.'

'Yeah, you did, boss. And that bitch tried to shoot me, too.'

'So are you up for it?'

She stood up, rocking on her heels and knuckling the small of her back. 'Both sisters, right?'

'Kill Imogen and Kate and I'll pay you a bonus,' Huffman promised. He handed her a second slip of paper. 'That's your flight reservation number. Pick your tickets up at the desk I've written on there.'

'How do I get to the airport?'

'Take my car.' He tossed her his keys. 'I'll have it picked up after I'm finished here.'

'I might be back before then,' Wicker said. 'I'll bring it myself.'

Huffman shrugged. He didn't believe that she would be back in time. Hunter would be coming in the next few hours.

The biorhythms of the human body and mind are at their lowest ebb between the hours of three and four in the morning, and it's said that more people die during those hours than at any other time of the day. It's certainly true that most people are sound asleep then, a solid reason why police launch early-morning raids on criminals in an attempt to unsettle them and catch them unprepared. When I was actively involved in seek-destroy missions on terrorists, most of my work was done during this dead time.

It would make sense to launch our assault on Huffman but for one fact: Huffman would know that this was when I'd likely be coming for him. He still had some of his killers with him – not to mention Larry Bolan – and he would make sure that they were all alert and ready for the attack. So, I decided to let the bastard sweat, but not for too long.

I couldn't get my head round what Huffman was really all about. This had started with him protecting his investment in an up-and-coming town in Kentucky but now things had changed. It was almost as if the man had taken me on as some form of personal challenge.

I've fought some crazy and dangerous killers in my time. Even after retiring from the unit I have made war against Tubal Cain, a man responsible for taking the bones from dozens of his victims, and also against a contract killer who fancied himself as the fallen angel Dantalion. Both Cain and Dantalion were supremely insane, but to some extent at least I could understand what motivated them. Huffman remained a mystery that I couldn't work out.

It wasn't that he was afraid of me. In fact, judging by the times we'd talked on the phone, he sounded like he was relishing making my acquaintance.

In his own inimitable style, Rink weighed him up better than I did. 'Don't you get it, buddy?' he said in his languid drawl. 'The asshole's playing games. He thinks he's at the centre of some shoot-'em-up video game and he loves every goddamn second of it.'

'You think so?'

We were back at the cabin, sitting out by the fire that Rink had rebuilt, waiting for the sun to cast a finger of light over the lake. The burgers I'd baulked at earlier were now something I looked forward to. Harvey was playing chef. He pointed the tongs he was using to turn the burgers at me. 'Either that or he wants to prove something.'

'Like Cain,' Rink added. 'He wanted you on his list of victims because he thought it'd make him into some sort of big guy.'

'It's different with Huffman, though. He doesn't know who I am. He has my name but nothing about my background.'

'That was before,' Rink pointed out. 'You can bet your sweet cheeks he's been diggin' around and knows exactly who you are now.'

'Wouldn't be surprised if he knows who we all are,' Harvey said, loading a burger into a bun and passing it my way.

I shrugged my shoulders, and remembered that was a bad idea when my wound shrieked in protest. Gritting my teeth, I inspected my late supper, or early breakfast, or whatever. It looked all right. I took a bite and chewed perfunctorily. It tasted better than it looked.

'I don't think he has those kinds of resources,' I said. 'I had Kate's phone with me for a day and a half. If he had connections he'd have been able to trace it. The same kinds of connections would've been able to dig up information on me. He hasn't acted on tracing the phone, and I don't think he's found anything out about me. Nothing about my past anyway.'