28

The cab bounced slowly along the old mining road, lights off, Cocoa mumbling curses as he strained to miss the biggest potholes. A man stepped out of the brush and held up his hand.

“That’s Cecil,” Cocoa said as he brought the cab to a halt. The three men got out and Cocoa nodded to his cousin.

“‘Sup,” he said.

“Your big white guy is down at the mine,” Cecil said. “Couple other white guys joined him a little while ago. Ralph’s watching ’em.”

“They know you’re here?” Kane asked.

Cecil looked at him and shook his head.

“We’re Indians,” he said.

Kane nodded.

“Oh, yeah, right, I forgot,” he said, “that makes you invisible.”

Cecil and Cocoa exchanged a look.

“Not your typical gussik, is he?” Cecil said.

“Nope,” Cocoa said. He walked to the back of the cab, opened the hatch, removed something wrapped in a blanket, and said, “Why don’t you show us the way, Cecil?”

The four men walked down the side of the road with Cecil in the lead. Without talking about it, they let space open up among them like they were patrolling in hostile territory. Kane looked for clues that he’d been down this road before, but recognized nothing.

I must have been really drugged up, he thought.

Kane wasn’t sure how far they’d walked when Cecil led them into the woods. They moved quietly through the darkness until Cecil held up a fist and motioned them to the ground. They followed him as he began crawling. Kane could see the soles of somebody’s sneakers when Cecil signaled them to crawl into a line abreast.

They were at the edge of a big clearing. On the opposite side of the clearing was a rock face with a door in it. Kane wouldn’t have been able to see the door if it hadn’t been hanging slightly open, spilling light into the evening’s semidarkness. The light shone on two cars that were parked nearby.

Guess nobody’s had a chance to fix the door, Kane thought.

Cocoa and Ralph squirmed around until their heads were near Kane’s.

“Three of ’em,” Ralph whispered. “Heard some shouting, but nothing else.”

Kane nodded.

“I guess somebody’s going to have to go in there,” he said.

He could see in the men’s eyes that they didn’t like the idea. He didn’t either. Crossing open ground in the presence of the enemy was no way to stay healthy. But if they waited until the men came out, they could have a running gunfight on their hands and who knew what would happen. He wanted Bezhdetny alive. Better to get them when they were all in one place.

“If there’s going to be trouble,” Ralph said, “me and Cecil have got to go. Cocoa’s our cousin, but if we take another charge we’ll never see the outside again. Besides, we got no guns. Felons and firearms, you know.”

Kane didn’t like that, but he understood it. Nobody who’d been inside wanted to go back. Nobody sane, that is.

“You’d better go, then,” Kane said. He looked at Cocoa. “You, too?”

Cocoa shook his head.

“I’m good here,” he said.

Ralph crawled over and touched Cecil on the shoulder. The two men crawled off.

“What’s in the blanket?” Kane asked.

Cocoa unwrapped the blanket to reveal an old, well-kept AK-47. The barrel seemed longer than Kane remembered. Cocoa unfolded a pair of legs from the barrel and set their ends on the ground.

“My dad’s,” Cocoa said. “Him and my uncles brought it back in pieces from that old war.”

“Okay,” Kane said. “That means you stay here to provide cover. If that door opens while Winthrop and I are crossing the clearing, we’ll be sitting ducks. So I want you to put fire on it. But aim high. I don’t want to be picking pieces of your lead out of my hide, or to get all three of those guys shot to pieces before I can talk to them.”

“Yes, sir, sir,” Cocoa said, giving Kane a mock salute.

Kane crawled over to Winthrop to tell him the plan. When Cocoa had his weapon set up and loaded, the other two men got to their feet and began moving across the clearing. Kane had the automatic out and hanging at his side. Winthrop was carrying what looked like a .44 Magnum.

Well, he’s big enough to shoot it, Kane thought.

He and Winthrop moved in a curve, trying not to get between Cocoa and the door, which would be a very unhealthy place to be indeed if anything happened. Although, Kane thought, with all this rock around, a ricochet could get you from anywhere.

Days passed as they moved across the clearing, or so it seemed to Kane. He was sweating and he had that peculiar itch between his shoulders that he’d always gotten on patrol.

How do I get myself into these situations? he thought. I’m too old for this shit.

They reached the door without incident. They could hear voices. Kane put his lips next to Winthrop’s ear.

“I want you to pull the door open,” he said. “Try not to make much noise.”

Winthrop gave him a disgusted look, ghosted across to the other side of the door, nodded at Kane, wrapped a hand around the edge of the door, and pulled it open. The door creaked loudly.

Kane looked around the edge of the doorway. All three men were standing, looking at the doorway. The blond one brought a pistol out from under his coat and fired. A bullet made a familiar stuttering noise as it cut the air next to Kane’s ear. Kane had his automatic up. He leaned into the opening and aimed along the barrel, feeling loose and confident. He pulled the trigger three times, then rushed through the doorway, staying low. The blond one began to fall. On his way down, he pulled the trigger again. Kane heard the bullet crack into the rock floor and something struck his leg, knocking it from under him. He hit the floor and rolled, bringing his automatic up to cover the dark-haired one, who was struggling to get something out of his pocket. He really should have bought a holster, Kane thought, but some people never learn. He put a bullet into the wooden storage locker next to the dark-haired one’s ear.

“Freeze,” he shouted, “or the next one blows your brains out.”

The noise from the gunshot had deafened him to the point that he could barely hear his own shouts. He hoped the other man could hear better.

The dark-haired one stopped moving.

“Hands where I can see them,” Kane shouted. “Now.”

The dark-haired one lifted his hands to show they were empty, then raised them above his head. Kane rolled himself into a sitting position and looked for Winthrop.

The big Native was half standing, half crouching. His left hand was wrapped around Bezhdetny’s right wrist. His right hand rested on the big Ukrainian’s shoulder. Bezhdetny’s left hand grasped Winthrop under the arm. Both men were straining, their lips peeled back to show their teeth. As he watched, a pistol dropped from Bezhdetny’s right hand. Both men ignored it. Kane was certain that if he could hear, all he would hear is the two men’s breathing.

He thought about shooting Bezhdetny somewhere nonfatal, but didn’t think Winthrop would appreciate the help. Besides, he didn’t like the idea of more metal flying around. His own leg was starting to hurt, and he snuck a peek at it. Blood was seeping from his thigh. When he looked back, the dark-haired man had his hands at waist level. Kane gestured with the automatic and he raised them again.

Kane had no idea how long the two men grappled. At some point, Cocoa came through the door, gun barrel first. He surveyed the situation, looked at Kane, and jerked his head toward the wrestlers. Kane shook his head, then nodded toward the body on the floor. Cocoa walked around Winthrop and Bezhdetny, knelt, and put his fingers on the blond man’s neck. He looked at Kane and shook his head.

The two men were still locked in their private struggle. It’s like watching an epic battle, Kane thought. Hercules contending with Apollo. Or maybe good versus evil, but with the conventional colors reversed. But we can’t watch this all night.

Kane was about to tell Cocoa to hit the Ukrainian with his rifle butt when Bezhdetny’s left leg buckled and he let loose a scream Kane had no trouble hearing. Winthrop let go of him and the big, white man fell to the floor, where he rolled around clutching his left knee. Winthrop shook his head like a man coming out of a fog, looked around, walked over to the dark-haired man, and pulled his hands behind his back.

“Pick up the weapons, Cocoa,” Kane called. “Get the one in that one’s pocket as well. And the last time I looked, they both had ankle holsters.”

When Cocoa was finished, he had an armload of handguns.

“Dump them outside,” Kane said.

When the other men’s weapons were all outside the rock room, Kane limped to the door, took out his cell phone, dialed 911, and told the dispatcher what he needed. He used Tank Crawford’s name liberally. When he finished, he limped back to a chair and sat. Cocoa took out a Buck knife, knelt next to him, and cut open his pant leg, revealing a jagged hole surrounded by black-and-blue tissue that leaked blood. He took a not-too-clean-looking handkerchief out of his pocket, folded it, and laid it on the wound. Kane put his hand on the handkerchief and pushed. A bolt of pain shot through his thigh, but he kept the pressure on.

“Good thing you called for an ambulance,” Cocoa said. “That’s going to need looking at.”

Kane nodded.

“I don’t know how long it will take for the cops to get here,” he said, “but if you want to hold on to your toy, you’d better stash it somewhere.”

Cocoa smiled and left the room.

Winthrop had finished tying up the dark-haired man. The big Ukrainian lay as he had, his hand wrapped around his knee. He was no longer howling, but had his teeth set in a way that said he was in real pain.

“We should talk before the cops get here, George,” Kane said. “It would be in your best interest.”

Bezhdetny shot him a hard look.

“Fuck your mother,” he grated.

“That’s no way to talk, George,” Kane said. “You should know that I’ve got written evidence that you were involved in blackmail and kidnapping, and I’m sure that your pal here”—he nodded toward the dark-haired man—“will be only too happy to talk as well. So maybe you should tell me why you murdered Melinda Foxx. You know, sort of practice your story before the authorities arrive.”

Bezhdetny’s expression seemed to contain real surprise.

“Murder?” he said. “I murdered no one. I didn’t even know this Melinda Foxx. And I know nothing of blackmail or kidnapping.”

Then he closed his mouth and didn’t utter a sound until what seemed like the entire Juneau police force arrived, guns drawn.