Bleeding Hearts Part 47

But when I turned back to Provost, I saw that he'd taken a shot to the heart. The guard had been aiming at him, not me. Suicide orders from Kline, no doubt. I eased the body on to the ground. Bel barely glanced up from her work. She'd patched Spike up as best she could.

'He's still losing blood,' she said. After feeling for Provost's pulse and finding none, I walked over to her. Then I saw the car between the cabins. Its rear windscreen had been shattered, but when I went to look, it had its tyres intact. I felt in Kline's pockets and drew out the keys, then reversed the car into the clearing.

With Bel's help we got Spike into the back of the car. He groaned and winced a little, so I repeated my warning to him about gun heaven. Then we got in the car and drove off.

What are we going to do?' Bel asked.

'Get Spike to hospital.'

375.

'But after that? I heard what that man said back there. He was telling us we'd come all this way for nothing. He was saying all those people died ... and my father died ... for nothing.'

I looked at her. She was crying. 'Maybe he was lying!

Maybe ... I don't know.'

We pa.s.sed a car on the road, hurtling towards Crescent Lake. It was the lookout. They didn't even give us a second glance. I took a detour back to where we'd left the wardens.

They seemed terrified to see us. I pulled them out of the Chrysler and left them propped back to back on the ground.

'You take Spike to hospital,' I said.

'Where are you going?'

'Provost's house.'

She looked at me. 'Do you think you'll find what you'r looking for?'

T don't know what I'm looking for, Bel. Look after Spike, eh?' Then I kissed her and got into the Chrysler.

On the road back into Seattle, I managed to put America out of my mind. Instead, I thought back to London, right to the start of this whole thing and to Scotty Shattuck. Why hadn't I hung around until he'd turned up again? He was the key to the whole thing. My impatience had led me the wrong direction. I'd been going wrong ever since.

Maybe I was still going wrong, but I kept on driving.

376.

28.I was prepared to kick down Provost's door.

But it wasn't necessary. The door was unlocked. I eased the Smith & Wesson 559 out of my waistband and crept into the house. Someone had been there before me. The place had been turned over in what looked like robbery, except that nothing obvious was missing. The TV, video and hi-fi were still there, as was some women's jewellery scattered over the floor in the master bedroom. It had to be Alisha's jewellery. I didn't feel too guilty about killing her. She'd have killed me. But seeing the jewellery, plus her clothes, plus smelling her perfume ... I had to rest for a moment and control my breathing.

And that's when he found me.

I felt the cold muzzle of the gun against the back of my neck. It froze my whole body for a moment.

'Toss the gun over there.'

I did as I was told, and then was frisked from behind.

'Walk into the living room.'

I did so. I recognised the voice. I knew who was behind me.

'Now turn around.'

I turned around and was face to face with Leo Hoffer.

'Sit down,' he said. 'Take the weight off. You look like you've had a heavy night.'

It s been heavy.' I sat down on the sofa, but I rested on its ge, ready to spring up if I got the chance.

'Get comfortable,' he said. 'Go on, sit right back.'

I sat right back. The sofa was like marshmallow. I knew it 377.

was almost as good as restraints. I wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

'Yeah, it's a b.i.t.c.h, isn't it?' Hoffer was saying. 'I sat in it earlier on while I was figuring out what to do. Took me five f.u.c.king minutes to get out of it. It's a regular Venus flytrap.

So, Mr Wesley-Weston-West, what're you doing here?'

'The same as you probably.'

'Well, I hope you've got some tools with you, because that safe isn't budging.'

He was pointing in the direction of the far wall. He'd taken down a large seascape painting to reveal a small wall safe. Even from here I could see he'd had a go at it. The wall all around it was sc.r.a.ped and gouged, and the metal surface of the safe was scratched and dented.

'I can open it,' I said.

'That's good. Because I want to stick your head in it then push my pistol up your a.s.s.'

'That's cla.s.s, Hoffer.'

'I'll tell you what cla.s.s is, cla.s.s is leading me on this f.u.c.king chase halfway across the world and back. That's so cla.s.sy I'm going to blow you away.'

I felt tired suddenly. I mean, dog-tired. There was no steam left in me, no fight. I rubbed at my forehead.

'I want a drink,' I said.

'Provost hasn't got a d.a.m.ned drop in the house.' He reached into his jacket and pulled out a half bottle. 'That's why I had to go fetch this.' He tossed the bottle on to the couch beside me. It was Jim Beam, a couple of inches missing from the top. I unscrewed the cap and took a good deep gulp. Afterwards, I didn't feel quite so tired.

'How did you find me?'

He came close enough to me to take back the bottle, then retreated again. He took a slug, keeping his eyes and his Smith & Wesson 459 on me. He didn't bother recapping the bottle, but left it on the mantelpiece.

'Don't forget,' I said, 'your prints are on that.'

378.

'And yours,' he said. 'I'll wipe it before I go. You look like you're ready for another shot already.'

But I shook my head. 'Any more and I'll fall asleep, no offence.'

He smiled. 'None taken. But I don't want you asleep. I've never killed a man while he's sleeping. In fact, I've never killed anyone, period, not even in anger, never mind anyone defenceless. I'm not like you, man. I don't kill the innocents.

You f.u.c.ked up big when you hit Walkins's daughter.'

'I know.'

'Yeah, and I bet you still lose sleep over it. I bet you lose sleep over all of them, man, all your victims. Well, I'm going to enjoy killing you.'

'Killing isn't as easy as you might think. Maybe you should hide me away till your client can come and help. I'm sure he wouldn't mind firing off a round or two.'

'You're probably right, but then he hasn't worked for that privilege the way I have. How did I find you? I didn't. You found me. I was waiting outside to see who turned up. I was expecting Provost or Kline.'

'You know Kline?'

'I've met him.'

'He's dead.'

'I'm pleased to hear it. He was about as evil a f.u.c.k as has ever given me indigestion. I hate indigestion at breakfast, it stays with me the rest of the day. Heartburn, you know.'

I nodded. 'Provost's dead, too.'

'You've been busy. So what the f.u.c.k was it all about?'

I shrugged. 'Listen,' I said, 'I want to thank you for something.'

He narrowed his eyes. 'What?'

'Covering up Max's head the way you did. His daughter found him.'

'Well, those sick f.u.c.ks left the head teetering on the body.'

'I know, and thanks.'

Ts she still around?'

379.

'She's ... she's still around.'

"Don't worry,' he said, 'I've got no grudge with her.'

'Yes, I know.'

"This is you and me, Mikey, the way it was always supposed to be. Oh hey, your folks say h.e.l.lo.'

It was like a blow to the head. 'What?'

'I had this Army guy check haemophilia cases. It was a short list, and one of the names was Michael Weston. I found your mom and dad. They say h.e.l.lo. That's why I was so long getting here. Sidetracked, you might say. But I know a lot about you now, and that's nice, seeing how we're not going to be able to get acquainted the normal way.' He saw something like disbelief on my face. 'Your father's called John, he's retired now but he's still Army through and through. Your mother's called Alexis. They live in Stock- port.' He smiled. 'Am I getting warm?'

'f.u.c.k it, Hoffer, just kill me.'

'What's in the safe, Mike? Get me interested.'

'Huh?'

'You came here for whatever's in that safe. I want to know what it is.'

'Proof,' I said. 'This whole s.h.i.+tty deal is down to Kline and a b.l.o.o.d.y typing error.'

I had his interest now, which was good. It kept me from being killed. I told him the story, taking my time. I decided I didn't want to die. I didn't want anyone else to die. Not today, maybe not ever.

'That sounds,' Hofier said, finis.h.i.+ng the hooch, 'like a crock of twenty-carat gold-plated s.h.i.+t.' * 'There are papers in the safe.' ; ; 'And you can open it?' I nodded. 'Go on then.'

He followed me to the telephone. There were a lot of scribbles on the message-pad, a lot of numbers and letters. I found what I wanted and tore the top sheet off, taking it with me to the wall-safe.

'Bulls.h.i.+t,' Hoffer sneered disbelievingly as I read from the, 380 I.

sheet and started turning the dial. I pulled on the handle and opened the safe slowly.

I looked inside, knowing if he wanted to see, he'd have to come right up behind my back. I could feel him behind me.

He was close, but was he close enough? If I swung at him, would I connect with anything other than air? Then I saw what was in the safe. There were papers there, and a tidy bundle of banknotes. But there was also a snub-nose revolver, a beautiful little 38.1 took my decision, but took it too late. The b.u.t.t of a gun connected with the back of my head, and my legs collapsed from under me.

I woke up cramped, like I'd been sleeping in a car. I blinked open my eyes and remembered where I was. I looked around. The pain behind my eyes was agony. I wondered if Hotter had been in there and done some DIY surgery while I'd been out. Maybe a spot of trepanning.

I was in a bright white bathroom with a sunken whirlpool bath and gold taps. I was over by the sink, sitting on the cold tiled floor with my arms behind me. My arms were stiff. I looked round and saw that they were handcuffed round a couple of copper water pipes beneath the sink. My feet had been tied together with a man's brown leather belt.

Most disconcerting of all, Hoffer was sitting on the toilet not three feet away.

He had his trousers on though. And he'd put the toilet lid down so he'd be more comfortable. He had my money belt slung over one shoulder, and he was leafing through some doc.u.ments.

'Well, Mike,' he said, 'looks like you were right, huh?

Some f.u.c.king business, handed five mil by the government.

Thank you very much and shalom. Jesus.' He patted his Jacket pocket. 'Yet the sc.u.mbag only kept five thou in his safe. Still, it'll buy a few lunches. And thanks for your donation.' He tossed the money-belt towards me. 'I've left you the traveller's cheques. I don't want to get into any 38i forgery s.h.i.+t. Not that they accept traveller's cheques where you're headed.'

I rattled the handcuffs.

'Good, aren't they? New York PD issue. Before they went over to plastic or whatever s.h.i.+t they use now. Look, I'll leave the key over here, okay?' He put it on the floor beside him.

'There you go. It'll give you something to do while you're dying. Of course, you may already be dying, huh? I whacked you pretty good. There could be some internal haemorrhaging going on. See, I know about haemophilia, I did some reading. Man, they're this close to a cure, huh? Genetics and stuff. f.u.c.k all those liberals trying to stop laboratory experiments. Mike, we need more of those lab animals with holes drilled in their s.c.r.o.t.u.ms and wires running through them like they're circuit-boards or something.'

'Circuit-boards don't have wires, Leo. At least, not many.'