firmament above. He stood immobile for long seconds, puffed breath out of his cheeks then turned to Clay and Andrea. “These guys won’t be alone. If there’s a kill squad on your tail there will be at least four to six men assigned. We’d better get to high ground because the rest of the team won’t be far away.”
Clay patted Andrea on the shoulder, pushing her gently towards Danny. “Stay by him.”
* * *
Clay walked over to the body of Officer Ryback. A pool of dark sticky liquid had formed around his head. Clay bowed his head for a moment in silent tribute. He wondered about Ryback’s family. Did he have a wife sitting at home, blissfully unaware of her husband’s demise? Children, maybe? He knew only too well the grief that the news would bring.
He picked up his licence and registration from the blacktop, where the officer had dropped them. Then he stalked over to the squad car and slid into the driver’s seat. Reaching for the microphone mounted on the dashboard, he keyed the mike and found his voice, “Officer down, repeat officer down. I’m reporting the death of Officer Ryback. We’re out on the 375. Twenty miles south of Rachel.”
A brief burst of static preceded a local Nevada accent. “Who is this?” A second’s pause then, “Please identify yourself and repeat your last message.”
“My name is Clay Gunn. Officer Ryback has been shot and killed. When you see the video playback from the car camera you will see that I was not responsible. There are two more dead bodies out here as well. You’ll see what happened on the tape.”
“This is dispatch… Is Bobby really dead?” The timbre in the voice turned from impartial controller to a scared young woman in an instant.
“I’m sorry, but he is.” Clay pictured the woman sitting in the radio-control room of a squat brick and breezeblock building that was so typical of rural police stations. She would probably know all the serving officers as well as her own family. A death like this affected everyone in the community. He gritted his teeth as the radio remained silent for long seconds. Then the woman spoke again. The professional air had returned to her voice.
“Please remain in your present location. Officers will be dispatched.”
“Look we can’t stay here. There may be more gunmen. We’re heading into Rachel. I figure that we’ll be safest in town.” A movement by the RV caught his eye. Andrea was standing over the body of the man Clay had killed, peering at the ruined face. He watched as she rested her foot on the corpse’s throat, bringing it down tentatively at first, then harder. Then she raised her foot and stamped down over and over again. She threw back her head and screamed.
* * *
Danny levelled the MP5K as Andrea’s cry cut through the night air. He knew the sound well. Fury and despair; a desperate need for revenge.
A distinctive rumbling pulled his attention away from Andrea. A bright spot of light low to the road. “Andrea, get back in the RV.” She paused only long enough to spit on the corpse, then did as she was told.
The radio on Danny’s belt crackled to life. “We’re one minute out.”
He scowled but keyed the mike in response, trying to keep his accent neutral. “Roger that.” He saw Clay making his way back from the police car and signalled at him:
Incoming.
Danny knew that there would be at least another two men. This type of operative never travelled without adequate backup. They would be equipped to the same standard as the two dead men. He hefted the MP5K against his shoulder. His mouth twitched. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
“How do you want to play this?” asked Clay. He hauled himself into the RV, Danny following.
“A moving target is harder to hit.”
Clay nodded. “So let’s get moving.” He turned the key and shifted the RV into drive. He coaxed the cumbersome vehicle into a wide arc around the dead bodies and the patrol car, then pushed the gas pedal hard
Clay patted Andrea on the shoulder, pushing her gently towards Danny. “Stay by him.”
* * *
Clay walked over to the body of Officer Ryback. A pool of dark sticky liquid had formed around his head. Clay bowed his head for a moment in silent tribute. He wondered about Ryback’s family. Did he have a wife sitting at home, blissfully unaware of her husband’s demise? Children, maybe? He knew only too well the grief that the news would bring.
He picked up his licence and registration from the blacktop, where the officer had dropped them. Then he stalked over to the squad car and slid into the driver’s seat. Reaching for the microphone mounted on the dashboard, he keyed the mike and found his voice, “Officer down, repeat officer down. I’m reporting the death of Officer Ryback. We’re out on the 375. Twenty miles south of Rachel.”
A brief burst of static preceded a local Nevada accent. “Who is this?” A second’s pause then, “Please identify yourself and repeat your last message.”
“My name is Clay Gunn. Officer Ryback has been shot and killed. When you see the video playback from the car camera you will see that I was not responsible. There are two more dead bodies out here as well. You’ll see what happened on the tape.”
“This is dispatch… Is Bobby really dead?” The timbre in the voice turned from impartial controller to a scared young woman in an instant.
“I’m sorry, but he is.” Clay pictured the woman sitting in the radio-control room of a squat brick and breezeblock building that was so typical of rural police stations. She would probably know all the serving officers as well as her own family. A death like this affected everyone in the community. He gritted his teeth as the radio remained silent for long seconds. Then the woman spoke again. The professional air had returned to her voice.
“Please remain in your present location. Officers will be dispatched.”
“Look we can’t stay here. There may be more gunmen. We’re heading into Rachel. I figure that we’ll be safest in town.” A movement by the RV caught his eye. Andrea was standing over the body of the man Clay had killed, peering at the ruined face. He watched as she rested her foot on the corpse’s throat, bringing it down tentatively at first, then harder. Then she raised her foot and stamped down over and over again. She threw back her head and screamed.
* * *
Danny levelled the MP5K as Andrea’s cry cut through the night air. He knew the sound well. Fury and despair; a desperate need for revenge.
A distinctive rumbling pulled his attention away from Andrea. A bright spot of light low to the road. “Andrea, get back in the RV.” She paused only long enough to spit on the corpse, then did as she was told.
The radio on Danny’s belt crackled to life. “We’re one minute out.”
He scowled but keyed the mike in response, trying to keep his accent neutral. “Roger that.” He saw Clay making his way back from the police car and signalled at him:
Incoming.
Danny knew that there would be at least another two men. This type of operative never travelled without adequate backup. They would be equipped to the same standard as the two dead men. He hefted the MP5K against his shoulder. His mouth twitched. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
“How do you want to play this?” asked Clay. He hauled himself into the RV, Danny following.
“A moving target is harder to hit.”
Clay nodded. “So let’s get moving.” He turned the key and shifted the RV into drive. He coaxed the cumbersome vehicle into a wide arc around the dead bodies and the patrol car, then pushed the gas pedal hard
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