Free Fire - C. J. Box [133]
“That bastard,” Portenson whispered. “He’s out of control.”
In the lobby, whorls of fire roiling behind him, McCann said, “If we’re going to get all of this behind us and make a lot of money, which is all I’ve ever cared about and the only reason I associated with dolts like you, I need you idiots to shut up, quit having meetings, and listen to me. We’re going to do things differently,which means smarter. For once.”
He paused to let his words sink in. Joe tried to read the four men both through the glass and on the monitor. Langston looked angry, defensive, struggling with his first impulse to pull rank and ream someone out. Barron tried mightily to distance himself from Langston without physically moving, and appearedready to concede. Ward stared at the floor, confused and resigned to the bad choice he’d made. Layborn sneered at Mc-Cann’s words.
“He’s fucking us,” Portenson moaned.
“Hold on,” Joe said, “I think he knows where he’s going.”
Clay McCann said, “No more accidents like Mark Cutler.”
“We had no choice,” Langston said. “He was about to—”
“No more ambushes of park rangers like Judy Demming.”
“That wasn’t planned,” Langston said, stammering. “It just happened.”
“Okay,” Portenson whispered inside, clearly relieved. “We’re back on track. He just got the bastards to incriminate themselves.”
McCann changed the subject. “When we agreed that I would take care of Hoening and the Gopher State Five, you agreed to pay me for it. I did my part. You didn’t do yours.”
Barron said, “The SEC—”
“Fuck the SEC,” McCann said. “My deal was with you.”
“We can still pay,” Barron said. “If we can get things back on track like you say. If we can make an announcement to attract investors—”
McCann exploded: “That’s what you should have done months ago!”
Layborn said to Barron, “Why are you letting this asshole dictate to us? Can’t you see what he’s doing?”
Ward looked terrified, Joe thought. He almost felt sorry for him.
“So,” McCann said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Did you bring me my money?”
Silence. Ward looked as if he was about to break down. Joe saw Langston make eye contact with Layborn, giving him a prearranged signal.
“Even better,” Layborn said, unleashed, narrowing the distancebetween him and McCann. “I brought you this,” and before Joe could react, he raised his weapon and fired twice, pop-pop, the gunfire splitting the silence. The impact of the bullets sent McCann toppling straight over backward in his rocking chair.
“Jesus!” Ashby shouted, scrambling.
Suddenly, Layborn swung his pistol toward Bob Olig, saying,“And you—”
Through the radio, McIlvaine barked, “Pull!”
And Layborn’s head exploded from automatic gunfire. His headless body stayed erect for a second before crumpling to the floor.
“Freeze!” McIlvaine shouted from the dark. “All three of you, down on the ground, hands behind your heads, now!”
Ashby threw open the gift-shop door. Joe, Nate, and Portensonran out behind him. Joe felt adrenaline shoot through him like electric currents as he scrambled, the afterimage of Layborn’s death seared into his vision.
Everything was happening at once: agents were thundering down the stairs in their heavy boots; Olig was screaming and cursing from where he was now hiding behind the fireplace; Langston, Ward, and Barron were dropping to their knees and flopping onto their bellies as ordered.
Within half a minute all three were cuffed and searched. Only Langston had a weapon. Barron was pleading, saying he had no part in anything, was an innocent businessman. Langston hissed at him to shut up, but Barron was already offeringto testify in exchange for a lighter sentence.
Ward was in apparent shock, staring at a river of Layborn’s blood as it snaked across the floor toward him.
As Joe walked toward the still-living triumvirate of EnerDyne,he saw something white and blood-flecked rolling slowly across the hardwood floor and reached down and snagged it as if spearing a lazy grounder at shortstop. Layborn’s glass eye looked at him accusingly from his palm. He remembered what