Following at Calhoun’s fast pace, they arrived at a spot on the tracks where they curved enough so the woods on either side of the tracks hid approaches. Calhoun pointed on the right side of the tracks.
“You go straight that way, Jess. Go in about twenty feet. We’ll watch you.”
Jess gave Calhoun a mocking salute, and entered the woods to the right, stopping at what he figured to be twenty feet. He crouched down. “How’s this? I have good vision on the tracks ahead too without any big obstructions.”
“We can barely see you. Hold position. C’mon Rafe.” Calhoun positioned Lansing only slightly inside the wooded area, having him crouch down. “How’s Rafe’s spot?”
“Real good,” Jess called out. “I can only spot either of you when you move.”
“Will it be a problem if I stay close to the woods’ edge, but ten feet further along than you, Rafe? I don’t want in your line of fire,” Dominic said as he high stepped to a spot to the left of Lansing, but further toward the track clearing. He crouched. “How’s this?”
“You’re good, boss. I’m not going to spray anyhow. I’ll get him, but I’m aiming. You’re in the clear with no chance of hitting Jess or me, so go full auto on him if you want.”
“Yeah… maybe I will.” Calhoun felt the drizzle turn into light rain a few minutes later. He smiled under his hood. “It’s a good thing we hurried, Rafe. He’ll be cutting short his dog trot for the day.”
Rafe Lansing did not respond. Calhoun at first figured Lansing was being cautious about noise carrying. After ten minutes went by, he swore under his breath. Turning slightly, Dominic called out in a hushed voice. “Rafe?”
When he didn’t get an answer, he checked the tracks for any sign of his prey. Seeing none, he straightened from his spot, and moved to Lansing’s position as quietly as he could. He spotted Lansing in a sitting position, with knees braced against his chest while leaning against a tree. His arms rested between his legs. Rafe’s head was tilted slightly as if listening for something. His posture seemed off to Dominic.
“Rafe? Damn you. Answer me,” Calhoun hissed. He creeped closer, crouching more while turning from side to side, watching for strange movement. Reaching out, he grasped Lansing’s arm, shaking it.
Lansing slowly fell away from the tree, crumpling to his side in the leaves and mud. His head flopped back against the ground. The rain slicker hood fell away from his face. Seeing the wide sightless eyes staring at him in the dusky light, Calhoun stumbled backwards, his hands shooting out to catch his fall. The Uzi strapped over his shoulder slipped into the mud. Lansing watched Calhoun’s descent with uncaring eyes, the huge open slice at his neck still seeping rain thinned blood onto the bloody shadows beneath him.
*
Nick jogged to his usual turnout to the left along the railway tracks. Since discovering the tracks on the first day, he and Deke explored the wooded area on both sides of the track for miles along it, enjoying the trek in rain or sunshine. The day before, Nick had spotted the out of place men wearing rain slickers as they waited in their vehicle – a black Mercedes with license plate matching one of three vehicles owned by Dominic Calhoun. He grinned as he ran with Deke beside him considering the deadly mistake made by his freed pimp acquaintance. Ever since he was alerted by Grace and Tim of Calhoun’s release, Nick waited to find out if Grace’s contact had been right about Agent Anderson mouthing off about Nick’s whereabouts while Calhoun and his minion Lansing walked by. Anticipating the worst case scenario, Nick had been prepared for an open gun battle or a more clandestine approach.
Pausing as the tracks wound out of sight from the turnoff with the road, Nick and Deke circled back into the woods. With range finders in hand, he waited for his prey to follow him. They parked their vehicles at the turnoff, getting out in their rain slickers, and standing at the turnoff like three fatted calves waiting for the butcher’s knife. When they committed to following, Nick grinned, and petted Deke.
“Wait until you see old Gus’s face when I hustle you out of here. C’mon, Dekester. We have to get a faster than usual sprint going, not so fast I fall and break my Muerto neck, but fast enough to get you to the awaiting Payaso. El Muerto has his deadly work cut out for him today.”
Nick jogged at a pace twice the speed he normally did for the next mile, then angled up the slope toward the road in the distance. Gus was parked in the GMC fifty yards from where Nick and Deke exited the woods. He drove alongside, stopping while his passengers boarded.