Bull Mountain(68)

Halford tilted his head toward his shoulder and shot a brief but confused glance at Bracken. Bracken lifted an eyebrow in response and Halford turned his attention back to Wilcombe. “Yeah, I reckon it is,” he said slowly, as if he’d just joined a game where he was unsure of the rules. “Now tell me what you plan on doing about it.”

“I wish I could help you, Halford, but I cannot. I assure you I know absolutely nothing about the trouble you’re having up there.”

“I don’t give a shit about your assurances, Oscar. All I want to know is how you intend to get me my money.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t intend on doing anything.”

Halford chewed his lip and squeezed the phone. “Start making sense, Oscar.”

“Listen to me carefully, Halford. I’m truly sorry for whatever is grieving you up there. I think we both know that my club president and his associates were not responsible for anything that belongs to you going missing. In fact, I have complete faith in your business sense that you will be able to recover goods stolen on your turf. It is a minor setback that I’m sure you can sort out. But while I have you on the phone, I’m afraid that I have more bad news.”

Halford went eerily calm and the rest of the room remained silent.

“Are you there, Halford?”

“Keep talking, old man.”

“I’m afraid that circumstances beyond either of our control are going to force our business together to come to a close. As of today, there will be no more commerce exchanged between our two enterprises.”

“Speak English, you Limey f*ck.”

“I’m out, Halford. Retired. After this call, we will not speak again.”

“Just like that? After more than forty years of partnership with my family, you’re just going to up and walk away?” Halford’s voice was oddly serene. Scabby Mike and the others knew it was a precursor of terrible things to come, like the quiet sound of distant thunder.

“I would hardly call it a partnership, Halford. Just a business relationship that has come to an end.”

“You called my father ‘family.’”

“Yes, your father was like family. It’s a sentiment I never extended to you and your brothers. This is what is best for us all. And Halford, I must ask that you not act irrationally toward the men currently representing my interests. It will only start a senseless, bloody war with the Jackals that will only end in large amounts of suffering on both sides. Something I’m sure neither of us want to endure.”

“You done?” Halford asked.

“Yes, Mr. Burroughs, I’m done.”

Halford flipped the phone closed, stared at it for a moment, then threw it across the room. It shattered against the stone fireplace. All the men surrounding him stood firm, but each one of them felt the prick of fear in the backs of their necks when Halford Burroughs let out a roar that shook the house. “That son of a bitch!” He grabbed the edge of the oak table and effortlessly flipped it over, sending gun parts and oil containers flying. “I’m going to f*cking kill him!” He turned to a massive gun rack behind the table and pulled down a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun. He broke the rifle in half to ensure that it was loaded, and flipped it closed. “That son of a bitch!” he screamed again. Even Scabby Mike felt the twinge of uncertainty as to whether or not Halford was capable of turning on them. Only Bracken had the balls to speak.

“What’s going on, Hal? What did he say?”

Halford slowed his frenzy and looked at Bracken, as if he’d just noticed there were other people in the room. His expression was more wild animal than human. “I’m going to f*cking kill him.”

“Oscar? Why? What did he say?”

Halford rolled his head from side to side and popped the bones in his neck. “No,” he said, “not the Brit. He’s just an old man closer to death than he wants to admit. He’s got heat and he’s rolling over. I was ready to put you in his seat anyway.”

Bracken looked confused.

“If I were you,” Hal said, “I’d watch my back. That old bastard probably already sold you down the river. You said it yourself that the list of people who knew you were coming was short. Who is at the top of that list? Now get out of my way, I got business to handle.” Bracken stepped aside, but before Halford could step through, a figure appeared at the screen door.

“You okay in there, Mr. Burroughs?” Rabbit said.

The blast nearly deafened everyone and cut Rabbit in half.

“Goddamn it, Halford,” Scabby Mike said. “What the hell did you just do?”

“Clean that f*ckin’ tweeker off my porch. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Mike followed Halford out the buckshot-peppered hole that used to be a door. Rabbit was a mangled mess partially wrapped in pieces of screen mesh.

“Halford,” Mike yelled, confused and angry. “Where the hell are you going?” He squatted at Rabbit’s body and closed the dead boy’s eyelids.

“I’m going to see my little brother,” Halford yelled back.

“Clayton? Why?” Mike stood up. “What does Clayton have to do with this?”

Halford stopped and turned around. “He has everything to do with this. He shows up here out of the blue, talking about how cops knew everything about our thing up here and about how my money would be the first thing to go. He even mentioned Wilcombe’s name. And now I’m getting jacked at gunpoint on the highway.”