weakness that rarely accompanied homicidal ability, something that made Salton exploitable. Salton needed someone else to be in charge, which in turn allowed him to rationalize not being responsible for his actions. Salton, as deadly as he was, was not a psychopath. When acting on his own, he invariably suffered self-recrimination afterward. When directed to violence by someone else, he suffered no such guilt. One night they got very drunk on prison hooch, and Salton told him that his mother had been a Bible-thumping lunatic, while his father was an alcoholic over-the-road trucker who, when returning home, would invariably remark his territory by beating the hell out of both of them.
Salton had been the ideal instrument to carry out the Pentad murders. He was efficient, dependable, and, as he proved in setting up the Bertok suicide, fearless, and he could follow the most complicated instructions. Best of all, he kept Radek from having to get his own hands dirty. And, most important, Radek knew that Salton was incapable of ratting him, or anyone else, out.
The agent in the house had become a threat. First surviving the tunnel, then the shoot-out the day before. Now he had crossed paths with Radek again. He couldn’t know what they were doing there, but there he was. Why did he keep going back to the house? Radek feared it was only a matter of time until he discovered the trick bars on the bedroom window. If he did, the FBI would again be trying to figure out who was responsible for the murders instead of just chasing their tails looking for the money. There was only one thing to do.
“Is he still in the house?”
“Yeah,” Salton answered.
“What’s he doing in there? They did all their crime-scene stuff yesterday.”
“You don’t think he can figure out that trick window, do you?”
There was something uncertain in Salton’s voice. “Why, Lee? What if he does? Didn’t you wipe the plate down before you closed it up?”
“I’m almost positive I did.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“He was trying to kick the door in and shoot me, remember?”
“If he finds any one of our prints, we’re through.”
“What do you want me to do, Vic?”
“Think you can take him out?”
Salton leaned across the front seat and picked up a Heckler & Koch submachine gun from the passenger-side floor. “As much trouble as this guy has been, try and stop me.” He chambered a round.
“Once you put him down, we’ve got to destroy the evidence he’s collected. Just torch the house so we don’t have to worry about it again.”
Salton put the car in gear. “My pleasure.” He pulled up a little past the house, closer to the salvage yard than to the one-story structure, and got out, leaving the engine running. Cutting across the lawn on an angle so he couldn’t be seen as easily, he pulled himself up on the front porch silently and flattened against the wall. He could now hear Vail moving around inside. Counting to three, he spun himself in front of the door with the MP5 positioned on his hip ready to fire. Vail was in the bedroom doorway, putting the door back up over the opening. As soon as he saw Salton, he pushed it closed.
Salton took three quick strides toward the bedroom and opened up, firing full automatic, low through the door in case Vail had hit the floor. And if he was still standing, the raking burst would take his legs out from under him. After firing all thirty rounds in the magazine, he slammed in a second clip and moved to the door. Raising the weapon to his shoulder, he kicked open the door. The room was empty and the bars on the window had been swung open.
Behind him, Salton heard Vail’s voice. “You would think that if there was one person who wouldn’t fall for that it would be you.”
Vail watched Salton’s neck muscles tighten with decision and knew what was coming next. Salton started to turn, firing before he could see Vail, hoping that the spraying rounds would cause the agent to take cover.
Vail stood his ground and fired one shot, hitting Salton in the side of the head just above the ear. The machine gun went silent and Salton’s lifeless body hit the floor. Vail moved to the wall next to the front window and peered out carefully, looking for the Honda. He could see it now. It had moved up to where the Dodge had been sitting.
After a few seconds,