Chapter 9 – Camping woes

"Stop it! Leave him alone! Don't you touch him!" Stacy screeched as she stared defiantly at Jowls.

"Step down Victor!" Mason yelled. "I said, back off!" Mac could tell it took every ounce of self-control for the big man to step away. He stooped to pick up his Desert Eagle with his left hand and slunk back to the fallen tree to lick his wounds watching them with a simmering fury as Mason and Casey made their way back down the slope.

Mason stomped up to them, set his rifle against the stone where Mac and Stacy had sat earlier and glared at Gaunt who was cradling his broken finger. He flicked his head towards Casey. "Fix that." Then Mason turned his attention to Mac and Stacy who hadn't moved from her defensive position crouched with her arms around Mac. Mason was staring at Mac with a hard expression. Mac was wondering if he was deciding whether to kill him or not. "That was very foolish Hank," he eventually said. "But I'm not going to kill you just yet. There's something I need you to do first. Now get up." Mac levered himself to his feet, his right hand clasped to his side where he could feel the blood easing from the wound. "Let me see." Surprised Mac removed his fingers and Mason examined the wound. The bullet had cut through the jacket and his shirt slicing through the skin an inch below his rib cage. Although it was a shallow graze, it was bleeding profusely. "We have to stop that."

Casey finished splinting Gaunt's fingers with a stick he had found and a basic medical kit he had retrieved from his back-pack. "What do you want to do Cyrus?"

"We'll camp here. That clearing we passed near the head of the falls will do." Mason looked up at the sky. "It's going to rain. We'll start out again at first light." With that he grabbed the rifle, slung it over his shoulder and pulled his handgun. He waved it Stacy and Mac. "That way." Despite the pain Mac couldn't help a small smug smile as Mason ordered Jowls to bring his backpack too. He rather liked the idea of Jowls being his pack-horse.

The five of them struggled up the slope brushing aside the foliage along the tiniest of tracks that led up to the right of the waterfall. The canopy overhead seemed to close in around them sheltering them from the worsening weather above. Eventually they emerged into a rock-strewn clearing. The sound of the waterfall was still audible but they were more than sixty yards away so it made for a gentle soothing backdrop to the rustling of the leaves. Mac realized that it was getting late and the sky had darkened. Bad weather was closing in and exhaustion was catching up with him.

"Collect wood," Mason ordered Stacy. Surprised she looked at Mac who nodded. "But stay where we can see you," he added menacingly pointing his gun at Mac. Stacy glanced nervously at Mac as though not trusting Mason to keep to his word. Then she cautiously moved off to pick up branches and twigs. Mason glared at Mac. "Sit there and don't move or I'll put another bullet in you." Mac walked slowly to a fallen tree and eased himself down. He wondered why Mason hadn't put him to work. Clearly he needed him and an idea was beginning to form in Mac's head as to the reason why. Jowls stomped up to him throwing the rucksack down at his feet with a look that promised Mac he was now at the top of the big man's personal hit list. Mac watched as the three men pulled tarpaulins from their packs. Clearing an area of stones, they spread one on the ground securing it with tent pegs and hoisted the other in the air attaching it to four trees. They tied it higher at the front so it sloped back towards the fallen tree ensuring that any rain that fell would run off behind the huge log. Casey then cleared an area of ground and surrounded it with rocks for the fire. Stacy brought an armful of wood and was sent off for more though she kept within sight, her eyes flicking constantly towards Mac and he found himself touched by her concern.

Within an hour they had shelter and a fire. Mason had even set some water to heat. He had ordered Mac to the right hand side of the shelter to sit against the fallen tree. He had then settled Stacy in the opposite corner, given her water and a protein bar ordering her to eat it. Stacy nibbled unenthusiastically at the bar as she watched Mason go to the fire, pull a long hunting knife out of his pack, unsheathe it and thrust the blade into the fire. From the blank look on her face Mac knew she had no idea what Mason was doing but he did and he wasn't looking forward to it.

.

After several hours of fitful sleep, Mac awoke to the soft patter of rain on the tarpaulin stretched above them. His mouth was dry and he would have given his right arm for a toothbrush, a shower and a shave. With a two day stubble and the bruise on his face that would be turning yellow and green now he was sure he looked pretty disreputable. Turning his head, he glanced over at Stacy who was still asleep in a sleeping bag next to the hunched form of Mason, the rifle lying next to him and his Glock in his hand. Mac winced as he wriggled awkwardly into a sitting position resting his back against the fallen tree. He was stiff from having slept in virtually one position. His shoulders protested at the movement. The zip tie that had been secured to a tent peg driven deep into the wood had dug into his wrists leaving angry red marks but that was the least of his worries. The events of the previous evening came flooding back to him and he wondered how long he would be able to maintain his pretence.

He glanced over at Casey. As though sensing his eyes on him the man in question rolled over and looked directly at Mac. His face was unreadable. Slowly Casey sat up and rolled his shoulders rubbing at his neck. He was clearly not accustomed to sleeping on the ground. He undid his sleeping bag and revived the fire that was beginning to smoulder in the light drizzle glancing at Mason and Jowls as he did so. Turning back to Mac he ran a hand across his goatee thoughtfully. He glanced once more at Mason who, to all intents and purposes, seemed to be sleeping. Then he pulled the medical kit from his bag. He stepped over the sleeping form of Jowls and squatted down by Mac. Pulling a small pair of scissors from the kit, he snipped the zip tie around Mac's wrists waiting while Mac rubbed some feeling back into his hands. He then gestured to Mac to lift his shirt and tentatively peeled away the edge of the dressing. Mac noted the same look of concern as the previous evening. "I'll put a fresh dressing on," he whispered. He rooted around in the pack and passed Mac two more pain-killers and a bottle of a water.

"Thank you." Mac said simply when he had finished. Casey nodded and looked as though he was about to say something but Mason stirred, coming awake immediately. Mason frowned at them.

"You'll live," Casey said gruffly pretending not to notice Mason staring hard at them. "Swallow those and eat something. You're gonna' need your strength." Casey got up and walked away, stowed the kit and walked off into the trees to relieve himself.

.

Fortunately the rain stopped as they began to break camp. Once more Mac found himself sidelined from the work as though they needed to keep him from exerting himself. As the men rolled up the tarpaulins Stacy sidled over to him. "Are you okay?" she asked in a small voice still horrified by what she had witnessed the previous evening. Watching Mason draw the red-hot blade from the fire it wasn't until he had told Casey and Jowls to hold Mac down that she realized what he intended to do. Ashamed, she remembered that she had screamed and closed her eyes. She had cried herself to sleep.

"I'm fine Stacy." Mac reached out and put an arm around her shoulders as he looked at her tear-stained face and puffy eyes. "It'll be okay you'll see."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He looked at her questioningly. Slowly she raised her eyes to his. "It wasn't you who got me into this. It's me who got you into it. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry." Tears sprang to her eyes. He pulled her close and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"No Stacy, it's not your fault. It's theirs. You have nothing to be sorry for." Mac whispered as he held the trembling girl in his arms. He felt his anger towards their captors take root like a red-hot ball of fire in the pit of stomach. He took a deep breath to get it under control. He had to play this very carefully. He had one aim and one aim only. To keep Stacy safe.

"Did my father commit a crime?" Stacy mumbled into his shirt.

"I don't know."

"What do they want? What did my father take?"

"I've no idea," Mac sighed. "But I have a feeling we're about to find out."

Mason turned and yelled to them. "Get moving. We've got a long day ahead of us."

.

Unlike his partners in crime, Ezekiel Dryer, Zeke to his friends, had spent his day eating, drinking and gambling following it up with a comfortable night in a motel with a heavily made-up girl that he had picked up in a bar. He'd risen late, paid her well and headed to the local diner for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes washed down with good strong coffee.

At Mason's request he drove the black van down to Albany taking it to a shopping mall and parking it next to a series of dumpsters as near to the staff car-parking spaces and delivery area as he could get. He'd picked a discrete corner away from the security cameras, carefully wiped it down and left the door unlocked and the keys in the ignition in the hope some kids would take it for a ride. He'd taken the black draw-string bag and had been about to throw it in one of dumpsters when curiosity had gotten the better of him. He peered in the bag and rummaged around. He contemplated selling the cell phones for a minute but knew that wasn't a good idea. Then spotted the wallet. His eyes sparkled with greed as he pulled out the wad of dollar bills. He shoved them into his pocket and was about to toss the wallet with the back when he noticed the plastic card tucked into the soft leather folds. He pulled it out. "What the hell?" He stared at the picture of the man he knew as Hank. He read and re-read the name on the card and the words: 'NYPD Crime Lab'. Then he pulled out the credit cards and read the same name there. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

.