Winter's Rage, page 1
Tibor: Winter’s Rage
A Byron Tibor Novel
Sean Black
Steven Savile
SBD
Contents
About Tibor: Winter’s Rage
Praise for Sean Black
Also by Sean Black
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Also by Sean Black
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About Tibor: Winter’s Rage
Still hunted by the government he fought for, Special Forces veteran Byron Tibor has taken refuge in the remote Appalachian town of Winter’s Rage.
But Byron’s peaceful existence is about to be shattered by the arrival of a troubled young woman on the run from a violent drug cartel.
Three killers are looking for revenge. But they haven’t reckoned with running into Byron Tibor.
As a snow storm cuts off the small town from the rest of the world, the scene is set for a bloody confrontation.
Praise for Sean Black
“Sean Black writes with the pace of Lee Child and the heart of Harlan Coben.”
Joseph Finder, New York Times bestselling author of Paranoia and Company Man
“Black drives his hero into the tightest of spots with a force and energy that jump off the page. This is a writer, and a hero, to watch.”
The Daily Mail
“Funny, tough and furiously-paced, Sean Black writes like a punch to the gut.”
Jesse Kellerman
Also by Sean Black
The Ryan Lock Series in Order
Lockdown (US/Canada)
Lockdown (UK/ Commonwealth)
Deadlock (US/Canada)
Deadlock (UK/Commonwealth)
Lock & Load (Short)
Gridlock (US/Canada)
Gridlock (UK/Commonwealth)
The Devil’s Bounty (US/Canada)
The Devil’s Bounty (UK/Commonwealth)
The Innocent
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Budapest/48 (Short)
The Edge of Alone
Second Chance
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1
It was the last house on the left at the end of a lonely dirt track. Tar-paper shingles flapped in the wind where they’d torn free of their nails, exposing the rotten wood underneath. The slats on the shutters had slipped, leaving strips of shadow across the sun-blistered paint. A long-abandoned climbing frame lay on its side in the overgrown yard, gently rusting in the thick air.
At the other end of the track, an old Cadillac Deville rolled slowly forward, its tires churning up the muddy surface. The air-conditioning was broken. It blew hot air into the car. The leather seats burned where they came into contact with bare skin. A C90 cassette jammed in the tape deck offered an endless loop of chart hits from the late 1980s.
Inside the Caddy sat Caleb, Dale and Henry. Blood brothers, but not in the way most people understood the term.
Henry, the guy in the backseat, leaned forward. “You ever hear about the Fukarwi tribe?”
The driver, Caleb, grunted something inaudible.
“Turn that shit down and listen. You might just learn something,” said Henry.
Caleb reached over and twisted the volume dial. The music fell away to a buzz.
Henry scooted forward a few more inches. “They’re out wandering the wilderness, see, looking for a land to call their own. Day and night. Always looking. Across mountains and valleys and endless plains. Through forests and across oceans. Always looking for a place to call their own.” He lowered his voice. “If you’re quiet enough, you can hear ’em, shouting out miserably, ‘We’re the Fukarwi.’”
The two men riding up front, Caleb and Dale, looked at each other, nonplussed, as Henry laughed at his own poor excuse for a joke. “You don’t get it? We’re the Fukarwi? Where the fuck are we?”
“That’s hilarious, Henry,” said Dale, his expression deadpan.
Caleb braked abruptly. The Caddy lurched to a halt. “This is the place.”
Henry was first out, walking up the weed-raddled block-paved path to the screen door. The mesh was torn in three places. He pulled open the screen and banged on the white wood. “Little pig, little pig,” he yelled, lips close to the door. “You know what comes next, Eddie.”
Dale and Caleb headed to the back, ready to put an end to any thoughts of escape the home-owner might have. Henry heard movement inside. He listened until he was sure it wasn’t someone coming to open the door.
“We aren’t selling anything today, Eddie. No Bibles, no Mary Kay,” he shouted. “This is just a friendly visit. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and open up?”
More movement. Frantic. Scrabbling around.
“I just wanna talk to you, Eddie. I’m looking for an old friend. We’ve been told you’re good with finding people who don’t want to be found. That’s all. Nothing to get your panties in a bunch over. So why don’t you come on out, and let’s talk?”
Henry heard glass breaking at the back. Either Dale or Caleb was helping things along. They were never the most patient people. Henry shrugged, world weary.
Stepping back, he rocked on his heels, planted a foot on the stoop and, using his body for leverage, kicked the door open. The wood around the lock splintered beneath the impact and the whole thing buckled as the metal tongue tore free of the hasp and the door burst inward. It bounced back on its hinges, almost cannoning into his face.
He stepped inside. In front of him, the silhouette of a man, presumably Eddie, was making a break for the back door. Behind Eddie the larger-than-life silhouette of Dale, backlit in the rear doorway.
“You might want to stay where you are,” said Henry. There was no need to shout anymore.
Eddie did as he was told. He turned around, shoulders slumped, body language screaming, Don’t hurt me. Pitiful.
“You know who we are, Eddie?”
“No,” Eddie said, shaking his head. The darkness of the interior did little to hide his panic. He couldn’t go forward, he couldn’t go back, but the fight-or-flight instinct was still hammering at his brain, yelling at him to run.
Henry took another step forward. “That’s probably for the best, if we’re being honest with each other. We can be honest, right? I feel like we’re old friends. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Eddie. Dale started to call you a unicorn last week, he was so sure you didn’t exist, see. But I knew you were out here. And I knew that eventually I’d find the road that’d bring me to your door. Nice place you’ve got yourself.”
The kitchen was a mess of unwashed dishes, open cans and boxes of ready-meals. The most valuable thing in there was a coffee-maker that belonged in a much nicer kitchen. It was thick w
“Girls. Two.”
“Nice. I like girls,” he said.
There was something in the way he spoke that caused Eddie to say, “They live with their mom.”
“Lucky for them, I’d say, given the state of this place, Eddie. Come on, let’s go through to the living room, be civilized about this. Sit down, have a talk, man to man. You wanna do that?”
“Do I have a choice?” said Eddie, already walking toward the front room.
Henry followed him through. The furniture was arranged around a big old television set. The walls were painted brothel red, and fairy lights hung above nicotine-yellow curtains—no doubt his kids’ idea of decorating. There was an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and a half-empty bottle of bourbon beside it.
“Take a seat,” said Henry. “Now, this friend of mine,” he fished a creased-up photograph out of his pocket and held it in front of Eddie’s face, “you’d tell me if you’d seen her, right?”
Eddie nodded, clearly doing his best to appear eager to help.
“That you telling me you’ve seen her? Or that you’d tell me if you had? It’s mighty confusing when you don’t use your words, Eddie. Help me out here.”
“I’d tell you,” Eddie said.
“But you know and you’re not telling me. So that right there’s a lie.”
Dale and Caleb came into the room. Caleb stayed by the door.
Dale, a stick-insect of a man, sank into a battered leather La-Z-Boy chair that swallowed him whole, crossed his hands behind his head and kicked out the foot rest. “You really wanna do what Henry says. Otherwise this ain’t gonna end well for you, friend. He’s been in a shitty mood all day, looking for someone to take it out on.”
“Shut up, Dale.”
“See what I mean?” said Dale.
“Take a good look at the photo, Eddie. Really rack your brain to remember her face and where you might have seen it before. We called her Elspeth, but turns out that ain’t her real name. Take your time.”
Eddie stared at the photograph.
“You see, Eddie,” continued Henry, “Elspeth here, she screwed our employer, and not in a good way. Now, we intend to have words. Nothing physical. We’re not monsters. I know you know what her real name is, and I know you know where she is. I also know that you’re gonna tell me. It’s only a matter of time. Thing is, there’s something you should know. I really don’t mind if you get hurt between my asking and your answering. In fact, if I’m being honest with you, I’d probably rather it went down with a little blood. There’s something immensely satisfying about that. So, how about we try this one last time, before the bleeding starts? Who is she, Eddie, and more to the point of the matter, where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. This is so unnecessary.”
“I ain’t lying. I don’t know.”
Henry suddenly brightened. “Hey, mind if I ask you something else, Eddie?”
Eddie didn’t. He was glad to be off the current subject. “No. Go right ahead.”
“You have a toolbox around here?” said Henry. He already knew the answer. He had spied it earlier.
“What?”
“A toolbox. You know, it’s a box you put your tools in. Hammers, pliers, that sort of stuff. You have one?”
“Why?”
“The door I busted. You don’t think I’m going to leave it like that, do you? What kind of man you take me for?”
Eddie didn’t like this, but he answered, “It’s through in the hall.”
Henry turned to the man in the doorway. “Fetch it for me, Caleb.”
“Gotcha,” Caleb said, and disappeared.
“Who is she, Eddie?” Henry asked again, picking up from where he had left off.
“I don’t know who she is, man—I swear to you. I swear. I don’t know.”
This time Henry didn’t respond.
Caleb returned a minute later with a rusty old toolbox. Inside were all manner of neglected items. He picked out the hammer.
“Get out of the chair, Eddie,” instructed Henry. “Kneel on the floor at my feet like a dog.”
“Thought you said you were going to fix my door,” said Eddie, although he hadn’t been dumb enough to believe it.
“I lied,” said Henry. “Now, get down there for me, boy.”
His eyes never leaving Henry, his hands trembling, Eddie did as he was told, getting down on all fours.
Henry stood over him, slowly shaking his head. “I suppose if I told you to bark like a dog you’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?”
Eddie nodded.
“But you still won’t tell me her name?”
“I don’t know who she is, I swear to God. I’d tell you if I knew.”
“I want to believe you, Eddie. I really do. Problem is, I know you’re a liar, so let’s see if we can’t help you make friends with the truth, shall we? Caleb, Dale, come over here and hold Eddie’s hands for me.”
Caleb and Dale crouched beside Eddie, each grabbing hold of one of his wrists while Henry rooted through the toolbox. When he found his prize, a couple of rusty six-inch nails, he hunkered down in front of Eddie. He rested the point of the nail against the ridge of bone that ran down the back of Eddie’s right hand from the middle finger to the wrist. “Her name, Eddie.”
Snot bubbles blew from Eddie’s nose as he whimpered and begged, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t answer.
Henry drove the nail through his outstretched hand, hammering the head again and again until five inches of rust red metal were buried in the floorboards, fixing Eddie’s hand to the floor.
Eddie’s screams were awful.
“What’s her name, Eddie?”
Now Eddie couldn’t talk even if he’d wanted to. He gasped and blubbered and choked, trying to form words where none would come.
Caleb and Dale struggled to keep him still as Henry hammered the second nail through his other hand. It took six blows to drive it deep into the floorboards. There was a surprising amount of blood.
“Rae—” Eddie couldn’t finish the word. He choked on air, tried to swallow.
“Spit it out, Eddie. What’s her name? Last time I’m asking nicely,” he said.
The kneeling man looked up at him. “Raelynn,” he finally managed. The name came out in a strangled rush. “Raelynn Cardiman.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Eddie? Now where do we find the lovely Raelynn?”
“I don’t know. I swear to God I don’t know. I’ve told you everything. Please. Please. Believe me.”
“I do believe you, Eddie,” Henry said.
He reached around for the man’s belt and started unbuckling it.
“Dale, you wanna do him first?”
“Oh, please, God,” said Eddie.
“Fine,” Henry said, standing straight again. He breathed deeply, just the once, steeling himself before swinging the hammer in a brutal arc. The flathead shattered the bones in Eddie’s face. Henry swung again and again, smashing the hammer into his teeth and temple and kept on swinging until there was no resistance. It took less than ten seconds to end the man’s life.
