No Time to Bury Them by Mark C. Eddy

Author:Mark C. Eddy [Eddy, Mark C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781771802239
Publisher: Iguana Books
Published: 2017-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

The ambushers stood beside the ravine’s edge. Below them lay a twist of wood and pounded meat. Yelping came from that pile. No one in Azarov’s party could say if the sounds were made by men or dogs.

“How the hell do we get down to them?” said Lottery.

“We don’t,” Azarov said. “We want them dead, and they are working on that now.”

The ambush went worse than expected. He and his men had sabotaged the bridge by cutting its logs and letting the falling snow cover their tracks and handiwork. They had hoped to kill or trap all of their prey, but some had escaped across the now-broken bridge before its collapse. Even worse, Azarov’s party was now trapped on the ravine’s opposite side.

He sighed, and looked on the bright side. He and his men had been blessed with a snowfall. As well, they had kept their own dogs out of sight and quiet long enough to draw the Mounties into an ambush. When he saw some of the Mounties’ dogs turning and barking, Azarov thought for certain that his party would be detected, but they hadn’t been. What’s more, only one of his men had been killed in the shooting.

Azarov watched Lang and wondered if the corrupt Mountie knew any of the police that he just helped to ambush.

When asked, Lang said, “That’s Walter Sands over there. I worked with him a couple of times, but that’s it.” Lang gestured to Trapper’s shredded body. “That one over there, I met him but never bothered to learn his name. And God knows who is down there at the bottom of that mess.”

Lang leaned over the ravine’s edge, apparently looking for a familiar face. “I never really got a look at any of the ones who got away. Except for Richard Carol. He must be their leader.”

“Inspector Richard Carol?” Azarov said.

“Oh, you know him?”

“I met him once. Not very impressive. If he is their leader, then we won’t have any trouble finishing this now.”

Lang snorted. Azarov wondered if he meant anything by it, or if he only wanted to annoy Azarov. He watched Lang to give an indication, but there was none. Lang only kept peering into the ravine. He felt his disgust for Lang tremble outwards from his core and into his hands, and he had the sudden urge to push the man and add him to the pile of bodies below. Azarov had heard stories about Lang from other corrupt Mounties. Apparently, Lang had disgraced himself with some unspeakable poor conduct in British Columbia and was sent to the Yukon as a punishment. If it were not for his family’s high status and charitable donations in the west, he would have been thrown out of the service.

Azarov turned his attention away from Lang and looked across the ravine. The heavy snow was blanketing the tree branches, making it difficult to see through the woods. The white branches flared red with specks of blood. The Mounties were bleeding.

“They’re hurt,” Lottery said.

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