The springs on the bed creaked as the body on top of it moved suddenly, and Keo found himself wishing the pistol in his hand had a hammer so he could do the oh-so-dramatic click! like in the movies. He briefly thought about jerking back the gun’s slide to achieve the same drama, but that would have just ejected a perfectly good bullet.
Instead, he had to make do with holding the gun at waist level and aiming forward at the figure sitting up in front of him, whipping a wool blanket sideways. From the looks of it, the man had fallen asleep while still wearing his uniform — the familiar tan color topped with a red collar and the white sun emblems stitched along the sides.
The man swung his legs off the cot and stared across the narrow space at Keo while trying to blink sleep from his eyes. After what seemed like forever, he finally said, “Are you sure you have the right room, son?”
Keo nodded. “Pretty sure.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have an inside man.”
“Ah.”
Keo didn’t know why he didn’t just pull the trigger right then and there. The man wasn’t even armed, so it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
So do it and get it over with. That’s what you came here to do, isn’t it? So get it over with already. Maybe you can still catch up to Lara and the Trident afterward…
Except he didn’t. Not yet.
The truth was, the whole thing threw him for a loop and Keo had to readjust on the fly. It wasn’t how he had pictured any of this going down at all, not even close. It didn’t help that the man in front of him looked nothing like how Keo had imagined him. For one thing, he was missing horns and hooves and a tail with a long pointy arrow at the end. His skin was more tanned than it was a shade of devil red, and he leaned more toward grandfatherly than mass murderer or war criminal.
The man was in his fifties, with brown hair that looked almost blond against the slightly yellow ceiling light, and looked fit enough to be dangerous. In so many ways, Keo was reminded of Pollard, another ex-military officer who had made Keo’s life difficult. Just thinking about the other man made the scar along the side of Keo’s face tingle.
He didn’t need to see the name Mercer stenciled across the man’s shirt to know who he was pointing a gun at. He was in the right room, all right; there was no question about that. Keo could read every line on the grizzled face, and even heavy with sleep there was intelligence and a certain (madness?) something about the eyes. Keo imagined the cogs spinning behind the worry lines that crisscrossed the man’s forehead, processing information and coming up with and discarding scenarios, even as the man gazed back at him.
“I don’t recognize you,” Mercer finally said.
“You know everyone on the island?” Keo asked.
“Yes.” He stared at the gun in Keo’s hand for a brief second, then perhaps deciding there was nothing he could do about it, refocused on Keo’s face. “At least tell me your name, son.”
I’m not your fucking son, asshole, Keo thought but didn’t say. Even the slightest bit of annoyance might give Mercer something to use against him.
He willed himself to stay calm before answering, “Keo.”
“Interesting name.”
“It gets me free drinks in the bars.”
“Does it really?”
“Nah.”
If Mercer was the least bit amused by that, it didn’t show on his face. “So what’s this all about, Keo?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
He sighed tiredly. “Maybe if you gave me some hints. Then again, it is the middle of the night, and I’m not exactly at my best.”
“Your mom ever told you never to sleep in your clothes?”
“Yes, but sleep is a precious commodity these days. You take it when it comes.” He paused, then, “I give up.”
“Already?”
“I’m very tired. Why don’t you just tell me why there’s a stranger with a gun pointed at me in my own quarters, and we’ll move on from there.”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Keo said, and pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and crumpled it into a ball before tossing it over.
Mercer caught it and opened it before taking a few seconds to straighten the sheet over one knee, then looked down at it. Keo thought the man might have been stalling for time, but he dismissed it. Mercer was simply letting him know that he would not be rushed, even with a gun pointed at him.
“I hear Texas frowns on littering,” Keo said. “They even have an official motto and everything.”
Mercer ignored him and laid the piece of paper on the cot next to him before looking back at Keo. “I take it you’re not here to enlist.”
“’Fraid not, boss.” Keo gestured with the Sig Sauer. “But I am here to join the bullets in this gun with your brain.”
Mercer’s mouth curved into a slight smile.
“Her name was Jordan,” Keo said.
“Was it?” Mercer said.
“Your men killed her. She died in my arms.”
“She was a collaborator.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. She was fighting them. We both were.”
“Then I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes,” Mercer said. “But mistakes happen in war.”
“Collateral damage?”
“That’s right.” He narrowed his eyes at Keo. “I can tell you know a thing or two about that. But you’re not a soldier.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes. I can always tell just by looking at someone if they’re ex-military. It’s in their eyes, on their face, even in the way they stand or hold a gun. You know the Army, but you were never one of us. My guess is, someone you knew was. A parent, maybe. Or siblings. You grew up around the Army and maybe that’s why you steered clear of it, though in many ways you simply joined another Army, one with less strict…guidelines.”
“Keep going…”
“You’re a man of violence, with a long history of blood on his hands.”
“You got all that just from looking at me, huh?”
“I’m a fast study. And I’ve always been good at reading people.”
“What else do you see?”
“I don’t know how you got in here, but you don’t expect to leave alive. Not that you’re too worried about it. In fact, you’ve already accepted that things will end here for you, so long as you can take me with you.”
“Not bad.”
Mercer shrugged. “I have my moments.”
“You should go on the road. Become a carnie.”
“Not quite the future I had in mind,” Mercer said, and stood up.
Keo watched the older man walk the short distance to the canteen sitting on the nightstand. He passed the gun belt hanging on the wall but never looked at it. Mercer opened the cap and took a slow, purposeful drink.
“So this is personal,” Mercer said, lowering the canteen and brushing his lips with the back of a shirt sleeve. “Simple bloodthirsty revenge?”