Minutes to Burn by Gregg Hurwitz Read Free Book Online

for an eternity to the snow-dusted boulders. The rifle was positioned on his shoulder before he even completed the fall, his left eye on the scope.
    The lower vantage opened up his line of vision tremendously; he could see a good distance into the forest between the trunks of the trees. The light was magnificent, filtering through the needles in thin, twin-kling shafts.
    He didn’t doubt the Blackhawk; he knew from the Gulf that it could pull eight thousand pounds’ suspension. He and the .300 were child’s play.
    The crosshairs waited patiently, lined just above the peak of a small hill on which the sow should appear. It was a little over a quarter mile away from him.
    Savage counted under his breath.“Five...four...three...”The head of the grizzly appeared, and she looked ahead, rearing up to her full seven feet when she saw the helicopter. Savage spit the cigarette out the side of his mouth. “You’re early,” he growled, pulling the trigger.
    The bullet caught her right through the roaring mouth, but Savage couldn’t see the impact because the kick from the rifle sent him swinging back beneath the Blackhawk. He kept his eye on the scope though, checking for the slumped body on his backswing.
    He dropped the rifle, bearing its weight on the sling around his neck, and started climbing hand over hand up the rope. He got a leg on the skid, then pulled himself into the helicopter. Walters and the pilot stared at him, speechless.
    Savage lit another cigarette, snapped his lighter closed, and made it disappear into one of his many pockets. “Well,” he said, raising his head. “What the fuck’re we waiting for?”

CHAPTER 7
    24 DEC 07
    The forest-green Blazer flew up the freeway through the suburbs of Sacramento, country music blasting from the speakers. Justin was driving over ninety, singing along with the radio. He pulled off his T-shirt and grabbed his camouflage top from the back seat, the Blazer swerving as his attention lapsed. Calmly, Cameron reached over and steadied the wheel.
    “So we’ll make an appointment right when we get back?” she asked. “I want to get it over with.”
    “Absolutely.” Justin reached over with one hand and rubbed her neck. She put her hand over his and squeezed it once, impatiently, then pulled it off. Staring out the window, she watched the trees fly by along the side of the road.
    Brooks & Dunn came on the radio and Justin sang along, grabbing an unloaded pistol from the glove box and using it as a mike. At the high part of “My Maria,” he took his voice up into a yodel. Cameron knew he could see her smile in her reflection in the window. “A gun is not a toy,” she said.
    “See? You’re your old self already.”
    Justin exited the I-5 at Q Street and headed east. Cameron noticed the small cluster of soldiers as the Blazer rounded the corner at Ninth. The soldiers were hard to miss in their ripstop woodland cammies. Didn’t exactly blend into the stucco that fronted the New Center building.
    Justin slowed as the car neared the group, a smile creeping across his face. “Szabla, Tank—Holy shit, is that Tucker?”
    “Who’s that other guy?” Cameron asked, gesturing to Savage, who leaned against the building, apart from the others.
    “Don’t know. The guy must be fifty. Looks like Uncle Dicky with a hangover.”
    Savage leaned forward and shot a loogy at the P Street sign. It hit dead center and oozed down, dripping from the bottom like a yellow stalac-tite. Szabla was facing the building, shadowboxing and talking to herself under her breath, and Tank stood perfectly still, arms crossed over his massive chest.
    Justin parked, and he and Cameron got out of the car, heading for the others.
    Tucker noticed them first and waved self-consciously. With a strong, all-American jaw, clear blue eyes, and straight blond hair, Tucker looked like either a sunglasses model or an SS officer, depending on the severity of his expression. He had grown up in boys’ homes from