Search and Destroy (23 page)

“Fascinating, but you still haven’t told me anything about
you
,” Andrea admonished him. Getting information out of Danny was like trying to get a loan out of her bank manager.

Clay turned in his seat, a mischievous look on his weathered face. “Forget it, honey, talking to him is too much like hard work. I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

Danny tried to look stern. “You better tend to your own knittin’ there, Yankee.”

Clay grinned at his brother’s attempt at a Texas accent. Then he fixed Andrea with a serious expression. “Did he tell you that he’s named after Daniel Boone, the old frontiersman? You know, the guy with the coonskin cap?”

Danny closed his eyes in mock annoyance. “Did I tell you that Clay got his name because he was born in Clay County, Texas? Lucky you weren’t born in Dildo, Newfoundland. Imagine that on the first day of a new school: here’s my little Daniel and my big Dildo.”

Clay burst into laughter, and Andrea joined in, deep stomach-aching guffaws. Again she found herself feeling conflicted. Laughing like a loon while death trailed behind her like an angry bloodhound.
But surely it’s better to laugh
, she thought.

“Brightwell.”

“It’s me, Stewart.”

“I didn’t recognise the number.”

“Burner. Are you still in Atlanta?”

“Yes, why?”

“I need you to do some clean-up, the matter we discussed a couple of days ago.”

“I thought that was being handled?”

“It was, but questions are being asked. Banks thinks they’ll be asking very specific questions.”

“I see. You want me to make sure I’m the one to ask those questions.”

“Yes. And I want to watch.”

As they traced their way through the narrow network of tree-lined streets Andrea was intrigued by the uniformity of the pastel-coloured houses that flanked either side of the road. They all shared a common look, the porches, window shutters and verandas all decorated with fretwork.

“Why do all of the houses have metal roofs?” Andrea asked Garnett.

“Well spotted.”

“I can be observant when I want to be.”

“Many moons ago we had a big fire on the island, terrible, really. It got so bad that the flames were leaping from roof to roof. So after that a law was passed that every roof has to be made of metal. Makes them fireproof.”

Clay held up a finger. “But the rest of the house is still made from wood.”

“Yes.”

“Then wouldn’t the fire still spread anyway?”

“I didn’t make the law, just telling our guest about it, that’s all.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. The powers that be have to be seen to be doing something to make the public feel safer,” offered Andrea.

“And all of the properties on Key West have to be maintained and restored to their original style,” Garnett added. “No mock Tudors getting erected around here.”

Garnett looked over his shoulder at Danny. “Shit, I forgot you were back there, sittin’ all quiet like.”

“I’m still here, all right. I’m just listening and taking in the sights while I can.”

Andrea looked back at the gingerbread houses. “Well I like it. It’s lovely down here.”

“Lovely,” said Garnett in a posh English accent. “That’s such a British word.”

“Gee, but don’t they look swell. Cuter than a spring posy,” replied Andrea in a voice that belonged to a sitcom from the sixties.

Garnett elbowed Clay’s arm. “I love this girl—she’s wild.”

Danny smiled absently at the banter. Andrea followed his gaze to the ramshackle wall that formed the perimeter of a large manor house. She pointed. “What’s that?”

“That’s the Hemingway House,” said Garnett.

“Looks like a six-year-old built that wall with Lego and Silly Putty.”

“The story is that good old Ernest and his drinking buddies built that one afternoon while under the effect of one too many whiskeys.” Garnett tipped an imaginary drink back.

“I could believe that. There isn’t a single straight line in the whole wall. It looks ready to fall down,” said Danny.

“Nah, it’s pretty solid—and the drinking story is probably just that. It’s survived a couple of hurricanes and some idiot drove a motorbike into it going full tilt a year or so back. And it’s still standing.”

“Maybe looks can be deceiving after all.”

Clay turned and winked at his brother. “You know that’s true. There are times when you look halfway intelligent.”

“Is it much further to your house?” asked Danny.

“Just two blocks over. Why?” replied Garnett.

“Because when we get there, I’m going to have to kick his arse.”

Clay shook his head. “I don’t recognise that one. Gandhi?”

“Moe from the Three Stooges…”

“Ah, wise words.” Clay gave his best “Nyuck, nyuck,” then playfully speared two fingers towards Danny’s eyes. Danny caught the opened fingers on the edge of his raised hand in true Stooges style.

“How the hell did a beauty like you get caught up with these two reprobates?” asked Garnett.

“Some girls have all the luck, I suppose.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Wait till you meet my wife, Edith—she knows all about that.”

The house sat at the opposite end of the island from the airfield but was still a relatively short journey. Lights shone from every window of the pastel pink dwelling, which had stylised fish fretted into its woodwork.

They got out of the car and headed towards the house. Andrea looked down. “Are these yours?” she said, pointing at the three small chickens that were busy picking in the dirt.

Garnett shook his head. “They don’t belong to anyone. Those are the original free-range birds, livin’ free and wild. They’re all over Key West, help keep the streets clean. They’re nature’s garbage collectors. To tell the truth, I hardly notice them any more.”

“Wild chickens in the middle of a town—that’s weird. They’d get stolen and eaten in most places I’ve ever been to.”

Garnett shrugged as he opened the front door to his house. “If you think our chickens are weird wait till you see our cats.”

“Cats?”

Garnett led them into a long hallway that effectively divided the house in two. “It’s another Hemingway story, I’m afraid. There are over sixty cats around here all descended from Ernest’s cat Snowball.”

Andrea raised her eyebrows. “How can you tell?”

“Snowball the cat had thumbs. A lot of her relatives have thumbs and extra toes too.”

Andrea laughed despite trying to hold it in. “You must think I came down in the last shower. Cats don’t have thumbs. Not even in the Conch Republic.”

“Wait and see.”

Andrea looked at Danny but he too shrugged. “Don’t ask me. But it sounds a little like the stories of wild haggis running around the mountains of Scotland to me.”

Garnett shook his head in mock sadness. “Wait and see,” he said again. Then in a loud voice, “Hi honey, I’m home.”

A dark figure stepped into the doorway at the rear of the hallway. “And it’s about time too!”

Edith strode towards them with athletic grace. She wore black Lycra leggings with a cropped top that left her toned mid-section open to view. Although she didn’t offer to shake hands, the warm smile that she gave her guests made Andrea feel instantly at ease. “Come on in. Garnett baby, show these folks into the parlour. Can I get you all a drink?”

“Edie makes the best mojito ever. Or we’ve got beer: Dos Equis, the good stuff.”

Clay stepped towards his host. “Beer sounds good to me. Can I help carry them?”

Edith looked at the man taking up most of the hallway. “Sure, come on through to the kitchen.”

“We can’t thank you enough for your hospitality. I mean that. We would have been more than happy booked into a hotel,” said Danny.

“We’re glad to have you. It’s nice to meet some people who don’t smell of jet fuel and cigars. And I might get some decent conversation that doesn’t involve air-speeds or cargo weights.” She winked at her husband playfully.

“Hush now girl, you know that kind of talk gets you all hot and steamy,” Garnett countered.

“Dream on fly-boy. Come on Clay, let’s see about those beers.”

* * *

As Danny entered what Edith had called the parlour, he breathed a small sigh of relief. His gratitude was genuine. He was doubtful that Keys hotels would accept payment in cash only. That would mean swiping a credit card. The Keys had a reputation of being very laid back, yet so many things had changed since 9/11. Every scrap of information could now be logged on some innocuous database, and databases could easily be searched. It was always best to err on the side of caution when dealing with men armed and more than willing to end you. Credit card transactions were easily flagged and traced in a few keystrokes, if you had the right connections. He shuddered to think what information a private military contractor with money to burn could glean. And it was safe to assume that the operatives knew Clay’s identity in addition to Andrea’s, now that he’d been identified in those news reports in Nevada.

While drinking the delicious golden Mexican beer, conversation remained light and jocular. Clay and Garnett exchanged tales of bravado and reckless behaviour from their younger years, Andrea and Edith smiling and laughing at the recounted idiocy. Danny sat quiet for most of the banter, tuning out the voices as he weighed various options and possible outcomes. He would have preferred to sit outside, alone, but certainly didn’t want to appear ungrateful to Garnett and Edith for their hospitality.

After drinking two beers, Edith made her way to the kitchen, promising to return with some “real food like my mama used to make”. She politely refused any help from her guests. Twenty minutes later she called them through to the dining area.

The middle of the room was dominated by an oval table, on which was a serving platter laden with homemade cheeseburgers. A large bowl filled with mixed green salad sat next to it, flanked by two smaller bowls, one heaped with potato salad the other with crispy onion rings. After brief encouragement from Edith, food was scooped, ladled and grabbed.

Clay devoured one of the large onion rings with gusto. “These are great. How do you make a simple thing taste so good?”

Edith sat back in her chair. “It’s all in the batter. A little bit of beer, a lot of pepper, paprika and a squirt or two of Tabasco sauce.”

“Well I’m jealous as hell. You look like a supermodel and cook like a professional chef.” It sounded like Andrea was only half joking.

After the food had been eaten, more Dos Equis was served. Andrea and Clay insisted on clearing up. Once the dishes, plates and glasses had been washed and put away Edith thanked her guests then said goodnight. She didn’t bother asking Garnett if he was joining her. She was clearly well accustomed to sleeping alone when her husband had business. Garnett kissed her and playfully patted her behind as she left the room.

Garnett leaned back in his chair. “So, time to tell me why you fellas are on the run with this lovely lady. What happened in Vegas that meant you had to make a quick getaway?”

Danny let Clay do the talking. Garnett seemed to take it in his stride, only occasionally interrupting to ask clarifying questions. When Clay had finished he nodded thoughtfully. “So, what’s your next move?”

“I’ve been thinking,” said Danny.

“Uh oh…”

Andrea nudged Clay then placed her index finger against her pursed lips. This elicited a wry smile from the Texan.

Danny’s next comment made Andrea pale momentarily. “We have to assume that the Trident team or someone like them
will
find us sooner or later. So we need to have a strike-back strategy before that happens. The psycho in the video, Strathclyde, has the most to lose. But also the British government in general would be severely damaged. With all the shit that’s come out over the last few years, the last thing that they would want is a scandal of this magnitude.”

Garnett looked into the top of his bottle as if some secret was hidden within. “Why don’t you just email the video and pictures to every news channel we can think of? Fox News and CNN would kill for something like this. I don’t think they would be too bothered about upsetting some pencil-necked pervert in the UK. Once it’s out there this asshole would be toast.”

“That was my first impulse as well, but we have to be sure that it would be taken seriously. There’s so much fake footage floating around on the Internet it may well be treated as a hoax.”

Andrea shook her head. “Once they watch it they’ll know it’s not faked. It’s… horrible.”

“But so-called torture-porn was really big in the movies for a while. You know,
Hostel
and
Saw
,” Danny pointed out. He knew the authenticity of the footage would be called into question, and despite Garnett’s opinions on the cut-throat nature of the news networks, they would not launch an attack against a foreign politician without conferring with their British contacts first.

“Are you one hundred per cent sure that the guy in the video is the same one in the photographs?” asked Garnett.

“Pretty damned sure,” Danny replied. “I can show you if you want to see. I’ll warn you, though, it’s not pleasant viewing.”

“Okay.”

Andrea handed the laptop to Danny with the proviso: “I don’t want to see it again.”

“We could go for a walk into the town if you want. The original Sloppy Joe’s is only ten minutes away,” offered Clay. “Would it be a problem if we came back a bit late?”

Garnett waved them away. “Have at it. Captain Tony’s and the Lazy Gecko are worth a visit as well. I’ll leave the door unlocked. We’ll probably still be up and at it anyway.”

Once Andrea and Clay had left the house Danny powered up the laptop, inserted the flash drive into one of the USB ports and activated the media player. He double clicked the video file icon.

Garnett’s expression betrayed nothing as he watched the man in the mask slowly taunt then eviscerate the captive woman. Only after the whole film had played through did he speak. “So how did you identify the man? The only part of his face you can see clearly are those damned eyes.”

Danny moved the progress button back to approximately halfway through the footage. After less than ten seconds he hit pause. “See those three moles on his right shoulder and the scar down his back? Well, now look at this.”