The Devil's Anvil (8 page)

‘Let’s have a closer look at the suit,’ I said, and Billie switched screens.

Viewed in real time, and with the knowledge in hindsight that the suited man and the smelly one were in cahoots, it was apparent that he too was taking too much interest in Billie as she worked unaware of him at her painting. He was only in the shop for a minute or so, but in that time I could see him weighing and calculating his options and coming to some sort of decision. He went outside, and a quick change of screens showed him walk away with his pal. Just before they disappeared from view, the suit pulled out a cell phone and began keying buttons.

‘Can you bag me something up?’ I asked.

‘What for?’

‘They were definitely watching you, Billie. Stands to reason they might still be watching now. They’ll have seen me come inside, but that isn’t unusual. If I stay much longer, it may arouse their suspicion and they’ll come to take a closer look. I’d rather they didn’t know I was here for you yet, so it’s best I look like a satisfied customer. I’ve probably been inside too long to have only been browsing, and will look more natural if I leave carrying something.’

‘I understand,’ Billie said. She flicked at the buttons and checked that neither of the men was out on the sidewalk now, spying inside. ‘It’s all clear.’

We moved into the gallery and while Billie bagged up a picture frame, and packed out the bag with some bubble wrap, I moved towards the front and peered out through the window. Pedestrians wandered by, cars passed, followed by a truck. Then a figure loomed in the doorway, and pushed inside. The bell tinkled, announcing the newcomer’s arrival. I didn’t flinch. I recognised the young woman as Billie’s assistant, Hilary. She was carrying paper cups of coffee, and a paper sack containing fast food. She smiled at me the way shop assistants do at strangers. I wondered if Billie had already told her about me, or if she’d kept things close to her chest, but I didn’t have time to explain. I returned to Billie, followed by the young woman, and collected my bag.

‘The two of you had best lock the door behind me,’ I said. ‘Eat out here in plain sight, OK. Make it look like any other normal day, just in case the spies return.’

‘Where will you be?’ There was a note of trepidation in Billie’s voice, eliciting a worried exclamation from a confused Hilary.

‘Nearby. Don’t worry. Just don’t let anyone inside before I come back.’

There were questions building in Hilary, who looked from Billie to me then back to her boss, but I hadn’t time for them. I took it that Billie hadn’t mentioned I was coming. She could explain everything while I was gone. I walked away, lugging my pretend purchases, and as I did so I pulled out one of the handguns supplied to me by Brandon Cooper and concealed it behind the bag, holding it tight alongside my thigh.

Billie followed. She flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’. I gave her one last reassuring nod, then went outside, and heard her throwing bolts. Immediately Hilary began asking questions, but I didn’t linger. I headed across the road to where I’d parked my rental car and got in, placing my SIG on the passenger seat and placing my faux purchases on top of it, then pulled out and drove north: I had to make things look as natural as possible. I’d spotted Smelly Man leaning against a street lamp at the intersection only a hundred yards or so ahead.

8

‘So they aren’t your guys, Cooper?’

‘No. I can assure you that there are no ATF agents in Hill End.’

‘Is yours the only law enforcement agency looking into this case?’

‘As far as I know.’

‘I could do with confirmation on that: wouldn’t like to hurt a cop or federal agent by accident.’

Cooper was somewhere noisy. I could hear a babble of voices, the thrum of traffic, sirens. He definitely wasn’t in sleepy Hill End; probably he was still in Seattle. I’d turned my rental car around and come back the opposite way, parking between a Toyota and a delivery truck that was being offloaded at a convenience store. From my vantage, I could see Smelly Man lounging against the street lamp, but didn’t have eyes on his partner, if indeed he was still out there. I kept viewing my mirrors as I spoke to Brandon Cooper on my cell, in case the suited man was more counter-surveillance-savvy than his pal and was checking me out. If he was out there, he must be further along the street to the south of Billie’s gallery, or maybe inside one of the adjacent properties.

‘I’ll do some digging and get back to you,’ Cooper went on. ‘Hunter . . . I think it’s best that you do
nothing
until I can check things out.’

‘You didn’t bring me in because I’m the type to sit on my thumbs.’

‘OK. I’ll rephrase that. Don’t
kill
anyone until I can check things out.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to shoot someone simply for having poor hygiene.’

Cooper had no idea what I was referring to, and I made him no wiser. He hung up and I placed the phone on the seat alongside the other items. Easier to get at when required as was my SIG. Not that I anticipated shooting anyone. Not yet. But I had the sense that the gun might prove an important motivator before long.

Even without Cooper confirming it, I didn’t believe that Smelly Man or his partner were federal agents. Neither could I be certain that they had anything to do with Procrylon Inc., but whom else could they be working for? Even if their earlier visits to the gallery had been misconstrued and they were simply star-struck art fanciers it didn’t explain why they were still hanging around hours later. They were surveilling the gallery, no question about it. The obvious conclusion was that either they were waiting to get a chance to corner Billie alone, or they were waiting for someone else to show up. Before I’d arrived, and while Hilary had done the coffee and doughnuts run, they could have caught Billie on her own, so my bet was on the second idea. They were watching for Richard Womack. It was possible that they meant no harm to Billie and that their earlier perusals had simply been to confirm that she was in the shop, or that she hadn’t smuggled Richard inside by some clandestine means. How long would they remain patient? They didn’t strike me as the most professional, particularly the smelly one – getting so close to their target while stinking as bad was an amateur’s mistake; it made him memorable and had led to their discovery. Amateurs aren’t usually known for their patience, and I figured that they wouldn’t wait long before they decided that they could achieve faster results by forcing Richard’s whereabouts from Billie. Whether that would come in the form of intimidation or physical assault, they weren’t going to get away with it.

I picked up my phone and checked the time. It was mid-afternoon in Hill End. Back in Tampa it would be early evening. Tuesday evenings Rink attended a mixed martial arts club, adding to his considerable karate skills by the inclusion of jujitsu grappling work and some boxing. He’d encouraged me to attend the sessions with him, but I struggled when it came to sport. My instincts wouldn’t allow me to tap out of a hold, and I feared that I’d end up with a broken arm or, worse, break the arm of some other poor sap. I respected Rink’s self-control, and understood my lack was a weakness in a training environment. But out here in the real world, it was my never-say-die attitude that often saved my arse, and training for sport worried me in case it was blunted by fair competition. Then again, sometimes it got me in trouble, and Rink’s calming influence was all that kept me out jail.

‘Yo, brother!’

‘You OK, Rink? You sound out of breath.’

‘I’m good. Just come outta the cage.’

‘I can hear you sweating from here.’

‘You know me, Hunter, I never break a sweat.’

‘Dream on, old man.’ The pleasantries over, I asked, ‘Are you free to talk?’

‘Just gimme a second.’ Over my cell I heard congratulations shared – Rink and his opponent extolling the other’s skills in ass-whuppery – and Rink moved away from the fighting area to a quiet corner. ‘So what’s the deal: anything in Cooper’s story?’

‘I’m looking at a guy casing out Billie Womack as we speak.’

‘Good guy or bad?’

‘Cooper’s checking, but I’m going with bad.’

I told him how the stinking man and his suited partner had both been in the gallery earlier, and how I’d spotted Smelly again outside. ‘I’m guessing the guy doesn’t have some sort of fungal complaint. Before coming here, I think he was holed up near Billie’s place in the hills, maybe hiding out in the woods while keeping an eye on her, using the fallen leaves to camouflage the colour of his clothing.’

‘Or he could live in an apartment with a rising damp problem,’ Rink said.

‘Whatever. He’s taking too much interest in Billie for it to be a good reason.’

‘You said she’s kinda famous among those arty-farty types . . .’

‘Already considered and discarded that idea.’

‘Not like you to jump to conclusions, brother.’ His tone said otherwise.

‘I’ve grown to trust my instincts.’

‘So you want me up there?’

‘That goes without saying. How soon can you get here?’

‘Tomorrow soon enough?’

‘It’ll have to do.’ Earlier I’d given Rink the details of Billie’s home address, but added the location of her gallery now. I wondered if it was safer to keep Billie in town for the duration rather than go back to her farm. In town there was less chance that her watchers would make a move on her, therefore it was a safer location. But to find out what their interest in her was I required them to act, and that meant allowing them to follow her home. Also, we had to make sure that her behaviour and habits didn’t obviously change: her watchers might deduce she had something to hide and step up their operation. ‘We’ll be at Billie’s farm. Will you come straight there?’

‘Will do, brother. You want me to bring Harvey?’

Harvey Lucas was a buddy of ours based in Little Rock, Arkansas. He’d joined us on a few previous jobs where discretion was the order of the day, and the possibility of violence was likely. He’d proved a good man to have at our sides, plus if anyone could research our enemies it was Harvey. But I felt a word of caution whisper its way through my mind. ‘Not yet. Cooper’s bankrolling this job and hasn’t budgeted for three. In fact with us he’s getting a two-for-one deal . . . are you happy coming all the way here for little payback?’

‘A little’s better than nothing, brother. Things are kinda slow at this end. We’ve still got that contract with Jerry Redmond. It’s unlikely it will get hit again, but he wants his premises covered this weekend. I’ve got Mack and Velasquez on that. I’d just be sitting here contemplating my navel, and you know that’s not good for any narcissist’s sense of importance, least of all mine.’

‘Maybe I can get Cooper to throw a bit more cash our way. He knows as well as we do that a close protection detail takes more than one man.’

‘Unless that was his thinking all along,’ Rink said.

‘You don’t trust him?’

‘Do you?’

I said nothing.

‘I’ll go see if I can book a standby flight now,’ Rink said. ‘Should be with you early tomorrow afternoon. Don’t go getting yourself or Billie killed in the meantime.’

‘I’ll try.’

We hung up, and I made a cursory check of my mirrors. No man in a suit lurked nearby. I sought the smelly man and saw him delve in a pocket of his coat and pull out a cell phone. Exhaling, I sank back in my seat as I focused on him. Not for the first time during my career I wished I’d learned to lip-read. Not that it would have helped because the guy turned his back and began a slow walk up the road, heading towards Billie’s gallery, albeit still on the opposite sidewalk. I picked up my SIG and put it in my jacket pocket, before getting out the car and locking it with the fob. I headed in the same direction, using the delivery truck for cover. I paused alongside the cab, and saw the man come to a halt directly opposite the gallery. He was totally unaware of my scrutiny, his counter-surveillance as crappy as his choice in inconspicuous clothing. Who chooses a red coat when they wish to blend with their surroundings?

The watcher stood out like a beacon; he moved from foot to foot as he tried to get a view through the front window of Billie’s shop. Even a few of the tourists passing by glanced at him, he was so obvious. His actions gave me pause: was he acting deliberately to draw me out from cover? I checked for his suited pal, or anyone else taking any interest in me. No one stood out. I crossed the street and approached the man. The breeze was blowing away from him, so I didn’t catch a whiff of his scent until I was within a couple of feet. Billie had been correct: he stank. It was a mixture of mildew and rotting wood and I considered again the possibility he’d been hiding in the forest near her farm. He was so intent on peeking inside the gallery he was unaware of my presence. I stood a few feet behind him, listening to him as he spoke on his cell.