A Quiet Man (Victor Book 9)

by Tom Wood

  Given how well McAllan slept, it came as a surprise to him to wake up in the middle of the night.

  He jerked awake from a nightmare, feeling like there was a fat worm or cockroach crawling or slithering over his face, which he brushed off in a frantic, swiping gesture.

  He panted. He sweated. He put a palm to his chest. It took a few seconds before he was sure he wasn’t having a heart attack.

  Not like him to have a nightmare.

  Not at all.

  It still felt as if something was on his face, and he rubbed at his cheek to scrub away the sensation.

  It worked, but what was that smell?

  As he brought his fingers down from his cheek he detected an unpleasant, meaty scent.

  He held his fingertips to his nose, thinking he must be mistaken.

  He was not mistaken.

  ‘What the … ?’

  He fumbled in the dark for the lamp, thumbed it on and saw blood on his fingertips.

  ‘I’m going to ask you four questions,’ the man standing over him said.

  McAllan gasped. He froze. His pulse spiked. He was naked in bed, pinned in place by a thick duvet and comforter. Standing next to the bed was the man pretending to be Wilson Murdoch. The fisherman.

  Only he didn’t seem like the fisherman one little bit. Now, he looked ruthless and terrifying, his eyes empty of anything approaching humanity.

  The fisherman held a brown paper bag in one hand.

  What was inside? A knife? A gun?

  McAllan had never been so scared in his life. He thought of his men, his dog, his alarms. None had stopped the fisherman.

  ‘How many men did you hire?’

  McAllan, terrified, told the truth: ‘Three.’

  ‘Are you going to hire any more?’

  McAllan shook his head.

  ‘You need to say it.’

  ‘I … I … won’t hire any more men.’

  The fisherman said, ‘Do you know anything, anything at all, about the disappearance of Joshua and his mother?’

  ‘I don’t,’ McAllan said. ‘I swear it. I swear it on my dead wife’s name, on my daughter’s life.’

  ‘Then get the list of quarry personnel to Fendy. Stop dragging your feet.’

  McAllan swallowed. ‘Okay. First thing in the morning. I promise.’

  ‘Final question,’ the fisherman said. ‘Do you ever want to see me again?’

  McAllan was shaking by now and his parched mouth made it hard to speak. But he did because he knew his life depended on it.

  ‘No,’ he managed. ‘I never want to see you again.’

  The fisherman nodded as if pleased but his expression showed nothing. McAllan expected death at any moment.

  The paper bag rustled as the fisherman lifted it up and emptied the contents over McAllan.

  He felt the gentle pattering impacts through the duvet and recoiled in horror while the fisherman backed out of the room.

  McAllan was too disgusted, too scared, to count them, but there were twenty-nine in total.

  Fingers.

  Six thumbs, six index fingers, six middle fingers, six ring fingers, but five little fingers. Some broken first. Hacked off or sawn off, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

  He screamed.

  Later, his men would find the thirtieth finger between the mattress and headboard where it had ended up after McAllan had swiped it from his waking face.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  The house was quiet. The whole neighbourhood was quiet. The night was cold and windows were dark. No music was playing loud. No one was walking at this hour. Victor parked his truck around the corner, on a perpendicular street. His were the only footsteps on the pavements. His was the only shadow beneath the moon.

  The elderly couple were not on their porch, of course. No lights were on in their windows. Victor imagined they had been in bed for hours. They would be waking up at about the same time he would be laying down his head, he expected.

  The back door to Michelle’s house squeaked a little as he opened it, but the sound would not travel far. If anyone could hear it then they were close enough to see him. He locked the door behind him.

  He kept the lights off and stood in the kitchen until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The air had a faint unpleasant smell from the soured milk in the cereal bowls.

  Protocol meant he explored the entire house even though he knew it was empty of threats. He had been inside twice before, knew the exact layout, and found that nothing had changed, as he had expected.

  He returned to the kitchen to drink water and fix some cereal with the last of the fresh milk from the refrigerator. He placed a few dollars down on the countertop to cover the cost. Otherwise, it was stealing.

  Michelle and Joshua had been gone for over two days now.

  It wasn’t time for Victor to sleep just yet – still prime attacking time for any enemies – but he headed upstairs because it decreased the chances of any neighbours or passers-by noticing him inside the supposedly empty house.

  The only books he had seen were in Joshua’s room. So it was there that Victor sat on the floor to use a sliver of moonlight to read about the many adventures of a team of special needs children who saved the world from evil corporations, mythical monsters and aliens over several short novels. In every chapter a piece of artwork illustrated the dramatic events that had just occurred. The prose was pleasant, and the stories had a relentless pace with a few surprises that even a voracious reader like Victor failed to spot. He imagined Joshua was a big fan. The cracked spines and frayed jackets suggested the books were read either by him or to him with some frequency.

  After Victor had finished the series, which took a little under four hours, he lay on the floor with his head resting on his arm to go to sleep. He didn’t want to use either Joshua’s or Michelle’s beds; it seemed impolite.

  Within seconds of closing his eyes, they opened again.

  A noise.

  So quiet and faint he wasn’t sure at first if he had imagined it.

  But he never imagined such things.

  The back door. The little squeak. Joshua’s room lay over the kitchen.

  Victor pressed his ear to the floor and listened hard. He heard the little squeak a second time.

  The back door had opened and now it was closed.

  Someone was inside the house.

  Victor sat up, then stood. He was already dressed and his shoes were meant for the outdoors, so he kept his movements slow and gentle. By now he knew where all the creaky floorboards were located and could avoid them as he left the room and stepped out on to the landing until he reached the top of the stairs. Victor stopped with his back against the wall, listening.

  Now he heard them. They weren’t trying to be as quiet as him, so they thought the house was empty. They didn’t know he was here.

  Dim red light glowed from the floor below. Red because that wavelength of light didn’t travel as far as other colours. Which meant red light was only useful for close up, but there was far less chance of the light giving the user away. Red light also wouldn’t impede natural night vision.

  At first, he thought there was just one, until he heard a whispered voice.

  ‘Essentials only.’

  And a second.

  ‘Affirmative.’

  Victor waited. There was little else he could do at this point. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, so it wasn’t smart to act. He kept listening, hearing their footsteps beneath, drawers opening, a zipper being fastened or unfastened.

  They were downstairs now, but they would be coming up.

  The fact that they hadn’t already told Victor they didn’t think mother and son were home. They hadn’t expected to find them here, but they were here anyway.

  They were searching.

  For something, not someone.

  Within a minute he had identified four separate sets of noise. Four people downstairs. He had heard two male voices but he couldn’t be sure about the other
two.

  ‘We’re through down here,’ one said.

  Victor backed away from the staircase. There were limited options: the master bedroom, Joshua’s room, a box room, a bathroom and an attic. The attic was no good because there was no way to pull down the hatch and the stepladder without making noise, and the bathroom and the box room were both too small to offer any hiding places. Which left the two bedrooms. Joshua’s was smaller, yet if the four people were looking for something it made more sense it would be located in Michelle’s room, not her son’s.

  The closet in Joshua’s room was full of toys, so Victor slid under the bed on his back. It was a child’s bed and not long enough for his height so he had to rotate his legs and bring up his knees. There was enough room to do so but only after he kicked out a large stuffed toy that had been stored beneath the bed.

  He lay still, breathing slow, deep breaths. The greatest danger in hiding under a bed was dust and its potential to induce sneezing, but Michelle kept a fastidious home.

  The four had spent almost two minutes downstairs and they did the same upstairs. Victor heard them ascend the staircase and then spread out, each checking a different room. Dim red light framed the door to Joshua’s room.

  The door eased open and the glow from a flashlight bathed the room red. A figure stood in the open doorway for a long moment.

  Victor couldn’t see the figure from his position under the bed, but he remained calm because he was always calm.

  The figure stepped inside the room. Victor saw tactical boots and trousers, coloured red by the flashlight. Those boots approached the bed.

  They were so close Victor could see the scuff marks on the toes even in the darkness.

  The mattress above his head depressed a little. He heard the tiny squeak of springs inside it.

  The figure had placed something on to the bed.

  Victor watched as the boots turned around and he heard drawers opening. The mattress trembled above him, responding to more weight being applied to it, and he pictured the figure throwing clothes and perhaps toys on to the bed, into the bag already set down to receive them.

  Now Victor understood.

  The four were here to collect Joshua’s and Michelle’s personal effects.

  He waited, quiet and calm, while the figure finished up in Joshua’s room, zipped up the bag and left, taking the red glow away and easing the door shut.

  ‘All done,’ a voice said in the hallway.

  Footsteps descended the stairs. Victor rolled his head to one side so his ear was close to the floor. He listened for the back door opening and closing again.

  He continued to lie beneath the bed because an efficient crew like this would have other people outside, for protection and surveillance. Victor wanted to go to a window to gather more intel but it was too great a risk.

  He waited a further ten minutes to make sure they had plenty of time to leave the area and to make sure they weren’t coming back.

  He slid out from under the bed and stood. The drawers had been closed again, he noticed. In Michelle’s room too, he found. Clothes had gone, as were toothbrushes, cosmetics and luggage.

  The crew had collected up Michelle’s and Joshua’s belongings to make it appear they had done so themselves. It was to support a narrative: that the mother and son had left of their own free will.

  Victor headed down the stairs, unsure what to do next but feeling a growing sense of urgency.

  From the darkness, a voice said, ‘Strange place to catch a fisherman.’

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Victor recognised the voice straight away. It came from the near corner of the room the staircase opened up into, but that corner was set back behind the foot of the stairs. Impossible to see into until further into the room and looking back.

  A blind spot.

  ‘You’re a patient man,’ Victor said, facing him.

  ‘Had you waited any longer I might have begun doubting myself,’ Garrett said with a smugness to his tone. ‘But I had to even the score from earlier.’

  The stuffed toy, Victor realised.

  Out of place on the floor of Joshua’s room after being kicked out from beneath the bed.

  Michelle kept a fastidious home. Garrett had noticed, or already knew. Of course he knew.

  He wore similar clothes to those he had been wearing earlier but these were closer-fitting, more tactical. He wore gloves, a rolled-up ski mask, and had a gun in his hand, pointing at Victor. A compact automatic. Suppressor.

  Garrett said, ‘I thought you were leaving town.’

  Victor said, ‘I thought you were hunting.’

  ‘It was almost the truth,’ Garrett said. ‘It says I’m a bounty hunter on my business card.’

  Not the husband, but working for him.

  ‘Why do I get the impression that you do a lot more than simply go after those who skip bail?’

  Garrett shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re just of a suspicious mindset. Although, that doesn’t mean you’re necessarily wrong about me. Am I wrong about you, I wonder? Why do I get the impression you do a lot more than just fish?’

  Victor remained silent.

  ‘What are you doing in this house?’ Garrett asked. ‘You’re no more an invited guest than I am.’

  ‘I needed somewhere to sleep.’

  Garrett smirked in the darkness. ‘Of all the houses in all the world … ’

  ‘I’m looking for Michelle and Joshua,’ he explained. ‘They’re missing.’

  ‘I know they are,’ Garrett said. ‘I find that quite interesting.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They go missing right before I show up. Every other day they’re going about their business. Michelle is working at the motel and Josh is doing whatever kids do. Then, out of nowhere, they vanish. Right at the very best moment for them. That’s beyond lucky. That’s lottery-level divine intervention luck.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ Victor said. ‘I spooked Michelle. She thought I was you.’

  ‘How does that work? She thought you were me?’

  Victor nodded. ‘She thought I was here to take her and Joshua away. That’s why they’re missing. They’ve gone into hiding.’

  Garrett sighed. ‘Well, thank you very much for making my job harder than it needs to be. This was a one-day gig on paper. Perhaps the most profitable single day I ever had. Except it’s not because I have to remain in this backwater town longer than I should. I have to play detective.’

  ‘Has Michelle skipped bail?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I’m here on a relocation mission.’

  ‘Kidnapping.’

  ‘That’s an ugly word. I’m here to reunite a family. I’m the good guy in this.’

  ‘Michelle came all the way to this town for a new life, not because she wanted to go back to her old one.’

  ‘I’m not here for Michelle,’ Garrett said. ‘Just the freak.’

  It took everything Victor had to remain in place.

  Garrett saw this. ‘You want to rush me, don’t you?’

  Victor remained silent.

  ‘Think you can cover ten feet before I can apply six pounds of pressure?’

  Victor didn’t move.

  Garrett said, ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘Michelle will never give him up.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure Mr Smith and Mr Wesson here will be able to convince her that it’s in her and the … the kid’s best interests to hand him over to me in a calm, peaceful manner. I want to keep this civilised.’

  ‘What happens once you take the boy? You’re guilty of kidnapping.’

  ‘I’m sure I can convince the mother it’s no such thing. It’s all for the best.’

  ‘And if you can’t convince her?’

  Garrett’s silence answered for him. He changed the subject. ‘Don’t suppose you know where I can find them, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Victor said.

  ‘Can’t say I’m wholly surprised to hear that. If you knew, you wouldn’t be here. Then
again, I don’t suppose you would tell me if you did know, would you?’

  ‘No,’ Victor said again.

  Garrett pursed his lips. Nodded. Stared. ‘I could make you, you know. If I thought you knew where they were, I could make you tell me.’

  ‘No,’ Victor said for the third time. ‘I would never tell you.’

  This seemed to amuse Garrett, who almost smiled. ‘Never? Wow. That’s a strong word, Fish. You’d best pray we don’t need to test that theory.’

  ‘I don’t pray any more.’

  ‘God stopped listening?’

  ‘I stopped deserving His attention.’

  ‘I thought we were all unworthy. All sinners.’

  ‘Some of us more so than others.’

  ‘I’m starting to like you, Fish,’ Garrett said. ‘But I’m not here to make friends. I’m working. I’m just here to find the kid.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Then the race is on,’ Garrett said. ‘Although not fair given you’ve had a head start.’

  ‘You have more resources.’

  ‘Maybe it’ll be a photo finish.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Victor said.

  ‘But I’m confused,’ Garrett said. ‘I know why I’m trying to find them, but why have you been trying to find them?’

  ‘Because they were missing,’ Victor said. ‘Because no one else noticed.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Wilson. So kind, in fact, that it touches what remains of my decency. I’m not a complete monster, you know, so I’m going to give you some advice. Are you the kind of man who can take advice?’

  ‘I’m aware that there’s a limit to my knowledge.’

  Garrett said, ‘Forget the photo finish. This is a race you don’t want any part of. Stop looking for them. Go home. Go back to the States and forget all about Michelle and all about Joshua, and especially all about me.’

  ‘Is this you advising me or Mr Smith and Mr Wesson?’

  Garrett said, ‘For now, it’s me. You’ve walked into something way beyond your understanding. That’s not your fault. And as I said: I’m starting to like you. Hence, I’m giving you a chance to back out and do the right thing. I’m not an unreasonable man and I don’t put a bullet in anyone I don’t need to.’ He stepped back towards the front door. ‘I’m going to leave now and then you’re free to go – just so long as you go, go. You get in your truck and you don’t get out again until your tank is empty. Because this is the first and very last time I’ll tolerate you getting in the way of my pay cheque. Am I making myself clear?’