by Matt Hilton
‘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.
‘I think we’re wasting our time here. She’s in there taking a late lunch or something, so it’s unlikely she’s going to leave any time soon. The sign on the door says the gallery stays open until six. Why don’t we just come back at closing time?’
His words confirmed that he was waiting to make a move of some type but not that he was dangerous. I couldn’t hear the answer, but his body language told me he was on the receiving end of a berating.
‘When will you be back, Kirk?’ the man demanded. ‘I wouldn’t mind taking a leak and I can’t do that standing out on the freakin’ sidewalk.’
I guessed he was speaking to the suit. From his tone of voice the suited man wasn’t a superior, just a better-dressed peer. Smelly wasn’t happy that his buddy Kirk had left him to stand guard all this time. On the contrary I was. I was also happy to note that his pal wasn’t returning in a hurry. It would be so easy to move in close, jam my gun under his ribs and move him somewhere quiet. In fact, I contemplated doing so for a long heartbeat, but decided no. If the man went missing it might draw in his pal, and likely reinforcements, so it was better that I bide my time, consider my next move. Rink would have been proud of me. I moved away and entered a store a couple of units along. I kept an eye on him through the window, while pretending to examine some gifts on a rotating stand. When enough time had passed, I came out the shop again and wandered past him, back to my rental car.
Inside the car I placed my SIG on the seat again and covered it with the corner of the bag supplied by Billie. I took out my cell.
‘Billie? Joe.’
‘What’s happening? Are they still outside?’
‘One of them is.’
‘What does he want?’
‘At a guess I think he’s waiting for you to go home.’
‘You know, something came back to me after you left. Yesterday, before I rang you? I think I saw the same man down by the lake on my property. I can’t be sure, but I caught a flash of red – the same colour as his coat – but I just wrote it off at the time as my imagination. Do you think he’s been out there watching me since Agent Cooper was here?’
Billie was astute, no question.
‘I’ve checked with Cooper, he says they’re not with him. But that’s if he’s telling the truth.’
‘Why wouldn’t he? Oh, yes, I see. He wants Richard and thinks I might lead him to him.’
‘There is that,’ I said. ‘But we won’t know until I speak to our smelly friend. Can Hilary take over your duties at the store?’
‘I’m sure she will, but let me check.’ There was a muffled conversation, and then Billie came back on. ‘Yeah, Hilary’s happy to take over for a while. What’s on your mind, Joe?’
‘All I want you to do is come out of the shop, get in your car and drive home.’
‘You want me to get the man to follow me?’ Surprisingly there was no fear in her voice. If anything she sounded excited at the prospect of a chase. ‘Are you going to trap him, find out what he does when confronted? We could probably make him speak if—’
‘That’s not my intention. I just want to see how he reacts.’
‘Huh.’ My reply was obviously displeasing.
‘It’s important that you don’t alert him, Billie. Try to act as natural as possible. Don’t look for him. He has his eyes on you and won’t miss you coming out. Just get in your car and drive home. Don’t stop. Even if you see him pull over, don’t do anything to let him know you’ve spotted him. I’ll join you at your house, OK?’
‘OK. But what if he doesn’t follow?’
‘He will. I’m sure of it.’
‘Give me a few minutes to get my coat and purse and then I’ll set off.’
‘Great. And don’t worry, because I’ll be close behind.’
‘OK.’
‘Billie?’
‘Yes?’
‘Which is your car?’
‘The blue Jetta parked a few spaces up from the gallery.’
The delivery truck had pulled away. I had a clear view along the street and could see the roof of Billie’s Jetta over the top of a smaller sports car. ‘Got it,’ I said.
I waited for less than two minutes. Billie came out of the shop and strode towards her car. She looked determined, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her shoulders a tad stiff, but she resisted taking a look for the smelly man. He, on the other hand, almost performed a pirouette as he turned away to avoid eye contact. He watched her reflection in a store window, and as soon as she pulled the Jetta away from the kerb he jogged across the road and clambered inside a parked SUV. He peeled away and followed close behind Billie. I gave it a few seconds then also pulled out. I didn’t fear he’d notice me following because he was so engaged in watching his quarry. Through the back window, I could tell he had his cell phone pressed to his ear. Calling in the suited man.
9
Billie led the way over one of the Victorian bridges at the south-west corner of town, and picked up a road that went deep into a valley. We didn’t get far out of town before the woods closed in on both sides. The road hugged the slopes of the northern hills, twisting and turning with each convolution of the terrain. If I hadn’t known where Billie was heading it would have made it difficult to follow, but with foresight I could sit back on the tail of Smelly Man without fear of losing her.
I’d never been to Billie’s farm. But neither had I been idle on my way out to Washington State: I’d brought up maps on my cell phone, noted the main routes and major features of the landscape. Even so, it’s one thing viewing a map, quite another when you’re on the ground. Some of the landmarks were hidden by the hills or forest, and it didn’t take me long to put aside what I’d learned and concentrated on what lay ahead. One feature burned into my memory was of a long teardrop-shaped lake about midway to Baker’s Hole, and I began to look for it, watching for a glimmer of sunlight on water through the trees. On zoom, I’d found that there were a couple of wide layovers opposite the lakeshore, and thought I could put one of them to good use if going with Billie’s idea of a confrontation. Maybe I should get to the bottom of things at first opportunity.
Smelly didn’t make a move to close the gap on Billie. He hung back, just out of the range of her mirrors, and it confirmed to me that he knew where she was going. It also strengthened my theory that he’d been hiding out in the hills near her farm, and that it hadn’t been a trick of her imagination when Billie thought she’d spotted someone in a red coat. I decided to drop the plan I was formulating. Why force his car off the road on to one of the layovers when he would presumably stop before reaching the farm and skulk off to his hiding place?
The teardrop lake seemingly came out of nowhere. I steered round a tight bend in the road, and there it was. On the right the road hugged the lakeshore and I could see the first layover. Billie was already passing it, Smelly about a quarter-mile behind her. I could have sped up enough to catch him at the second pull-off, but I held back. I doubted he had the presence of mind to check if he was being followed, but you never could tell. Then we were all past the lake and heading up an incline to a wedge-shaped pass. Another mile or so further in the next valley Baker’s Hole dominated, and Billie’s farm sat approximately a mile further on again. Less than two miles before Smelly Man would have to pull over or risk alerting Billie to his presence.
Periodically I checked the road behind. I’d be crazy if I neglected to check my six. It was apparent that Billie’s watcher had called his pal and informed him of Billie’s unscheduled return home. If I were in either of their shoes, I’d assume that something had occurred to summon her back to the farm. Being that they were awaiting the imminent arrival of Richard Womack, it would be fair to assume that she’d hurried home at his beckoning. They’d be excited by the possibility and Suit Man wouldn’t want to miss out on capturing their prey.
He’d be coming, and probably quickly to make up for lost time.
There were a couple more dogleg turns in the road, and as I came out the second I was just in time to see Smelly pull into a service trail that disappeared between a small stand of trees towards a ridge line on the hills. In the distance, Billie’s Jetta was a blue blur against the mist drifting off Baker’s Hole. She turned on her flashers as she approached the entrance to her farm, a conscientious driver.
It was decision time. If I followed the SUV up the hillside I could no longer stay hidden. Also, I trusted that Smelly would come to a halt before long and I’d have to abandon my vehicle on the trail below him. I didn’t mind the hike in, but if his suited pal was on his way to rendezvous then he’d come across my car and know that they’d been rumbled. I continued on a few hundred yards and pulled the car off road on to a shoulder lumpy with coarse grass and rocks. If it was Suit Man’s intention to carry on towards the farm, then he’d see my vehicle, but I didn’t think he would. I inserted my gun in my waistband as I got out the car, zipped my jacket up to my throat against the chill and tracked back to the service road. A check along the road showed no impending arrival of the second man, and I couldn’t hear the sound of a distant engine. It meant nothing: the turns in the road blocked any view, and the topography would play havoc with acoustics; for all I knew, Suit Man could be very close behind. I began jogging up the trail. It was muddy going, and the deep ruts showed how often vehicles had come and gone up the trail in the last few days: a lot of times. I arrived at the first bend where the road followed the natural ridge and plunged into the forest, continuing to jog at a parallel to the trail.
The going was easy enough. The trees weren’t tightly packed and there was room to move between them without fear of breaking any of the lower branches, though I had to watch for brittle windfalls underfoot. As I’d expected, I came across the parked SUV soon enough. To gain any vantage point on Billie’s farm, the guy couldn’t drive too high up the trail or his view would be obliterated by the mist coming off the lake, or by the low-lying clouds crowning the hills above. I slowed, walking heel to toe, ensuring that each foot was placed with care as I moved closer to the SUV. I pulled my SIG from my waistband, and held it against my right thigh as I progressed.
