The Devil's Anvil

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The Devil's Anvil Page 10

by Matt Hilton


  I knew that by leaving her alone in the house it was placing her in a precarious position, but the alternative was that if I was inside when they entered then a fight would be unavoidable. Best I wait outside and see. At the first hint they had discovered Billie’s hiding place, I’d go in. We’d organised a course of action earlier: if she thought they’d discovered the crawl space she was to hit speed dial on her cell phone and I’d slip in behind them. If they didn’t find her then all well and good. Hopefully they’d leave and we’d have learned that, yes, she was indeed under threat from the criminals seeking her husband.

  While the guy in spectacles stood in front of the door, his partner moved along to the sitting-room window, cupping his hands on the glass and peering inside. He couldn’t see much for the closed drapes, except for down either side – the same strips I’d used to look out earlier. He shook his head at his pal. The one at the door took out his phone and pressed a button – speed dial – and I was positive that he was calling the men round back for a status update. He spoke too low for me to hear, but I caught his gruff tones, and his apparent dissatisfaction. ‘No. Stay there,’ he said a bit louder. ‘Watch the exits. I’ll go in with Danny: if we flush her out she’ll have to run your way. Do not let her escape, even if it means bringing her down hard.’

  His words were enough for me, answering the question succinctly. Again I was tempted to rise up and plug both those guys on the front porch, but the noise would bring the others running. With the element of surprise gone, the second part of the battle wouldn’t be as easy. Not that I feared the fight as much as I did what would become of Billie if I failed to win. I’d already formed the opinion that the two out front were pros, and it stood to reason that the other two would have similar military backgrounds. If they beat me, then they’d realise there was something to protect in the house and their search wouldn’t end until they had their hands on Billie.

  The man put away his phone. I half expected him to kick his way inside, but he didn’t. He took out some tools from his jacket pocket and set to unlocking the door. In less than two minutes he had unpicked the lock; having no experience in lock picking I didn’t know if that was a good time or not, but it again told me that they were pros – at least of some type. He opened the door and pushed it gently inward. His pal, Danny, went inside first, and then he followed. Before fully committing himself to the depths of the house, he paused on the threshold and looked again at the truck. He shrugged off whatever was troubling him and went in. My heart beat fast. I waited, nervously listening for the first indication that they’d discovered Billie’s hiding place.

  13

  Clutching her phone to her chest, Billie sat in darkness, under the eaves of the roof. She couldn’t remember when she was last in the place, and would be happy if she didn’t have to hide in it after this night. She imagined that spiders and possibly even bats shared the space with her, and that was almost as frightening as the thought that strangers prowled through her house seeking her. She could hear them moving from room to room, checking all the conceivable places she might be. They went stealthily, but the old house creaked and moaned to their footsteps. A loose board on the stairs sang out a cry of discomfort as one of the men ascended the steps to the attic. Billie held her breath.

  She glanced at the faintly glowing screen of her phone.

  Joe had instructed her to hit the call button if she felt she had been discovered. She was tempted to hit the button right then, but forced herself to hold off. She mustn’t panic. Joe was positive that these men meant her no immediate harm, preferring to take her prisoner, and they would only hurt her if she attempted to flee them. He’d encouraged her to remain silent, keep hidden and allow them to carry out their search while he saw to her safety. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ he had reminded her.

  When he’d handed her the bulletproof vest and made her wear it, when she’d seen the gun he’d armed himself with, she half expected Joe to barricade himself inside the house and gun down anyone trying to break inside. Wasn’t that what bodyguards did in the movies? They laid down their lives for the person they were protecting. But she conceded that it made more sense to stay hidden. There was less chance of injury all round, and maybe when these men failed to find her they would go away. But what would happen then? They’d only come back again.

  The door to her art studio creaked open. She could almost picture the scene as the searcher peered inside the room. He would move stealthily across the room, checking behind her easel, then perhaps going to the window and looking out towards the lakeshore before returning to poke around behind the canvases propped along the wall next to the closet. The darkness under the door to the crawl space shifted, greyness where before it had been blackness. The closet door had been opened. She held her breath, finger poised over the phone. The grey darkened and she thought the seeker had closed the door again, but as she strained to see she could make out the faintest hint of movement. The person was inside the closet, his feet directly in front of the small door, blocking the dim starlight. She believed she could hear his breathing, but that was probably just the blood coursing through her own veins. There was a soft click as something in the closet was moved aside. Another noise, akin to a knock. Then the greyness was back as the seeker stepped out of the closet and into the studio again.

  The muscles in Billie’s forearms were aching, and she realised that she’d been posed statue-like as she held off pressing the button on her phone. Her jaws ached from clenching her teeth and there was a dull pain in her breasts from the tension, or from the uncomfortable weight of the vest; she wasn’t fully sure. She was too tense to let out her pent-up breath. She feared that she’d hiss like a snake, and the searcher would hear and return to the closet, more intent on finding her hiding place than before. Her lungs were screaming for fresh air, and she forced her breath to leak between her teeth in a series of short exhalations. Finally she sucked in air, and the effort not to gulp caused a tremor to run through her.

  Another sound.

  This one from further away.

  The seeker had left the studio and returned to the short flight of stairs. There was a low murmur of voices and she understood that her hunters were confused by the apparent deserted nature of the house. What would they do now? Would they remain in the house, assuming that she was late returning home, and decide to wait her out? Or would they simply leave as Hunter had figured?

  Damn you to hell, Richard!

  The curse almost found voice, but she managed to keep it to herself. Nicola had died in the crash. Were they stupid? How the hell could her husband have survived the plunge from the bridge, the crushing impact with the boulders in the river, the raging white water? She’d said earlier to Joe that she’d happily execute Richard given the chance, and she felt no less certain in her conviction now that her husband had brought these men to her home. If she were found, she’d show the invader just how far she’d go to protect herself too. She’d smash her phone into his head, try to jam the broken shards into his eyes if she could . . .

  Calm down, she told herself. You’re about fit to burst, and those people will hear you. Do you really think you can fight your way past them with no real weapon? Just use the phone as Joe said.

  It was a struggle to contain her anger, but she managed. She sat in the dark, listening to the soft footfalls in the house. Occasionally she caught a soft clunk or squeak but they were distant. She kept her eyes on the faint grey strip of light at the base of the door, anticipating it going black again. Her hands clenched her phone, one finger poised over the call button. They shook with the effort, and she was positive she’d have trouble straightening her bent finger afterwards. To take her mind off discovery, she thought about her daughter. It didn’t matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring Nicola’s features to mind. All she saw was that indistinct figure in red, flitting away from her every time she tried to draw her face to clarity. It was his fault: Richard had taken even the memory of her daughter away. And
now he’d brought these men to her home. The bastard!

  Billie felt her breath hitch in her chest, knew she’d made the bitter announcement aloud.

  The greyness at the bottom of the door grew black.

  ‘Oh hell,’ Billie wheezed under her breath and she stabbed at the cell phone.

  The door was pulled open, and she shuffled back as far as she could get. The roof pressed down on her shoulders, constricting her, and she pulled up her knees, ready to kick and flail if that was all that was left to her.

  A figure crouched at the doorway, too large to fit easily through it. He leaned in, and Billie saw the glow from a phone he held in his hand. She didn’t doubt that it vibrated softly with the incoming call.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Joe Hunter said, extending a hand to her. ‘It’s only me. They’ve gone. You can come out now.’

  14

  ‘Pack only what you think’s necessary for a couple of nights. Anything else you need we can grab along the way,’ I said.

  Billie looked at me as if I’d told her we were emigrating to Australia.

  ‘What do you mean? I can’t leave.’

  ‘We have to. But only for a day or two, until we know you’re safe.’

  Billie held up the flats of her palms. ‘I can’t leave my home. Hell, Joe, all of my work is here. I’ve a business to run!’

  ‘I’m sure that Hilary can hold the fort for a day or two without you. Surely you take the occasional day off? A vacation? Doesn’t she look after the gallery then?’

  ‘She does, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have to run away and hide. I’ve done nothing wrong, remember?’

  ‘I know. But that doesn’t matter to those guys. They’re after your husband, and I’m assuming will use any means necessary to find him.’ I didn’t want to frighten her, but under the circumstances maybe a little fear would do some good. ‘They came here with the intention of snatching you. What do you think they were going to do then?’

  ‘Hurt me? Beat Richard’s whereabouts out of me?’ Her voice was frosty, no trace of fear. ‘They’d be wasting their time because there’s only one thing I could tell them. Up until yesterday Richard was a rotting corpse as far as I was concerned.’

  ‘But now we know different.’

  ‘No, Joe. We don’t. We only know what Agent Cooper told us. How do we know that this man who was spotted was actually Richard? For all we know it’s all part of a trick; there’s something that Cooper isn’t telling us. And even if it were Richard, why would anyone think that he’d come here? This is the last place – and believe me, I’m the last person – he’d want to lay eyes on.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Those men believe he’s alive. Get your things together, we need to leave.’ I picked up my meagre belongings that I’d stuffed into a knapsack. Everything else I owned I was wearing. ‘Whether Richard’s alive or not, whether Cooper is lying to us or not, those men think otherwise. They will come back. I overheard them as much as say so. Right now they think they missed you, perhaps assuming that they can find you in town, but they’ll be back. Next time they won’t play things as nice and easy.’

  ‘Where are we supposed to go?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ I said. ‘Just out of here. If we can’t call the police, I need to take you somewhere nobody will think of looking.’

  We’d already talked about summoning help, and for a change it wasn’t me who’d argued against calling the local police. Billie had been dead against the idea, and she still was. ‘I’ve told you, if you call those idiots from the sheriff’s department in Hill End, I know how that will play out. They’ll have a poke around, take down my complaint, and when they see no harm’s been done they’ll leave with instructions that I call them again if anything further happens. They’re a bunch of inept fools, trust me.’

  ‘Those men invaded your home, Billie, and if I’m right it was with the intention of doing you harm. Forget the local deputies, we’ll call the county police, they have a duty to protect you.’

  ‘No. I won’t go to them either, not after they treated me like a suspect in Nicola’s death. Don’t you see, Joe? If I go to them with this, it will only give them reason to dig up the past again. I was treated badly by them the last time, and I don’t need to go through all that again.’

  Billie looked ready for a fight. In the end she was probably right. Until something major happened, and hamstrung by procedure, the police wouldn’t be able to do a thing to help, and by then it would be too late. Plus she’d enough to contend with without being set at the centre of a fresh criminal investigation, where the past would be raked up, opening her already raw wounds.

  ‘OK,’ I acquiesced. ‘But we’re still leaving. Once Rink arrives we’ll be in a better position to protect you, but we can’t wait for him here.’ Billie knew that my friend was coming to help, but also that he wasn’t due until sometime the following afternoon. I made a mental note to call and tell Rink we were moving.

  Billie fetched a small holdall, but didn’t start filling it.

  I’d thought about contacting Cooper again, confirming his fears that Billie was a target and demanding he organise protection now that we knew the threat was real. But like it or not, my old ATF buddy had a personal agenda in this, and I knew I was the only protection Cooper was prepared to send. ‘C’mon, Billie, you’ve got your own way, but time’s short.’

  Leaving her to it, I went outside and stood in the yard. It was still night, still misty. I was confident we could slip away unnoticed but time was growing short. The recent visitors wouldn’t give up on the farm easily – if at all. Perhaps one or more of them had stayed behind to keep an eye on Billie’s home while the others checked out other locations in Hill End. I eyed her pick-up, and decided it would be best left as it was. I went to the barn and got my rental car and pulled up alongside the old Chevrolet. Billie came outside, surprisingly quicker than I’d expected. She was toting the holdall, as well as a smaller leather bag over her shoulder. After locking the door she walked to my car and piled her belongings on the back seat. She stood for a moment looking back at the house, maybe thinking she’d never see the place again. If I had my way she would, and it would be without fear of anyone else invading it in future. She shook her head, then turned for the front passenger seat.

  ‘Climb in the back,’ I advised.

  She frowned.

  ‘We might pass those guys out on the road. If you’re sitting up front they could see you. Get in the back and lie down on the seats until I give you the all clear.’

  She clucked her tongue, but again conceded I had a point. She clambered in, pushing her bags on to the floor, making more room to spread out.

  ‘Comfortable?’ I asked.

  ‘Just drive, why don’t you?’

  ‘That road there.’ I meant the one that circled the lake and into the hills. ‘Where does it go?’

  ‘Into the wilderness,’ she said without sitting up. ‘There’s about twenty-five miles of woodland and hills between here and the next town along. It’s called Hope End.’

  ‘Unfortunate name for a town,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t think they considered its double meaning when naming the town. It sits at the western end of Hope Lake, hence the less than imaginative choice.’ Billie gave an exasperated laugh. ‘Come to think of it, the “end of all hope” connotation didn’t come to my mind until you asked: I hope it isn’t a bad omen.’

  ‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’ I was trying to reassure her, but doubtless came across as egotistical and overconfident. She gave another laugh of exasperation. I shut my mouth and drove off without the benefit of lights, because in the mist the glow would give us away.

  Earlier when the four searchers had finished at the house, the two that looked like brothers had conversed at the front door. Then the one with spectacles had taken out his phone and spoken to those lurking out the back. Though I couldn’t hear clearly enough to make out what was said, from his body language he looked an
noyed that they hadn’t found Billie asleep in her bed, but was unprepared to give up on the hunt. Slightly louder he’d mentioned going to Hill End. The two had then got in the green van and driven off. I thought I heard the second engine too, but couldn’t be certain that the other two men had left. One thing I was sure of was that their vehicle – if it was still at the roadside – was to the left, so I turned right for Hope End.

  It was an amateurish miscalculation. I should have realised that once they found the farm empty they’d move their vehicle beyond the entrance. They hadn’t left at the same time as those in the van; they’d driven further along the road and positioned themselves to watch for Billie returning home. I saw their navy-blue SUV parked on the edge of the road furthest from the lake. They’d turned it so that they were facing us as we drove towards them. Their lights were off, and so were mine. The only saving grace was that they were watching for Billie’s headlights as she returned along the Hill End road and didn’t have a great view through the mist, so they didn’t see my rental pull out of the farm track and only noticed us as we were almost upon them.

  ‘Keep your head down,’ I whispered.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Shhh. Can’t speak.’

  As I drove by the SUV, I restricted myself to only flicking a cursory glance over those inside. I hoped that I’d fool the watchers into thinking me some local, a drunken one at that, returning to my mountain home, without the sense to switch on my lights. It was a long shot, but it was all I could do.

  I’ve trained myself to snapshoot scenes with one glance. That way I can take in detail for later recollection. I did so then. To the lone watcher in the SUV my glance would have looked like a flick of my eyes at most, but I saw enough to tell he was studying me – and my car – with interest. The interior of his SUV was in darkness, but I could still make out a man of solid build and close-cropped hair. His eyes caught an errant moonbeam and they were fixed on my face with laser intensity. Then he began to crane over and I knew he was checking out who was in the back seat.

 

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