The Book With No Name (32 page)

Dante and Kacy had settled in at a table in the Nightjar, a fairly large and reasonably busy bar on the edge of town. There were a lot of tables spread out around the bar area. Most of them had four or five chairs around them, but only one or two people sitting at them. Not many people were standing in the Nightjar, and the atmosphere seemed quite chilled out.

They had stopped in there on the way back from the fairground, looking to wind down after the stresses of the day and the general uneasiness they had felt among the crowd at the boxing. After a few beers they both felt a lot more relaxed about their predicament. Back in their motel room they had a hundred grand in a suitcase they had stolen from one of the rooms in the Santa Mondega International Hotel, and with them they also had the Eye of the Moon, acquired in much the same way. After a long discussion about the merits of selling the Eye, they had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the risk. There was no one they could trust, and with a hundred grand already in the bag, why risk their lives for the sake of a few grand more? It had been more Kacy convincing Dante, really. With a few beers inside him he was easier for her to manipulate. He became more relaxed and more open to her opinion. Besides, he hated arguing with her when he was trying to wind down with a beer, and she knew it.

But at about eight o’clock that evening, their plans changed. They were happily having their fourth beer to toast the joys that the future held in store for them, when they saw the two monks from the boxing ring walk in. Dante clocked them first, but while trying to kick Kacy under the table to
alert her, he made the mistake of staring in their direction for just a fraction too long. As they made their way to the bar, one of the monks caught sight of Dante eyeballing them. He looked back for just long enough to make the young man feel uncomfortable. As if this wasn’t unsettling enough, the monk then nudged his companion in the back and nodded towards Kacy. Both stared over for a moment, and muttered among themselves a little before sitting on two stools at the bar and ordering drinks of some kind.

Dante took a quick look to check that no part of the Eye could be seen sticking out through Kacy’s T-shirt. It couldn’t, but that didn’t necessarily mean the monks didn’t know she had it about her person. He had to get her out of there, and he had to do it subtly and quickly. He had no need to say anything to Kacy, however. She could see in his eyes that something was wrong.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ she whispered to him. Then, beneath the table, she tapped him on his right knee and nodded towards the exit.

‘Wait up a minute,’ said Dante. ‘Let’s not be too obvious about it. You get up first as if you’re going to the restroom, but on your way over there, try and slip out through the front doors without them seein’ you.’

‘What are you goin’ to do?’

‘Gonna sit here like I think you’re comin’ back. If they follow you I’ll be right behind them. If they don’t, then after about five minutes I’m gonna leave too. I’ll meet you back at the motel. Go as fast as you can. Don’t stop for anyone.
Anyone,
okay?’

‘Okay. I love you, baby.’

‘I love you too. Now get the fuck out.’

Kacy got up and made her way towards the ladies’ restroom. She passed the two monks at the bar, all the while keeping them in view out of the corner of her eye. When she was sure they weren’t looking, she took a quick diversion behind a small party of drunken revellers and headed for the front entrance. Soon she was out in the street.

It was getting dark now. And Kacy was alone.

Kyle and Peto decided that to head straight to the Tapioca wasn’t necessarily a good idea. After much discussion, they agreed that they should try out a few of the other drinking dens first. If they ventured into each bar they came across on their way to the Tapioca, they were effectively doubling their chances of finding the Eye, or at least of finding some more clues as to its whereabouts. As it turned out, their first stop was the Nightjar. Peto scouted around for a place to sit as they walked in. Rather worryingly, everyone he saw looked like a potential vampire, although this was more to do with how paranoid he had become since their encounter with Rodeo Rex. Ever since the giant had destroyed him in the boxing ring he had felt much more vulnerable than usual.

Every single table was taken, and every single customer looked unsavoury, almost as if they were liable to pull a gun (or something worse) at any second. Except for one small table in the corner, at which a young couple were sitting, drinking from bottles of beer. These two actually looked quite normal, and they were the only people who looked in the slightest bit cheerful. Peto also noticed that the girl was incredibly pretty. So pretty, in fact, that he found he was staring at her for a little longer than might be considered polite. He nudged Kyle.

‘Hey, Kyle, there’s no tables free in here, but there’s a friendly-looking couple sitting at a table over there. We could go and sit with them.’

Kyle looked over at the table at which Peto was nodding. He shook his head. ‘No, let’s sit at the bar. I doubt they want us sitting with them.’ As they approached the counter he raised
his voice and called, ‘Two waters, please, bartender.’

The barman, a rather shifty-looking guy with straggly, scraggly black hair hanging over his face, poured them two glasses of water and charged them the outrageous sum of four dollars. Then he informed them, politely, that if they were drinking water they were not allowed to sit at the bar.

‘Come on, let’s go sit at that table with the nice-looking couple,’ Peto suggested again.

‘They’re not a couple any more,’ Kyle pointed out. ‘The girl just left.’

Peto checked for himself. Sure enough, the girl had gone. This was disappointing, for he had been looking forward to sampling the delights of a conversation with an attractive female. Nonetheless, the fellow she had left behind looked harmless enough, and would surely be grateful for some new companions to sit with.

‘All the more reason why the man would be glad of some friendly company, then. Come on, let’s go,’ he suggested cheerfully.

Kyle took a deep breath. ‘All right,’ he sighed, ‘but if he turns out to be a vampire and tries to kill us, you be certain that I’ll kill you first.’

Even though the sky was darkening as nightfall approached, Jensen found El Santino’s estate without difficulty. There wasn’t another property within sight for at least a mile. He had driven his tired old BMW for miles down a narrow, winding road flanked by a dense woodland of tall trees until, after about twenty minutes, he saw the crime lord’s home, the ‘Casa de Ville’, on the right. He quickly decided that it would be wise to drive on until he found a break in the woodland where he could leave the car without anyone spotting it.

He carried on for almost a mile before he finally found a sandy spot on the left-hand side of the road where he was able to pull in. The woodland was especially thick around this particular area. Unbeknown to Jensen, the lay-by was a very popular place for couples in cars to meet up and indulge in all manner of sexual activity with strangers from other cars. Luckily, he had arrived too early to get caught up in any such shenanigans. Darkness had only just fallen, so the random arrival of cars was still an hour or so away.

In the interests of discretion he decided that it wouldn’t do to park the car within sight of the road. So, showing all the driving skills of a twelve-year-old, he managed to weave the car in between a few trees and over a few bumps, until it was nicely positioned behind a clump of thick bushes where it could not easily be seen.

He got out of the car and slowly closed the driver’s door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible. For a moment he stood still, lost in thought. What should he do now? Was there anything he might need in an emergency?
He had the pager that Somers had given him, and he had his cellphone. Was there anything else he might conceivably need if things went wrong? And why was he worrying so much? He wasn’t normally one to feel uneasy about anything related to his work, no matter how perilous it might be. Then it came to him. It was the fact that Somers had given him the pager that had unsettled him. It suggested that the older detective recognized the danger Jensen was putting himself in. Yet all he was going to be doing was hiding in thick woodland, staking out a large house in the middle of nowhere. Albeit a house which was owned by Santa Mondega’s most notorious gangster, and one who might turn out to be a latter-day equivalent of Count Dracula and Vito Corleone rolled into one.

As he set off walking through the woodland back towards the Casa de Ville, he made a point of keeping the road in sight at all times. It was much harder work getting back to the mansion than he had expected. The woods were full of exposed roots and snakelike vines and branches, all seemingly eager to trip him up or wrap themselves around his arms and legs as he fought his way through them. Keeping quiet was also incredibly difficult. Every step he took seemed to cause a twig to snap, and in this kind of silence the sound seemed as loud as a clap of thunder.

It was a good twenty minutes before the mansion crept into view on the other side of the road, a dark silhouette against the night sky. There was a high stone wall that stretched all around the perimeter of the estate. Looking at the property from the other side of the road, rather than catching glimpses of it through the car window as he’d driven past, Jensen began to appreciate the sheer magnificence of it. This man El Santino owned a helluva lot of land. From his position directly in front of the main entrance, Jensen could see that the wall ran either side of the gates for as far as the eye could see. Impressive.

After unintentionally gawping at the sheer magnitude of it all for rather longer than he really should have, Jensen eventually had the sense to conceal himself behind a bush
opposite the entrance. The gates were almost twice the height of the wall – probably thirty feet high, he guessed. Somehow they appeared menacing with their heavy black iron bars twisted around with ivy and surmounted by barbed spikes. The effect, at night, was intimidating; he doubted whether it would be much more welcoming in daylight. Beyond the gates, a metalled driveway led all the way to the front of the main building, which was set about fifty yards back from the road. It was an ancient-looking stone construction that might well have been around for centuries, had there been anyone in those parts many centuries ago – or anyone who could build in dressed stone, at least. The place had the look of a castle in medieval times, and it was probably worth a fortune: millions of dollars, possibly even hundreds of millions of dollars, depending on its state of repair. From the outside it did look old, and creepy, but Jensen had a feeling that a rich gangster type like El Santino would have fixed it up inside with contemporary furnishings and all the comforts of modern life.

Staking out this huge building should be a reasonably interesting job. There was plenty to admire about the Casa de Ville, and Jensen made up his mind that if things got a little dull, he would wander along the road a little bit further to see what other interesting architectural structures were on show.