The Devil's Anvil (15 page)

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 annoyed 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.

‘Keep down,’ I warned again.

‘Aw, hell, Joe! I think he saw me.’ Billie squirmed around on the seat, and I didn’t know if she was trying to get down into the foot well with the bags or if she’d given up the deception. ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help looking. I think he looked right at me.’

By then we were two car lengths beyond the SUV and moving further away. I checked my mirrors, and saw the man poke his head out of the window to get a bead on us. Either that or he was taking down the licence plate number. Not good. Not good at all.

‘I asked you to stay down.’ I tried not to sound angry.

‘My curiosity got the better of me. I said I was sorry.’ Billie didn’t sound sorry, she sounded equally angry. ‘I wanted to know who it was we were running from.’

‘It looks as if we’re about to find out.’ Behind us the man had switched on the engine. The lights came on automatically. I gave my rental throttle but not too much. I probably couldn’t outrun the SUV in a sedan on these mountain roads. I placed my SIG on the passenger seat when I saw the SUV do a rapid turn on the road and follow. ‘OK. This isn’t working out the way I hoped.’

The SUV powered up behind us.

Headlights flashed, glancing off my mirrors.

Still playing it dumb, I turned on my lights, and offered a friendly wave of thanks out of the window.

Behind me the guy flashed his main beam again, then hit the horn. I sped up, passing the lake; the road began to rise up into the surrounding hills. The SUV came close on our tail, the driver accelerating and decelerating aggressively. His lights flashed, his horn blared.

I braked and pulled over.

‘What are you doing?’ Billie demanded.

‘Seeing how our friend wants to play things,’ I said.

The SUV came to a halt. I couldn’t see for the glow from his headlights but it was fair to assume that my abrupt stop was the last thing the guy had expected. Grabbing my gun, I was out of the car in an instant and marching towards him. I kept the gun hidden behind my thigh, but I had to be fast and decisive before he thought to call in reinforcements.

‘Hey, buddy! Hey!’ I acted drunk, loud and slurring my words. ‘What you doing blinding me like that, huh?’

The driver didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t seen Billie after all and was now wondering how best to deal with a belligerent drunkard. As I strode up to his door I hoped that he would reach for his phone before he did a weapon. I pressed up close to his window, making an angry face, but really checking out his hands. I thumped the ball of my left fist on the glass. He wasn’t easily intimidated. He peered back at me, evaluating, unconcerned by my bravado. Both his hands were still on the wheel. Then he reached and switched off the engine. I stepped back as the door swung open. The guy stepped out. He was taller, and outweighed me by a number of pounds. Younger too.

‘Who the hell are you?’ His voice was husky. A crescent scar above his right eyebrow was puckered and white against his ruddy complexion. I didn’t require the extra details to recognise him as the first man I’d spotted lurking at the back of Billie’s house.

I lifted my SIG and aimed at his gut. ‘That’s exactly what I want to know about you.’

He glanced down at my gun as if it was a peashooter. His mouth turned up at one corner. ‘If you’re gonna shoot me, you betta make it count. A pissant little gun like that won’t stop me from ripping your head off.’

I lowered the barrel so it was inches from his groin.

The corner of his mouth drooped.

‘Who are you?’ I asked.

‘Who are
you
?’

‘If I tell you, you’re day won’t end well. Now come on, I’m not fucking about. Who are you and what do you want?’ My promise to Brandon Cooper was weighing heavily in my mind. Maybe the guy read that I was reluctant to shoot, because he just laughed.

‘Who’s that in the back of your car?’ He aimed a finger past me. If he expected me to follow his gesture so he could coldcock me while I was distracted he was mistaken.

‘What’s it to do with you?’

‘It’s Wilhelmina Womack, right?’

‘Never heard of her,’ I lied.

‘Richard Womack’s wife,’ he went on.

‘Aren’t they the pop singers?’ I said. He looked at me dumbly. ‘Womack and Womack? You know them. You look like a man who enjoys his disco music.’

‘Yeah, right. Funny,’ he said, unimpressed by my humour as much as by my appearance, or my gun. Maybe the same joke had been made a few times during discussions with his pals. ‘That’s her, all right. I saw her. I want to speak with her.’

‘Not going to happen.’

‘You’re gonna stop me?’ He raised an eyebrow. He opened his hands, palms up. It wasn’t a sign of surrender; he was readying himself for action.

‘Yes.’ Now I dropped all pretences at being anything other than what I was. I jammed the muzzle of my gun under his chin, forcing back his head. Now his palms did come up, open, near his shoulders. ‘But first you’re going to tell me a few things. You’re from Procrylon, right? You want Billie to draw out her husband? Well I hope you’re a fucking psychic medium, because he’s dead. You understand that? Dead. Just like you’re going to be unless you get the fuck in your car, drive away and don’t look back.’

The man snorted. He craned his neck, disdainful of my gun. Maybe he thought a nine mm slug up through his jaw and into his brain was something to be shrugged off. He even placed the fingers of one hand against the barrel, about the press it away. I shoved it harder into the soft flesh of his neck. ‘You’re not taking me seriously enough, buddy,’ I warned him.

‘Why’d I even bother? If you were gonna shoot, you’d shoot. All this talk just tells me that you ain’t gonna.’

Sadly he had a point.

‘Try me,’ I growled.

He craned his neck again. ‘Pal, you ain’t gonna do nothin’.’

I kneed him in the groin.

Gasping, he went down on his knees, his hands cupping his sore bits. ‘Son of a . . .’ his words ended in a wheeze.

I shoved the barrel of my gun into the nape of his neck. ‘You’d best start taking notice. Now listen up. Up till now you haven’t given me reason enough to kill you, but we’re getting there. Now stop trying my patience. You’re with Procrylon, right?’

‘They pay the bill,’ he agreed.

‘What are you? Merc, hired muscle, what?’

‘Private contractor.’

‘Same thing,’ I said. ‘How many guys are you working with?’

‘Enough for you to know not to mess with us.’

‘Still being the asshole, eh? Well, pal, it’s you on your knees with a gun to your head. Doesn’t matter how many others you can call on, they aren’t going to get here in time to help.’ To enforce my point I pushed down hard on the gun. The guy didn’t resist. Maybe his mind was still on his damaged balls. Before now he’d been smug, thinking I was all bluff, but now I got a whiff of his scent. He was sweating, the raw stink of fear evident. ‘Now listen up. This is how things are going to play out. You leave, you tell your friends to leave. Nobody goes near Billie Womack and we’re good. Do anything else and I swear to you; you’re entering a battle you’re not going to win.’

He let go of his groin to hold out his hands. This time they were palms down. ‘You can threaten all you like,’ he said. ‘Won’t mean a damn thing to the Jaegers. They won’t turn away from a fight, even if you were Jack-fucking-Reacher.’