Now Farrow leaned forward, tossed Bell’s business card on the coffee table. “I haven’t heard from him in a year, at least.”
Farrow hadn’t changed much since the last time Devlin had seen him. More gray in the hair, lines around the eyes, but the same attitude. On his left wrist was the silver-and-black Rolex Submariner Devlin remembered. A status symbol for airborne troops. He’d owned one just like it, had pawned it after he left Acheron.
“He had that card,” Devlin said. “He worked for you.”
“Used to.” Farrow patted his jacket pockets, took out a hard pack of Marlboros and a Zippo lighter. “But not for a long while. He was starting to seem a little…unstable.”
The man by the bar set a glass ashtray in front of him. Farrow said, “Thanks, Holly,” and shook out a cigarette from the pack.
“He’s dead,” Devlin said.
“I heard.”
“Then you know how it happened.”
Farrow lit the cigarette. “We have a computer program flags the names of present or past employees if they come up online. I read the story that ran in the newspaper down there. I heard about Colin Roarke too. Hell of a thing.” He snapped the lighter shut.
“You still with Kemper?”
“I run Core-Tech for him.”
“Where is he?”
“Right now? New York, taking care of some business. You know him. He never stops.”
“I’d like to talk with him.”
“Can’t do it, Ray. He’s a busy man. And you coming out of nowhere like this…You might be a threat, for all I know. Bracing my people on the street—”
“They braced me. I was on my way out.”
“You shouldn’t have been here at all. That’s enough to make me a little concerned, don’t you think? This is my home.”
In the bathroom, Cody said, “I think it stopped.”
“Make sure you clean up in there,” Farrow said. “Teresa sees blood in that sink when she gets home, there’ll be trouble.”
To Devlin, he said, “Teresa’s my wife.”
“I guessed.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Farrow,” Cody said.
Farrow turned, said, “Holly, will you take him outside? I think we’re fine here.” He looked back at Devlin. “The sergeant and I are just going to talk old times.”
“Cody, let’s go,” Holly said. Cody came out of the bathroom, cut a hard look at Devlin as he passed, handkerchief still at his nose, shirt stained with blood. His gun was back in its holster. They went out the side door.
“They work for Kemper too?”
Farrow drew the ashtray closer. “They work for Core-Tech, which means they work for me. Kemper has his people, I have my own. Holifield’s an ex-Marine, First Recon Battalion. Good man. Cody was with the sheriff’s office down here. I think I need to have a talk with him after tonight, though.”
Devlin looked around. Paintings of horses on the paneled walls, Farrow’s Army discharge, a framed map of Vietnam hand-painted on silk.
“Get you a drink?” Farrow said. “Got just about anything you could want back there.”
“No, thanks.”
“You don’t drink?”
“I do, sometimes.”
“Always better to ask. You never know when someone’s joined AA since you last saw them.”
“Not me. Not yet.”
“I remember you had some hard times when you first got back to the States. How you doing with all that?”
“Fine. You know, I saw Colin too. The day before he was killed. I wanted to tell him about Bell, see if he knew anything.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Made me angry when I read about it. They catch the thugs that did it?”
“Not yet,” Devlin said.
“You talk to the police?”
“I did. But there wasn’t much to tell them.”
Farrow ashed his cigarette. “You think there’s some connection between Bell and what happened to Roarke?”
“If so, I don’t know what it could be. Why do you ask?”
“I hate to bring this up, may he rest in peace, but…Bell was obviously into some shit, going back a while. Could be he had Roarke mixed up in it too. Why Bell came after you, I can’t figure. But even when he was working for Core-Tech, I had concerns.”
“About what?”
“He had money troubles, I knew that. He was always broke, no matter how much work we threw his way. Whether it was gambling, drugs, women…I don’t know. He was freelancing for other security companies too, including a couple of our competitors. One of the reasons we let him go. Who knows what else he had going on.”
“What kind of work was he doing for you?”
“Nothing major. Second or third man on some personal security details, a little courier work. To be honest, I didn’t trust him anymore. His behavior was getting a little erratic. More I think about it, more I think there were drugs involved.”
“He didn’t look like he was on drugs when I saw him. He looked strong. He nearly killed me.”
“Either way, he was screwing up too much for us to keep him. Letting him go wasn’t easy, all the history we had, but it had to be done.”
“You say he had debts?”
“I gathered. He had alimony and child support, I know that. And if you let those get out of hand, they’ll bury you. Just ask me.” He pointed at the ceiling. “Third go-round. Twenty years younger than me, but it worked out. Different experience this time, though. Older you get, the more you let certain things slide, focus on what’s important.”
“You have children?”
“Two daughters. One’s at Vassar, the other’s at Brown. Smart kids. You?”
Devlin hesitated. “A son. Just turned twenty.”
“That’s our immortality right there. What was it Jefferson said? ‘We’re soldiers so our kids can be farmers, and their kids can be artists’?”
“Something like that,” Devlin said.
“We had some times, though, didn’t we?”
“Emilio Mata,” Devlin said. “Herrera’s brother-in-law. From San Marcos.”
Farrow sat back. “What about him?”
“They found his body in a vacant house in Philadelphia a few days ago. It was in the papers.”
“What was he doing up there?”
“Colin said Acheron helped set Mata up in the States. Gave him a job and a new identity.”
“Not on my watch. I don’t know anything about that.”
“He said you handled it.”
“Negative.”
“Why would he say that if it wasn’t true?”
“No idea. Maybe he got confused. When the cops talked to you about Colin, did you tell them about Bell?”
“Didn’t seem any reason to.”
“What do they think happened?”
“Robbery, from the looks of it.”
“Probably illegals, gangbangers, maybe. I’m surprised the police haven’t caught them yet.”
Devlin took Bell’s card from the table, put it back in his shirt pocket.
“So what can I do for you, Raymond? You haven’t said.”
“Just wanted to meet, see if you knew anything that I could tell the police about Colin. They’re going to want to talk to me again.”
“You’re helping with their investigation?”
“Not really. I think I was a suspect at first, but that blew over, fortunately. I told them if I found out anything else, I’d let them know.”
“I don’t think I can help you, or them. I mean, is there a chance Bell and Roarke were involved in something that got Roarke killed? Sure. But sometimes things are just the way they look. What do they call it, Occam’s razor? The simplest answer is most likely to be true? We always want to construct some kind of story around things, tie them into a conspiracy. But sometimes they’re just what they are. And maybe that’s just what this was, a robbery.”
“You could be right,” Devlin said. “In fact, you pro
bably are.”
Farrow leaned forward. “Raymond, as long as you’re here…this may be none of my business—and tell me if it isn’t—but I’ll bring it up anyway. How are you doing financially? It’s been a while, your severance, disability, all that. They had to have run out a long time ago.”
“I’m doing okay, thanks.”
“You need a few bucks, get you by, let me know. I can make that happen. Better yet, we could set up a consulting situation, get you on the books. You wouldn’t have to do much, if anything. Core-Tech will pay, and we can work it out taxwise. I’m their CEO, so who’ll say different?” He grinned.
“Thanks,” Devlin said. “But I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Think about it. You were a good soldier, Ray, and you sacrificed a lot for the company back then. I haven’t forgotten that. You need any help—with anything—just let me know.”
“I will,” Devlin said.
Farrow stood in the driveway, watched Devlin’s Ranchero head off down the street. They’d sent Cody ahead in the Tahoe to raise the exit gate.
Drew Holifield came out the side door, stood behind him.
“You get it done?” Farrow said.
“Yeah. No issues.”
Farrow turned to him. “Show me. Then I want you to look up some stories for me online, print them out. “
“Okay. Anything else bothering you?”
“That Cody. I ought to fire his ass. Guy’s at least twenty years older than him.”
“In all fairness, boss, he got sucker punched.”
“That supposed to make it better? Call Dillon, get him over here, tell him he’s on duty starting immediately. Get another man too, to stay at the house twenty-four/seven.”
“You worried he’ll come back?”
“Just do it,” Farrow said.
When he went back in, Holifield was on a cellphone. Without taking it from his ear, he gestured at the laptop computer he’d opened on the bar. On the screen was an electronic street map, a slow-moving red dot that was Devlin’s truck. The farther it went toward the edge of the screen, the more the map expanded, zoomed out to show a larger area.
Farrow took out his own cell, popped off the back panel, slipped out the SIM card. He replaced it with another from his pocket, snapped the phone back together, and activated it. He called Lukas’s number. When he answered, Farrow said, “Where are you?”
“Home. Getting ready to head down where it’s warm, find our friend.”
“Forget that. I need you up here.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because he just left my house, that’s why. My fucking house.”
When the call ended, Lukas set the phone on the kitchen table. Tariq sat across from him, oiling a disassembled 9-millimeter Smith & Wesson Shield on a sheet of newspaper. On the table between them was an open gear bag with another pistol-grip shotgun, boxes of shells.
“Farrow?” Tariq said.
Lukas nodded. “Change of plans.”
“Why?”
“Devlin’s in Virginia. He tracked Farrow down somehow, showed up at his house.”
“Good for him.”
“How’s that?”
“Would you rather hunt a rabbit or a lion?” He began to reassemble the gun, fitting the pieces back into place.
“That some ancient Arab proverb?”
“No. But there’s honor in facing a worthy opponent. He went on the offensive, rather than waiting to be found again. I respect that.” He took a box of shells from the bag, opened it.
“Farrow’s freaking out,” Lukas said. “He sends someone to kill Devlin. A week later, the guy shows up at his door. The pressure’s on. That’s good for us.”
“We take care of this Devlin for him, then what?”
“Then he owes us,” Lukas said. “And a lot more than money.”
Tariq began to feed shells into the Shield’s magazine. “This is the end of it, right? Devlin’s the last one? Because if he isn’t, I think we need to renegotiate our contract.” He slid the full magazine home.
“He is,” Lukas said. “For now.”
Twenty-Four
The place she’d chosen was a coffee shop on the bottom floor of a Colonial-era house in the Society Hill neighborhood. She found Devlin waiting for her at a table near the back window, nursing a go-cup with the lid peeled back. It was late afternoon on a gray day. He’d phoned her an hour before, asked to meet.
“I’m glad you called,” she said. “I was starting to worry.”
He looked out the window at people passing by on the sidewalk, strolling the cobblestone streets.
“Something wrong?” she said.
“No.” He turned back to her. “I’m ready to give you another name.”
She got the recorder from her coat pocket, turned it on and set it on the table, then pulled out a notebook and pen.
“Actually, you gave it to me first,” he said. “Gordon Farrow. He’s the CEO of Core-Tech.”
“When I mentioned that name, you told me you didn’t know him.”
“Playing it safe,” he said. “Until I found out more.”
“You mean you lied.”
“I’m sorry.”
She felt a twinge of irritation. “Then why should I believe anything you tell me?”
“I was being careful, that’s all.”
“He was in Acheron with you?”
“Gordon was career military. Special Forces, served in Vietnam. When he retired from the Army he was recruited into Acheron, helped get it up and running. Bell, Colin, and I all worked for him there. He’d been an officer, so it was a natural fit. He put our teams together, took care of logistics, got us where we needed to be.”
“Was he in San Marcos?”
“That was one of the places, yeah. But he wasn’t generally in the field with us. He was the liaison between General Ramírez’s staff and Acheron. He helped plan operations, made sure they had maximum effect.”
“He ran the show?”
“Tactically. But Kemper was the brains and money behind it all. That’s always the way it worked. Kemper was the CEO of Acheron. Farrow was his right-hand man. Acheron was eventually folded into Unix. I’m guessing Core-Tech was Farrow’s consolation prize. That’s his baby. It’s a straight-up security company, along with whatever else it’s doing behind the scenes.”
“Like laundering money for Unix?”
“Maybe.”
“How do you know all this?”
“He told me.”
“Farrow?” She sat up. “You talked to him? When?”
“Yesterday. He lives in Virginia.”
“How’d you find him?”
“Wasn’t difficult, once I had his name.”
“Which I gave you.” Feeling the irritation again. “What else did he have to say?”
“Bell worked for him once, didn’t anymore. Said he’d left the company, gone rogue.”
“You believe that?”
“No.”
She opened the notebook. “Where does he live?”
He told her the address.
“He know about Roarke?” she said.
“He did.”
“He have any idea who did it?”
“Not that he told me.”
“And if I call him up, ask him?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “But it can’t hurt to rattle his cage a little.”
“You’re making me worry about agendas again.”
“Everything I told you is true.”
“And it’s all interesting,” she said. “But I’m still not sure how it ties in to Dugan’s.”
“Someone wanted Colin and me dead. They sent Bell after me. If he’d succeeded, I think his next target was going to be Colin. He already had his address.”
“That means whoever sent Bell had the resources to send someone else to kill Roarke.”
“And make it look like a robbery,” he said.
“Why come after you two now?”
“I don’t know.”
She flipped notebook pages, trying to read her own scrawled handwriting from that morning. She’d made some calls, found a project manager at a nonprofit government watchdog group who’d talked to her off the record. She’d followed that up with a call to the Associated Press bureau chief in D.C., a woman she’d worked with back in Raleigh.
“I did some more research on Kemper and Unix,” she said. “Pulled some campaign finance disclosure forms. Unix has been donating major money to a handful of politicians, both state and national. Nothing unusual about that, but their main beneficiary in the last few months has been Mitchell Harlin. You know him?”
“No.”
“U.S. senator from Virginia, two-time incumbent. Unix pumped a ton of money into his super PAC, and Kemper’s hosted fund-raisers for him at his house. Harlin’s up for reelection this year, and Kemper’s betting hard he’ll keep his seat. It’ll be worth a lot to him if he does.”
“Why?”
“Harlin’s been a fixture on the Armed Services Committee,” she said. “That’s his thing—‘Keep America Strong,’ ‘Take Back America,’ whatever. He helped Unix get their GSA Schedule.”
“What’s that?”
“A General Services Administration contract. It’s a long-term, open agreement that lets Unix sell to just about any government agency. It turns on the golden faucet, gets the money flowing. It’s really paid off for them, especially now. My source in D.C. says Unix is going to be up for a high-dollar contract, primarily for base security overseas. They’d prefer their contracts on a no-bid basis, of course, based on emergency need. The committee needs to approve it, which puts Harlin in the driver’s seat to make that happen.”
“How high?” he said.
“Way I heard it, four billion over the next three years, and that’s not counting projects they’ve got going on here in the States. The other rumor is they plan to go public at some point in the near future, which means a big payday for everyone involved.”
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