by Jack Parker
"Kidnapped," Bill muttered. "And they just went along with that?"
"All but one," Emery said. "But then Kurt was ever the cautious sort."
Bill reeled slightly. "Kurt? He was the one who kidnapped you?"
"It wasn't his idea, but he was among them, yes. I was in a very bad way when he found me. A very bad situation, and he rescued me from that. I owe him everything. He…took me in when all was said and done. See we'd sort of fallen in love over the course of things and…he taught me to be self-sufficient. Problem is all he knew was a life of crime, so that's what he taught me. I didn't know what else to do and I wasn't about to protest. I don't think I ever hurt anyone innocent, but I've done bad things, Bill. Stolen. Lied. Gotten folks killed who'd otherwise be alive if not for me. I'm not the good lad you think I am."
Bill again was silent, regarding Emery with a frown as he took it all in. After a moment he let out a breath and leaned forward, rubbing his hands together in his lap. "I suppose I…always knew there was something off about you. I ain't stupid. I know that when a man has no friends, no family, no recorded past and lives in a foreign country that he's running from something. But this…"
Emery sighed. "I never meant to lie to you. We didn't want to do that sort of thing anymore. We wanted to start over. But I guess you can't, can you? We were just kidding ourselves… You can't just pretend you haven't been where you've been or haven't done what you've done, you can't just put it down like a book and pick up another. I got so comfortable in this new life that I stopped being careful, and that complacency may well have cost me all that I hold dear."
The old man gave him an unreadable look before standing, hobbling over to a drawer and digging through it. After a moment he found what he was looking for, a silver hip flask, and came to sit back down. He took a swig of it and offered it out to Emery, who shook his head. "Emery," he said at length. "Did I ever tell you how I ended up in these parts?"
Emery paused uncertainly. "Yeah. Because of your fiancé, right? She lived here?"
Bill shrugged a shoulder. "That's a half truth. It's because of her that I came here, but she ain't the reason I stayed."
Emery took his tea in his hands again. "When did she die?"
Bill shook his head. "She didn't, far as I know. The last I heard of her she was back living in Brighton where we grew up."
Emery's brow creased. "She…wasn't Canadian, then?"
"No." Bill took another drink and leaned back in his chair. "You see lad, believe it or not I was a bit of a looker in my day. The girls really took a shine to me despite that I was a real cock up in all other departments. Couldn't hold a job. Didn't have much schooling. I made most of me money gambling and doing odd jobs. Loading boxes, cleaning up rubbish, things like that. When I was twenty-five or so I took a spot helping out at a local baker hauling sacks of flour and cleaning out ovens and that's where I met Winnie. She used to come in every other day and buy a few goods here and there. She was very posh and pretty and all that, nose in the air, you know the type. She quite liked lemon cakes, so I would always be sure to stock those up front. Snuck one into her order every time until the baker found out and gave me a scolding. Kept doin' it, though."
"Love at first sight, then."
Bill laughed. "Not hardly. She was strung up tight, that one. Never smiled. Seemed sort of sad. But she took a liking to me in time. Opened up a bit over the course of a few weeks and I think the first time I saw her smile I was done for. So naturally I was plum distraught to learn she was married."
"Married?" Emery repeated.
"She'd been with this bloke for a good long while by that point, but she didn't love him. Said he was a cold, careless sort, that he didn't care much for her. He called her names. Treated her unkindly. She felt trapped. Splitting up wasn't what people did back then, you realize. It's not like he was beatin' her or shagging other birds or anything like that, so as far as society was concerned she had no right to leave him. I was young and hot-blooded then, so I wanted to save her, you see. I was in love. Anyway, that baker didn't care much for me what with me chatting up the girl and giving out free cakes and whatnot. He gave me the boot after a while and I had nothing to turn to, so I figured I'd go for broke. I told Winnie I'd take her away, get her out of that mess she was in, and we could be happy together somewhere far off."
"Why did you choose Quebec?"
"Winnie knew French. She was the educated, cultured sort and I thought it'd be alright. I had just enough savings to make it here after selling most of my things. Didn't make much of a difference to me. I didn't have any prospects in Brighton. I hadn't made any marks there and starting over sounded quite nice. With her by my side I figured I could do it."
Emery ran his thumb over the watch on his wrist. "But it didn't happen that way."
"No. It didn't." Bill took another drink from his flask. "There's always a honeymoon period. We travelled around the country, saw sites, had a grand romance. I asked her to marry me and she said yes. But all that only lasted for a few weeks before things started to go sour. She didn't like that I wasn't making much money. I didn't have any real skills, after all, so I just did what I'd always done—took whatever jobs came my way. That didn't suit her. I think she got rather homesick, too, because she stopped wanting to go out. Mostly she'd shut herself in her room and read. We'd only been together for a month when she left. I came home one day to a note and that was that."
"After all that? She just left without so much as a proper goodbye? Without any explanation?"
Bill affirmed this with another nod. "She wasn't happy. I couldn't fault her."
"But…" Emery swallowed, setting his cup aside for good. "Did you ever see her again?"
"Of course. I told you I was a hothead back then. I rushed right back to Brighton to find her. Bollocks to Dear Johns, I was gonna hear it from her lips. I thought I'd convince her to come back with me. But she wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"She was sorting it out with her husband."
"She went back to him?"
"She went back for him, but I don't think she went back to him."
Emery leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
He gently gripped Emery's knee. The warmth was almost startling and it was only then that Emery realized how cold he'd been this past month. He looked into Bill's sympathetic face and felt like a child about to bawl his eyes out in Grandpa's lap. "What I mean is that Winnie taught me something very important. You can't start a new life before you've ended the old one. She went back to tell her husband honestly how she felt and why she left. To sort things out the right way. When she wouldn't come back with me, I returned to Canada, because without her my business in Brighton had totally ended. I started over. Opened my own shop. Made friends, routines, did things I'd never done before…made myself a nice little life. And so did she. That's what I'm trying to tell you, I suppose." The grip on his leg tightened. "You can start over, Emery. You can pick up a new book that better suits you. You've just got to make sure that the old one is well and truly finished before it goes back onto the shelf."
Emery looked down, eyes watering. He quickly wiped at his face and sniffed with a sharp nod. "…Thank you, Bill."
* * *
Emery pulled his handgun out of its case and marveled at how familiar the form was in his hand after all this time away from it. He'd never be able to forget what it felt like to fire one of these into a man and perhaps he never should. He slipped it into his neatly packed suitcase along with another and straightened out the collar of his jacket. Fidget was tucked into a glass travel box, which he carefully set in a corner of his clothes, and with that he was ready to leave. All funds had been pulled from their accounts. Rent had been paid in advance. Emery had groomed himself thoroughly, taken up his workout regimen again, and had a good lead on the location of an old friend he'd hopefully find in Whitchurch. He took one last look around his flat and eyed the mobile sitting on the bedspread near his suitcase. He carefully picked it up.
No missed calls. With a new wave of calmness he held up the phone and dialed Kurt's number. Voicemail again greeted him.
"I'm coming to find you," he said. "Wherever you are and whatever has happened to you, no matter what it takes. I promise. …Just hold on, Kurt."
Emery slid it away, zipped up his suitcase, and made his way out.
* * *
Emery stared at the early morning light shining in from the windows on Georgie's burgundy walls before him and moved to the edge of his bed with renewed determination. He was going to acquire Malcom's information. He was going to get to Hunter. He was going to find Kurt. Today was a day of action and he was fully prepared. By the end of it he'd be one chapter closer to closing this book for good.
Chapter 10
Victor blew out a harsh breath, jamming his fingers into his pants pockets as he leaned away from the wall and looked around. "Man, if she doesn't show…"
"She'll show," Emery assured beside him.
"I don't know, you have a weird amount of faith in this whore, dude."
Emery made a face. "Loretta. And who are you to judge? I seem to remember some bragging about your own sexual exploits."
"Nobody pays me to have sex with them," Victor countered. "I just find someone who thinks I'm hot and we fuck each other. You know, like normal people."
"How is using a woman just to get your end away any worse than using a man to get his money?"
Victor scoffed. "What the hell kind of sorry-ass sex do you think us straight folks have? The idea that women don't like it just as much as men is pretty fucking antiquated. I've never used a woman before in my life, and I've also never failed to satisfy one. Hookers piss me off because they fuck the kinds of guys who just shouldn't get laid. Ever. They treat women like shit and they suck at life—they don't deserve an out. Sex is probably my favorite thing ever and I don't like people who cheapen it."
Emery grinned and looked away. "Victor Scott, protector of the sanctity of sex."
"Hey, fuck someone at the end of a long, shitty day and then try and tell me sex isn't sacred."
"Sacred, eh?"
"Holy. Divine. Sure."
"So that makes you what, a…devout sexist?"
Victor's laugh came out as a long, crackling snort and he shook his head. "Shut the fuck up." He watched as Emery pulled a tin of mints from his pocket and held out a hand. "Give me one of those."
Emery was tapping some into Victor's palm when a phone went off. For some reason Emery went apeshit, jumping and dropping the tin to the ground where mints scattered everywhere as he gripped his breast pocket. He instantly fished out his phone and answered with wide eyes. "Emery." A moment later he was relaxing, clearing his throat and looking back at Victor. "Yes. Oh. You're sure? That's only about four blocks from here. Excellent…Yes. Great. Okay, we'll let you know." He hung up the phone and nodded to Victor. "Georgie says her men found him out. He's at a cocktail lounge not far from here. As soon as Loretta shows up we can head down and put this plan into action."
Victor looked down at the tin on the ground and then back to Emery. "You…sure you can handle this?"
Emery straightened up. "Of course. Are you?"
"Uh, sure."
Emery looked over Victor's shoulder and smiled. "Ah, there she is. Right on time."
Victor turned around to see a tall, large-breasted blonde making her way down the street towards them. He had to admit, she wasn't dressed like a hooker, even if her attire was blatantly provocative. She looked more like a girl ready to go out and barhop with her friends. Hopefully she could act the part.
"Hi!" She chirped, waving to Emery. She quickly came up to them and turned a circle. "How's this? Think I'll get his attention?"
"Darling, you'll get everyone's attention," Emery agreed. "And that's just perfect. Loretta, this is my associate Victor. Victor, Loretta."
She turned to him with a smile, looking him up and down. "He's a handsome one."
"Ignore me, this is his show," Victor said flatly.
Loretta leered at him. "An American, too? That's my favorite type…look at you, all muscle and attitude, I could just—"
Emery tried to clear his throat through a choke of laughter. "Victor's all business I'm afraid. Speaking of which I've just received word on our man's location. Are you ready to go?"
Loretta smoothed a few nonexistent wrinkles out of her dress. "Yeah, love. Took me three hours to pick out this number and I'm dying to show it off. Where's he at?"
"The Fairway. You know it?"
Loretta tucked a long curl behind her ear and nodded. "Been there a time or two, yeah. This is awful exciting, isn't it? Like something out of a spy film. You do this sort of thing often?"
"More often than I'd like. Shall we?" Emery held an arm out in their intended direction and Loretta swiped a hand at him.
"Naw, watch this." She stepped out to the edge of the walk and waved a hand, jumping up and down a little.
"We'll never get a taxi with the weekend crowd," Emery protested. "It'd be faster to walk."
"Pish," she replied. Victor and Emery watched as not a moment later a cab was pulling along the street obediently before her. She threw a smirk their way as she adjusted the straps of her dress. "The wonder of a good bustier, eh boys? Come on then."
* * *
The Fairway was, as Victor expected, a pretty crowded little place that seemed like a high society sort of night club. The people filing their way in were a mix of well-dressed men and scantily clad young women without much in-between and it all seemed about Malcom's scene from descriptions of the guy thus far. He, Emery and Loretta met Georgie a ways down the street in the covered stoop of a closed storefront as soon as they arrived on scene. Georgie observed Loretta's skintight black dress with consideration. "I think it's a good bet he'll go for her," she remarked.
"Why wouldn't he?" Loretta demanded, looking down at herself.
"Suspicion," Georgie answered. "Make your interest just a tad bit subtle. Act like your average gold-digging, high maintenance harpy, but keep at least a bit of mystery. Just get him away from his bodyguards…"
"And we'll do the rest," said Emery, thumping a hand on Victor's chest.
Victor jerked a thumb back behind him towards the lounge. "Em and I'll get a table in a private corner. Try and lure him there and do whatever you have to do to get rid of that tie."
Loretta nodded and Georgie turned back to Victor and Emery. "Right, have these." She handed them a couple of earpieces, which they took and began to affix to their ears. "I'll be waiting with the car. If something goes awry and you've got to make a quick break for it, I'll be around back in a flash, so head that way. Are we clear?" Victor and Emery both nodded, and Georgie returned the gesture before turning and heading off.
Emery looked to Loretta. "It's your show now, Loretta. Go on ahead of us. Do you remember what he looks like?"
Loretta smirked and began to walk. "I ain't gonna forget a face like that. Don't you worry none, precious—I got this one in the bag."
They watched her walk away and Victor pulled his eyes in self-directed exasperation from her ass before shaking his head vigorously. "She's sure confident."
"That makes two of us," Emery said.
"Make that three," Georgie's voice came buzzing into Victor's ear and he touched at the earpiece carefully. "Am I coming in alright?"
"Perfectly," Emery replied. He looked to Victor with questioning eyes.
"That's four for four," Victor relented.
Emery smiled triumphantly and beckoned him onward with a head toss.
Inside the Fairway was a different affair than Victor had anticipated. It wasn't quite as high class, mostly dark and only lit by the soft amber glow of table candles and dimmed wall lights. Slow, bass-heavy music slightly more reminiscent of a club was pulsating around them amid the chatter of about a hundred voices while they squeezed past bodies into the main space heading towards the bar. This would work in their favor: dark and loud was a good cover. Vic
tor made his way in after Emery to an empty space at the bar before leaning over it. "You see him?"
Emery did a subtle sweep and leaned an elbow on the bar top. "Balcony level, far right."
Victor didn't turn. "He alone?"
"No. He's got two men with him."
Victor turned to Emery but let his eyes skirt up in the indicated direction. Malcom was lounging on a long black sofa with what Victor presumed to be his two bodyguards sitting on his left. Loretta was already making her way up the stairs to the upper level with a drink in hand and was making a decent show of playing it casual. She smiled coyly at various patrons, sipping a Rob Roy and seating herself a few dozen feet away from Malcom's company while she looked around as if waiting for a friend to show. "Bait's on the hook," Victor noted.
Emery pretended to lean down on one hand as he touched is earpiece. "She's in position. Hopefully she catches his eye."
"How many men's he got with him?" Georgie's voice returned.
"Two," Emery replied.
"What do they look like?"
Victor made a face. "Why?"
"Humor me."
"One's tall and built. Got a mustache," Emery relayed. "The other's younger, maybe early thirties, balding."
"Keates and Preston…We're not dealing with anyone terribly significant, then."
Victor had to wonder who would qualify as significant. "Come on. Let's take one of those booths up there."
The balcony portion of the lounge was somewhat quieter than the downstairs area where most people stuck close to the bar. Victor and Emery managed to get a small booth back in an upper alcove behind some big, god-awful copper horse statue around which Emery assured him he had an unobstructed view of their target. Victor sat across from him with his back turned to Malcom. Emery sipped conservatively at the Scotch he'd ordered from the bar downstairs and kept his gaze distant. "Hasn't seemed to spot her just yet."