Jouliern sat in the middle of the blue sheet, his hands tied behind his back, but his ankles free. Bye-bye held his Cougar on him steadily from three paces away and, at points when Bye-bye had leant over or turned, Jouliern had noticed the sheathed machete and knife tucked in the back of his belt.
Jouliern knew the routine well enough. He’d be shot with the Cougar, his body chopped into pieces, the whole mess then wrapped in the blue plastic and thrown into the furnace. Within forty minutes there’d be absolutely no trace of him. Jouliern’s stomach sank at the thought of it.
He looked up, trying to inject a hopeful tone into his voice. ‘You kill me — you’re not going to find out who else was in on it with me. You think I did the whole thing alone?’
Bye-bye smiled tightly. ‘You know there’s no deals on something like this. You know the score, George.’
‘I know.’ Jouliern’s tone sank back as he arched an eyebrow. ‘So, you’re saying you don’t want to know who else was involved?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Bye-bye contemplated his shoes for a second. ‘Look, if you tell me who else was in with you — the best I can offer is to make it quick and clean. Painless.’
Now it was Jouliern’s turn to look down, contemplating. But when he looked up again, his stare was icy.
‘Fuck you… that’s what I say.’ Then, twisting himself as he rose up without warning, he lunged head-first towards Bye-bye, his voice rising to a scream. ‘FUCK YOU!…FUCK Y-’
Bye-bye took him down with two shots before he’d moved a yard. Didn’t even get time to deliver his favourite words.
‘That was good,’ Malastra commented when Bye-bye returned and explained what had happened. ‘So he got his quick and painless death without having to give us any names?’
Bye-bye shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Happened so quick, boss.’
Malastra held his stare on him a moment longer. All RAM and no hard-drive; but the advantage was that by the time of Bye-bye’s next cheeseburger, he’d have forgotten all about killing George Jouliern. He’d sleep easy that night.
‘Okay.’ Malastra waved him away, his gaze shifting back to his computer screen.
His eyes narrowed as the first image of the Bay Tree Casino floor came up on the screen. He’d have to find out who else Jouliern had been involved with by tracing who he’d met over the past year, and what might have passed between them — particularly any envelopes.
‘And one of the key questions raised is always why they wanted to die? You think all of that’s going to happen without your son ever finding out?’
‘It’ll only be the first year or so, I can keep it hidden from him for that time. Besides, as you say, and I also know from bitter past experience — Larry is always so close-mouthed. No way is he going to admit that his wanting to die is down to his son not making contact. He’s going to say just what he told you: that he’s simply sick of facing more time in prison, and this is his going to God. His “Ascension Day”.’
As much as Joshua Durrant tried to shake the conversation he had overheard loose from his head over the following days, it kept re-playing.
He tapped fast and furiously at the keyboard: Frank G1427, FrankG4217, Frank G7412…
Frank was a good enough guy, and that wasn’t Joshua simply sharing his mother’s standpoint because he’d been good to them; Joshua liked him because Frank gave him quality time when needed and accepted him as if he was his own. But there were times when Frank’s reasoning ran thin, and more often than not it involved Josh’s father.
Joshua had accepted at the time his mom’s and Frank’s reasoning over the e-mails, and the last thing he’d want to do is upset them or cause any problems. But now with what he’d overheard, his father wanting to die unless he sent more e-mails — that smashed through every possible rulebook, was something he couldn’t bear for a second being responsible for. And what Frank and his mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
FG2417, FLG2417, FLG7412, FG7412, FG1427, FG4217…
‘Are you okay there, Josh?’ his mom’s voice trailed from the kitchen.
His hands paused on the keyboard, heart thumping in his chest. ‘Yes, fine, Mom.’
‘It’s nice to see you getting down to your homework so early… but you do seem to be putting in a lot on this project.’
‘I… I’ve got to finish by the end of the week — I’m already late with it.’
Frank had password-blocked all internet access. Josh had fed in over a hundred possible keywords in the half hour before Frank got in the night before — mostly around Frank’s name, initials and birth-date — without success, and now he was on Frank’s lucky numbers. Hopefully his mom wasn’t getting suspicious. He looked at intervals over his shoulder as he resumed tapping. The computer was in a small recess in the hallway — but even if she came out from the kitchen, she probably wouldn’t know the difference between his searching for entry keywords and his school project work. Just in case, to one side he had a project page with the Civil War and Paul Revere to click on and cover.
He tried another batch of combinations and glanced anxiously at his watch. Another six or seven minutes, then he’d have to quit until the next night. But as he continued, he started to sense the futility: he might have thousands more possibilities to work through, and even if he hit gold, while he could delete the e-mails sent, how on earth was he going to cover-up the replies? Unless they arrived in the half an hour before Frank got home, he was sunk.
His hands slowed on the keyboard. He’d give it his best shot that night, but if there was still no breakthrough, tomorrow he’d approach Danny Thorne, one of his closest school-friends. And, the resolve made, his hands picked up speed again on the keyboard, becoming suddenly a furious race against time to find the password, because he knew now this would probably be his last opportunity… FrankLG4217, FrankLG2417, FrankLG7412…
Or maybe it was his and his mom’s initials or the first three letters of their names — combined with Frank’s lucky numbers.
Joshua continued working through the combinations, and was over halfway through when the screen-door suddenly slamming made him jump. He’d got so engrossed that he hadn’t even heard Frank’s car pull up. His heart beating wildly, his hand trembling and suddenly clammy on the mouse, he quickly clicked off the password page and clicked on Paul Revere.
The document leapt to the forefront just a second before the door swung open and Frank stepped into the hallway.
‘Like FortKnox. Four heavy dead bolts on the door as I was let in. And, as you suspected, motion alarms in the main lounge and the hallway.’
At his end of the line, Nel-M nodded thoughtfully as Barry Lassitter ran through his visit to Truelle’s apartment. The main factors that had stopped Nel-M simply breaking in and planting the bug himself.
‘He hovered for a bit, watching me, but he had a coffee in his hand — so I nodded to it, “smells nice”. He offered me one, and I finished up while he was back in the kitchen.’
‘And he took the bait that his phone had been bugged?’
‘Yeah. Held it up for him to see. Exact duplicate of what I’d just wired in while he was making my coffee.’
‘Good going. Let me know when the other one’s done.’
Lassitter’s return call came at 11.43 the next morning. ‘Just got the nod from Mo. Everything went fine at his office, too. No hitches.’
‘Thanks.’ Nel-M hardly paused for breath before calling Vic Farrelia. ‘That’s a go now for lines two and three as well.’ Then he called Adelay Roche. ‘My man just phoned. Truelle’s just been done too — home and office. So we’re live on all fronts.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ Roche commented. ‘Now we might be able to better decide just who needs to be dead.’