Janice kept her eyes on the two coffins. ‘Why did you come here?’
‘To pay my respects.’ Lock flicked his head in the direction of the hothead. ‘Who’s he?’
Janice’s eyes flicked from Lock to the two hulking JTTF SUVs. ‘Why don’t you ask your friends?’
‘Don’t you think things have gotten too serious for us to be playing any more games?’
‘Why are you really here?’
‘Answer my question and I’ll tell you.’
‘That’s Don,’ Janice said. ‘He wasn’t really part of our group. He didn’t agree with our way of protesting.’
‘More of a direct action kind of a guy?’
‘He’s been involved in some liberations.’
‘Liberations’ was the term used by the activists to describe their forcible entry into labs that used animals, in order to free those animals. Occasionally they’d hit farms as well, usually ones with vast sheds of battery chickens.
‘So what’s he doing here?’
‘Same as you.’
‘This guy bothering you?’ said someone, tapping Lock’s shoulder for emphasis.
Lock half turned to see the guy in the brown tofu jacket. He was tall, but he struggled to be imposing. Lock ignored him.
He tapped again. Harder this time. ‘Why don’t you leave her alone?’
‘Don, it’s OK. This is Ryan Lock — you know, the guy who saved me.’
Don looked awkward and studied the ground. ‘Guess I owe you a thank you.’
As apologies went it settled somewhere on the wrong side of grudging.
‘Sure you would have done the same,’ Lock said.
‘Yeah, I would have.’
‘So, what do you know about Josh Hulme?’
Don blinked at Lock’s sudden shift of direction. ‘I know what his father does. You live by the sword, you-’
Lock moved in quickly on Don, making sure he had eye contact and didn’t break it. ‘We’re talking about a young boy here. I’d appreciate it if you gave my question some proper consideration.’
Janice edged her chair up between the two men. ‘There’s no need for this. Especially not here. And not today.’
‘Under normal circumstances, I’d agree. But as long as Josh Hulme’s missing, I’d argue that normal rules no longer apply. Especially as I think you, and your buddies, might know where he is.’ Lock grabbed Don’s wrist and twisted, just enough to make it interesting. ‘Now, Don, maybe we could start with your full name.’
No one moved from either of the two blacked-out SUVs, although Lock would have bet the farm that they had shotgun mikes catching every word of the exchange. Their decision not to intervene didn’t surprise him, even though he’d just committed assault. Government agencies were big on outsourcing these days and Lock would do as well as any Syrian jailer with a cattle prod and some time on his hands. Plus he wasn’t quite as restricted by the niceties.
‘Why the hell should I tell you anything? You’re not a cop.’
‘That’s right, Don, I’m not. Which means I’m not bound by proper procedure.’
Don glared at Lock, his eyes full of hatred.
‘Stop it!’ shouted Janice. ‘We’ve just buried our parents!’
Lock dropped Don’s wrist. ‘What do you mean “we”?’
‘Don’s my kid brother.’
Twenty-four
Lock wondered how much of an extremist you had to be to fill the role of the Stokes family black sheep. It did kind of explain some of the young man’s over-righteous anger, though. He almost regretted adding injury to insult by hurting Don’s wrist. Then he thought of Josh Hulme, and his momentary feeling of sympathy ebbed away, as quickly as it had appeared.
Don worried at his wrist. ‘Man, I could use a drink.’
The way he said it, Lock assumed he wasn’t talking about a lactose-free protein shake. Lock had always assumed the animal rights crowd weren’t much for liquor. Lentil casseroles, for definite. Cheap whisky, not so much.
‘There’s a place about five blocks from here. I can give you a ride,’ he offered.
Don seemed unsure.
‘He’s OK,’ said Janice.
Don still said nothing. Lock didn’t want to push it, but this was a great opportunity. Get a few drinks in him and who knew what Don Stokes would cough up?
‘Listen, I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you back there, man. I’m sorry.’
Don almost managed a smile. ‘Forget it, you saved my sister’s life.’
‘We good?’ asked Lock, offering a hand.
Don shook with his left. ‘I’m usually right-handed, but some asshole almost broke it.’
In the language of men, that was a yes. The tension between them lifted.
Lock helped Janice back down the slope. It had never occurred to him before, but if getting a wheelchair up a slope was an effort, getting it back down was an adventure. At the bottom, he could see Ty fully engaged in the seemingly impossible task of trying to make it look like he had nothing to do with Lock’s Toyota while standing right next to it.
Lock made the introductions. Once those were out of the way, Lock, Ty and Don helped Janice into the car and then spent the next ten minutes collapsing the wheelchair and trying to load it into the trunk.
‘Shoulda brought one of the Yukons,’ Ty observed helpfully as they set off, the FBI surveillance vehicle slotting in behind them.
Lock drove, Janice next to him in the passenger seat, giving Ty and Don a chance to buddy up in the back.
‘You must really like animals, huh?’ said Ty.
‘Guess I do.’
‘I had a dog once,’ Ty continued, earning a please don’t go there glance from Lock in the rear-view. ‘Man, I loved that dog.’
‘That the one who died at a ripe old age?’ Lock asked, pressing down on the gas, eager to get to the bar.
‘Nah, I’m thinking of a different one. Y’know, the pit bull. I’m sure I told you this story, right?’
‘Which is why I don’t need to hear it again.’
Lock glanced in the mirror. The JTTF SUV was still behind them, keeping the regulation half-block distance.
Ty smiled at Don. ‘Lock gets real emotional when I tell it. It was kind of an Old Shep type of situation.’
‘Well, here we are,’ interrupted Lock, turning so hard into the bar’s parking lot that Ty and Don were thrown around on the back seat.
Having helped Don wrestle the wheelchair from the truck, Lock left him to reassemble it. Then he pulled Ty out of earshot. ‘What are you doing, Tyrone? These people love animals more than they do people and you’re gonna tell him about shooting your dog?’
Ty glanced over at Don. ‘Hey, if they think I’m cold enough to shoot my own dog, maybe it’ll get them thinking about what might happen to them if they don’t cough up that kid.’
Twenty-five
Josh woke to the sound of boots in the corridor outside. He tensed as they stopped outside the door. Backing up, he found the wall. The camera whirred, its Cyclops eye tracking his movement. His breathing quickened. He glanced across to the album which lay like an accusation on the dresser.
The door began to open. Josh closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Natalya was standing in the doorway.
But how? Natalya was dead. Josh was sure she was. OK, he’d closed his eyes after the man had raised the gun. But he’d heard the shot. Followed by the splash. There had been blood at the far end of the boat.
Natalya smiled at him. ‘It’s OK, Josh. You can go home now.’
Josh stayed where he was. ‘How can I believe you after what you did?’
‘Don’t you want to go home, Josh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then come with me.’