He was right. Most of the gold coins Sean had seen were from the time of the great Spanish empire. Usually, the surface of those pieces had seen a great deal of wear. Occasionally he would find one that looked almost new, but those were extremely rare.
“And your friend didn’t tell you where he found this?” Sean pointed at the screen as he asked the question.
“Actually, he did. Said it was a family heirloom of sorts, passed down through a few generations. I guess he wanted to see if he could get anything for it, times being like they are.”
Sean thought for a moment. If the coin was something a person would send a professional hit man to kill for, it was probably worth looking into. The itch he’d been trying to ignore started to creep its way back into his mind. He thought about the life he’d adopted. He’d gone from the high intensity world of international government work to running a surf shop on the Florida panhandle. It was what he wanted. At least he thought it was. If that was the case, why did he always find himself plunging headfirst back into mysteries? Maybe it was an internal conflict he couldn’t explain. He hated the stress that came with being shot at, but he enjoyed the challenge of figuring something out.
Throw on top of it that Sean was good at what he did, and it seemed only natural he follow the breadcrumbs. “Do you think your friend would be willing to answer a few questions?”
“Sure,” Charlie rolled his shoulders. “I don’t see why not. You want me to call him, or do you just want to email him?”
“Actually,” Sean stopped his host, “I’m going to need to do this in person. Does he live far away?”
“Do you consider two hours to be far away?”
“Not when something’s piqued my interest. Where are we going?”
“We?” Charlie shook his head and set down his now empty glass. “I don’t feel like making that drive.”
“Well, it’s that or stay here and die.” Sean raised a playful eyebrow. He was only half kidding.
“Very funny.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. You have someone to watch your store. You’ll have a good time. I promise.”
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Charlie huffed cynically.
Sean grinned. “I’m going to guess we’re heading to Knoxville.”
Charlie stared at his guest with a hint of irritation. “Fine, Sherlock. We’re going to Memphis. You’re an irritating little cuss, you know that?”
“Yep. It’s one of the reasons you love me.” Sean’s childish grin caused Charlie to shake his head. “Well, I did save your life. So there’s that.”
“That you did. And thank you.” Charlie thought for a second. “Wait, how in the world did you even find me?”
Sean’s face scrunched as if he was keeping a secret. “It was dumb luck, actually. I was on the way to meet you and just happened to see you getting ushered to the car as I passed by. It was dumb luck that I arrived when I did.”
“Well I’m glad you’re punctual.” Something about his comment smacked of Charlie’s trademark lack of joy. There was another pause before he said, “What should we do with this thing? Ditch it somewhere?”
“I think I know just the place.”
Chapter 4
Nicholas Petrov clenched his teeth against the dull pain resonating from his hip and ribs. The car hadn’t been going very fast when it hit him, but when a human body plays chicken with two tons of steel, the body doesn’t have much of a chance.
He wondered if one of his ribs had been broken. His left cheek was also swollen, with a thin blood line across it, just below the jaw. He hadn’t seen what happened, but he assumed the man who’d struck him with the car also struck him with his boot. The thought sent a fresh surge of anger through his body. He swallowed hard and leaned his head back against the rear window of the pickup truck.
Getting out of the Cadillac’s trunk had been difficult. His hands were bound behind his back, and he couldn’t see much except for the glowing emergency handle dangling from above. He’d regained consciousness when the door had slammed shut. While still disoriented, he knew there wasn’t much time. Petrov wriggled around, contorting his body so he could reach the trunk latch and make his escape. He’d been fortunate that the car was still bumping along the old dirt road near the barn when he jumped out, pulling the trunk shut as he rolled onto the ground and disappeared into a ditch. He waited there in the rain for several minutes, making sure both men were gone. One was riding a motorcycle, but he hadn’t got a good look at him.
Cautiously, Petrov made his way down the country road until he found a small farmhouse with a giant red barn a hundred yards away. Inside the barn, he discovered a rack of tools, one of which happened to be a large set of fence cutters. After several attempts, he freed himself from the bonds on his wrists and peeked back outside the barn door. A beat-up old pickup truck sat in the gravel driveway, but all indications were that no one was home. He figured it was the family’s spare vehicle. Whether it was or not didn’t matter, so long as no one was home. The last thing he needed was some farmer’s wife calling the police. His mission was supposed to draw as little attention as possible.
He sprinted to the driver’s side door of the truck and was pleasantly surprised to find the keys conveniently left in the ignition. His eyes darted around, making sure no one was watching. All he heard was the rain falling on a canopy nearby. Even the birds had taken shelter during the deluge. With no signs of life, Petrov hopped in the truck and revved the engine to life. He would head back to the only place that he knew in the area: Charlie Fowler’s home.
Upon arriving, he saw the man who’d struck him with the car standing inside the garage turned home, conversing with Fowler. Surely the old man was telling this new guy all the details about what happened and what Petrov was after. He would have preferred to keep things less complicated, only pursuing one target at a time. No matter. He would make them both pay.
Petrov’s eyes squinted again. He had suffered worse pain before. He’d been shot a few times, stabbed once, and it wasn’t the first time he’d been kicked or punched. Still, anger boiled inside him. No one ever got the drop on Petrov. He gave himself a little slack because it had been pouring rain. There had been too many variables. But how had the man behind the wheel found them? It was a lonely backcountry road. He’d not noticed anyone following them. He tried to recollect anything strange about any of the few cars he’d noticed on the outskirts of the city. Nothing came to mind.
He winced again as he took in a deep breath.
His employer would be livid.
This was to be a simple assignment. Find the man who had put the picture of the coin on the Internet, question him as to the location of the coin, execute him, and then retrieve the object.
Petrov had performed much more difficult tasks when serving in the Russian military. And he’d done far worse than what he’d done to the old man. Now, that was going to change. He would make the old man suffer, along with whoever had struck him with the car.
During his time in the Russian army, Nicholas Petrov had earned a reputation for cruelty. He would put that reputation to the test soon enough. First, he had to figure out where his targets were going.
The huge Russian had never attended college, choosing to go straight to the military after finishing secondary school. While he didn’t possess academic intelligence, he displayed incredible intuition and street smarts. Something else he made strong use of was patience.