So there you have it. why I hotfooted it to the U.S.
I took an evening?ight to Miami. On the?rst leg out of the U.K., I slept for hours. I dreamed of people screaming. After transferring planes in New York, the nightmare was with me still. I couldn't sleep, so sat staring out the window. Surreal cloud formations were a mild distraction. They piled all the way down the East Coast. Rink hadn't been exaggerating; storms were raging across Florida.
The air-conditioned terminal tricked me. I stepped out into rain, which I was used to, but the cloying humidity slapped my face like a hot rag.
Damp with the rain and wringing wet with sweat beneath my clothes, I walked toward Jared Rington's Porsche Boxster with a grimace of greeting for the big guy. Christ, I hadn't seen the brute in two years. Rink pressed a button and dropped the passenger-side window.
"What's with all the bags, Hunter?" he asked, nodding at the two I carried. "Figuring on staying a month?"
"As long as it takes."
"Fine by me."
I nodded at him. "Are you gonna invite me in or do I stand out here all night getting even wetter?"
"S'long as you don't get any stains on the upholstery," Rink said.
I checked out the Porsche, then looked down at my sodden clothing. "Maybe I'd best take a taxi," I said.
"The hell you will. Jump in. Toss your bags on the back shelf… if they'll?t. Otherwise you're gonna have to keep them on your knee. That's the problem with these beauties-no trunk space."
"Not much room for anything."
"I didn't buy a Porsche for its capacious luggage-handling qualities," Rink said.
"You got it to impress the young ladies, huh?" I clambered in, clutching one bag to my chest.
"Yup. But to be honest, I don't score as often as I used to in my old pickup truck."
Previously clean-shaven, he now sported what looked like a hairy caterpillar on his top lip. He caught me staring at it. He checked himself out in the rearview mirror. "What's wrong with my mustache?"
"Makes you look like a porn star," I said.
Rink grinned unabashedly. "Yeah, so I've been told. But then again," he puffed out his chest, "I've also got the goods of a porn star."
"Dream on, Casanova," I said. "Don't forget, I've seen you in the showers."
"Yeah," Rink agreed. "But you're forgettin' what battle stress does to a man. Sometimes adrenaline makes you shrink up like that."
"Never seemed to affect me," I told him as he was pulling away from the curb.
"Trouble is," Rink said, his tone losing its bantering edge, "nothing ever seemed to affect you the way it did us mere mortals. I sometimes used to wonder if you know what fear is."
"Oh, don't you worry," I said. "There were plenty of times I was scared to death."
"It didn't show."
"It was there, Rink. I just didn't let it show."
We joined a freeway headed west. "I made a coupla calls," Rink said as our journey took us toward Tampa. "Spoke to an old friend out in Little Rock. You don't know him. Harvey Lucas. Ex-military. A good man. I worked alongside him during Desert Storm. Met him again by chance a few years back an' kept in touch since. He's done some diggin' around for me."
"So what's he come up with?"
"Not much. First day on the job."
"Anything's a help."
"He went to see this Louise woman."
"And?"
"She wasn't exactly friendly. Said she'd speak to nobody but you."
I nodded. Her reluctance made sense. "In her letter, she said that John had been acting strange, afraid of something. She could also be scared. I suppose she's not going to say too much to a stranger asking about John's whereabouts."
"Even after he mentioned your name, she wouldn't give Harvey diddlysquat," Rink said. "But he was able to set up a meeting with her. Tomorrow afternoon, three o'clock, after she gets off work. Another thing he found out: seems your brother liked to gamble."
Yeah? That was quite an understatement. "You think it's because of the gambling he's gone missing?"
"Could be. By all accounts he's left a large IOU with a local shark called Sigmund Petoskey. Petoskey's not the most forgiving of people. Could be a good starting-off point to see what he's got to say for himself."
"As good a point as any," I agreed.
"I remember Petoskey from years ago," Rink said. "A no-good punk with delusions of grandeur. Siggy likes to think of himself as some kinda new world Godfather type. He's gathered a gang of scum around him to do his head bashing when the punters are a little slow to pay up. Maybe John's simply had the good sense to get out with all his limbs intact."
"What's Petoskey into?"
"He's into all sorts. Got hisself a good cover as a businessperson. Real estate. Used-car dealerships. Those kinda things. But he makes most of his money from the gambling and corruption."
"Corruption?" I asked.
"Yup. Has a few names in local government by the balls. Certain cops won't touch him, either."
"What's he like?"
"A punk of the highest order," Rink said. "But I suppose with a gang behind him he's dangerous enough. To someone who's easily frightened, that is."
"Yeah, just like every other asshole we ever went up against," I noted.
Rink often seems to know what I'm thinking. "I've got the guns and stuff back at the condo," he said. "Petoskey won't give us squat unless we show him we mean business."
I nodded at his foresight. We both knew that when you went up against someone like Petoskey or Shank you had to show them that you weren't about to take any shit from them. Shank could be intimidated by a nasty promise, but in a land where every other blue-rinsed grandma toted a sidearm, you had to bring something even nastier to the negotiating table.
"Does Harvey know where Petoskey is?"
"I've got him on it. By the time we arrive in Arkansas, he'll be able to tell you where Petoskey squats down to take a dump… and at what time."
I said, "All I need to know is where he'll be this time tomorrow."
"Leave it with me. I'll give Harvey another call as soon as we get back to my place."
"Sure," I said.
Business sorted, Rink turned to me. A smile lit up his features. "It's good you're here, Hunter." "Good to be here."