Hobe Sound in Martin County, Florida, has a strange history. In the early quarter of the last century, the movie industry was big news in Florida. The goal of the Olympia Improvement Association was to develop Hobe Sound to build a permanent movie production centre and town in the style of Ancient Greece. For a short time, Hobe Sound was renamed Picture City. A hurricane in 1928 put paid to the plans, devastating the area and putting an end to the land boom, and the hopes of OIA came to nothing. Their legacy remained only in the names of the streets: Zeus, Saturn, Mercury, Apollo, Athena.
Strange names were nothing new to a man who went by the name of a fallen angel, but even he would have drawn the line at the Downtown Demeter Plaza. He was sitting on a terrace outside a coffee shop called Pots and Pans – complete with a welcome sign depicting a life-sized satyr blowing on a reed pipe, and the day's specials chalked across his midriff. Pan pipe music played from tinny speakers above the door, but it sounded more Peruvian than ancient Greek.
He put up with the place out of necessity. His associate had arranged the equipment for his assault on Neptune Island, and would deliver it here within the hour. In the meantime, he sat gritting his teeth, drinking coffee as strong as sump oil, and moving with the shadows under the parasol over his table.
It was late afternoon but it was still edging ninety degrees Fahrenheit, and under his voluminous coat sweat was trickling down the small of his back and pooling on the vinyl chair he was sitting on. He was uncomfortable and the wound in his thigh was screaming in protest. He wasn't very happy.
Banyan trees with their weirdly twisted trunks and branches blocked the traffic noise from nearby Athena Street. Against the harsh afternoon sunlight they looked like the silhouettes of deformed giants. The chatter of tourists and locals was muted, as if the heat leached all energy, making speech above a whisper too difficult.
He watched the people in the mall, conscious of the glances he received in turn. Here, under his parasol, he stood out like a candle flame in a dark pit. He didn't like being so visible, but at the end of the day he wasn't going to kill anyone here. So long as they turned off that damn piped music!
A fat man approached him. He had on wide flannel trousers and a black shirt with embroidered flames writhing up the sleeves. Sweat stood on his forehead like mountain dew. He carried a backpack. Dantalion acknowledged his associate. The fat man thought he controlled Dantalion, but Dantalion knew otherwise. He was simply the mule who carried Dantalion's supplies.
The man sat down, the chair legs squealing under his weight. He dropped the backpack at his feet, pushing it further under the table with a couple of none-too-subtle kicks. Dantalion hooked a strap with an ankle and pulled the bag the rest of the way. If felt heavy.
'You want coffee, Gabe?'
Gabe Wellborn swiped at his forehead with the palm of his hand, scattering droplets on the tablecloth. Dantalion scowled at the damp patches, then up at the man's sweaty face.
'Or would you prefer something a little colder?'
'Appreciate it, Dan.'
Dantalion beckoned to a waiter. The man came over as though he had all the time in the world and wasn't about to waste any of it.
'Coffee for me and whatever my friend is having.'
'Soda,' Gabe said. 'Ice. Lots of it.'
The waiter didn't bother scribbling the order into his book. Bad form, Dantalion thought. Then he wandered inside to fetch their drinks. He'd be back in about fifteen minutes, judging by his lack of urgency.
'You have what I asked for?'
Gabe nodded. 'In the bag. EMF meter. Gen-Three night-vision goggles. Sound suppressor and ammo for a ninety-two Beretta. Ketamine, plus delivery system, just as you asked.'
'Thank you.'
'Be careful, Dan. You're familiar with the suppressor and ammo; I don't have to tell you they're illegal. I wanted to bring the drugs to your attention. Ketamine's become the party drug of choice. If you're found with it, the police will have you down to the precinct quicker than you can think.'
'The police have never taken me before, Gabe, why the concern now? Any way, ketamine's an animal anaesthetic, isn't it?'
'Originally, yeah, but that doesn't stop crackheads shooting up with it. It's used these days as a human antidepressant, strictly prescription only. Has some serious hallucinogenic side effects if the wrong dosage is administered.'
'Don't worry, Gabe, I won't be using it on humans.'
'Mind if I ask you what you do want it for?'
'If I told you I'd have to kill you,' Dantalion quipped. From the shocked look on his face, Gabe didn't get the joke.
'That's your business, Dan. I just thought I could give you a nod on the correct dosages you'd need.'
'Enough will be enough.'
'Planning on a ghost hunt?' Gabe asked. 'Electromagnetic field meter. Night-vision goggles. They're standard equipment for paranormal researchers these days.'
'There might be a few ghosts around after I'm done,' Dantalion told him. 'Yours for one if you don't stop asking stupid questions.'
Gabe stopped the questions. He knew when to keep his mouth shut when he was around Dan-fucking-talion.
The waiter returned. He placed the drinks down on the table, slapped down the check. Dantalion scattered a few dollar bills in his direction. The man clucked his tongue. Reached for the notes. Dantalion resisted breaking his arm. That would make the lazy fucker a bit faster on his feet. When the waiter had retreated to a place where he could study his fingernails, Dantalion leaned towards Gabe.
'What's the latest news on Baker Island?'
'Rescue crews are still sifting through the wreckage. They haven't released official numbers – or names – of those they've found dead yet. There's a lot of media speculation, they're throwing names around like rice at a wedding. It's all guesswork cause they've nothing firm to go on. Bradley Jorgenson's refusing to speak to the police. I'm sure he'll be subpoenaed before long and then he'll have to come clean.'
Dantalion was engaged in lifting his coffee cup to his lips. Some of the coffee slopped down his coat, leaving a stain like a month-old knife wound. 'Wait a minute… Bradley Jorgenson 's refusing to speak?'
'Yeah, he's got some top-dollar attorneys holding off the cops with a verbal smokescreen. Of course that'll only go on so long; doesn't matter how much money he has, the police are conducting a homicide investigation and-'
Dantalion slammed down his cup.
'I killed Bradley Jorgenson,' Dantalion hissed. 'Have you forgotten, Gabe?'
Gabe blinked rapidly. He slumped backwards in his seat, gaining distance from the anticipated lunge he could see building in Dantalion. It never came. He hoped that Dantalion – despite his jokes – valued his associate's help too highly to give in to base anger. Emboldened by that assumption, Gabe said, 'Not according to CNN. They say that he's currently at his home on Neptune Island.'
'And the girl? Marianne Dean?'
'Yeah, she's with him.'
'Son of a bitch!'
Dantalion stood up swiftly. He ignored the pull in his wounded leg. Anger overrode the agony.
'I guess that's why the client was remiss in making payment?'
'I guess so,' Gabe said. 'Sorry, Dan. I thought you knew.'
'No, Gabe, I didn't know.' He reached into his pocket, toying with the spine of his book. Withdrew his fingers and wiped them on his coat. The book had lied to him. The numbers were all wrong. 'But it looks like I'm going to have to do something about that.'
So, Jorgenson and Marianne had both survived the explosion. As had the damn gunman who'd been sent to kill him. Now they were all making pow-wow at Neptune Island. Suddenly he wasn't so clear on how many enemies he was going to have to kill.
'You have access to a thermonuclear device, Gabe?'
Gabe sniggered. 'You're joking, right?'
'Do I look like someone with a sense of humour? There are a lot of people on Neptune Island about to die. Maybe every last one of them.'
Gabe gulped his soda in one continuous slurp. Smacking his lips, he said, 'Can't get you a nuclear missile, but call me if you need anything else, Dan.'
Dantalion stooped low, hooking the backpack with one hand.
'I've everything I need right here.'
He walked quickly away, leaving Gabe to sweat a lot more.