After leaving the gas station he drove to the address he’d gotten for Weale from the DMV. Spruce Street was a nice residential neighborhood. Not ostentatious, but definitely upper class. There didn’t seem to be anyone home, but there was really no way to be sure.
He pulled over at the next block and called Mia. “What are you doing?”
“Hunter and I are running away to Las Vegas.” The smile in her voice evoked an answering one from him. “I’ll introduce him to the best clubs, and he’ll help me clean up at the blackjack tables.”
“You should probably know that he loses more than he wins.”
“In that case we’ll just stick to the clubs.”
An elderly lady walked by on the sidewalk with a tiny fur ball on a leash. She gave Jude’s car a long suspicious stare. “I want you to see what you can find on Eldon Weale.” After the woman passed his vehicle, she turned a few times to look back at him. “Marital status, family…try the archives in the local paper.”
“I can do that after finishing decoding the emails from Weale to Danny Munson.”
That snagged his attention. “You decoded them?”
Her tone turned somber. “It took me a couple hours, but I figured out the pattern he was using. It helped that most of the messages were similar. They were orders for K-Sleep, LSD and Ecstasy, in varying quantities. I’m not done yet, but so far I’ve found orders dating back for the last eight years.”
Jude absorbed that information. He didn’t have to ask what had gone through her mind when she had made that discovery. He knew the trauma of being drugged by The Collector still lingered.
“There’s nothing in the orders except for street drugs. But he had more. We all took birth control pills daily. They were with our food. He had to have used sexual performance drugs, and he forced us to take pregnancy tests each month. Twice he gave one of the other women an abortifacient. So if he wasn’t getting those medications from Tuttle through Munson, maybe there’s a pharmacist in the area he was dealing with on the side.”
He hated to douse that hopeful tone in her voice. “I doubt it. It would be risky, and there are enough illegal online pharmacies he could order from anonymously.”
“Well, at least we’ll get enough information from these files to bury Munson for his part in this scheme.” Mia was silent a moment. “I’m not sure how you can use the cloned hard drives for evidence, though.”
“Leave that to me.” When the time came there were plenty of ways to get the information in the right hands, no matter how it was arrived at. “Let me know when you have more information on Weale. I’ll see you soon.”
“Jude?”
He heard her voice an instant before he disconnected. “Yes?”
“You’ve got ten more hours. Keep being smart.”
That drew a laugh from him. “I think I’ve got ten more hours in me.” He ended the call and started the car, noticing that down the street the older lady was making a return trip with her dog. He needed to move on or she’d likely contact the police to report a strange vehicle. As he drove by her, however, his thoughts weren’t on the woman.
He was wondering whether Mia would consider his next move smart.
* * * *
Anthony hissed out a breath as one of his sales attendants knocked on his half-open door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Davis. But there’s a customer on the floor asking for Eldon, and I haven’t been able to locate him.”
Pursing his lips, he pushed away from the inventory spreadsheet he’d been perusing. “Perhaps I can assist.” Weale couldn’t be found because Anthony had sent him to South Dakota to take care of some shipments. “Is it one of our regulars?” Many of the guests for tomorrow’s party had arrived. The hotel management had informed him earlier that day that it was booked. Although he and Mother always opened the showroom for any interested guests the day after the party, it wouldn’t be unusual for someone to want a sneak peek at the merchandise.
“I don’t recognize him, sir, but perhaps he’s an online client.”
Highly likely. Anthony rose from his desk, smoothing his tie. The bulk of their business took place over the Internet. “I’ll see to him.” He followed the woman out onto the showroom floor and took a moment to study the profile of the man half turned away studying the floor to ceiling glassed-in showcase of antique masks. “Hello.” His voice imbued with genial charm, he approached the stranger. “I’m Anthony Davis. I’m afraid Mr. Weale is not in the office at the moment. Perhaps I can help you.”
The man spoke as he turned to face him. Anthony completely missed his words. The sight of that scarred visage froze his mind.
The bodyguard. He gave himself a mental shake. Or at least the owner of the agency that had provided services for Eleven after she’d slipped away from him. Jude Bishop. He had never known how she’d managed to make her way back home, but she’d been easy enough to keep tabs on for several months after she did. He’d learned the name of the security agency she’d used at the time. When she’d disappeared from DC Anthony had been desperate for information. But even Munson hadn’t been able to break into the Bishop Enterprises’ computer network.
And now the man was here, in his showroom, just days after Eleven had evaded him yet again. Anthony didn’t believe in coincidences.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”
Bishop gestured toward the case of masks. “Interesting display. Are they for sale?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” His tone was droll. “It’s quite a rare collection, started by my father.” But utilized by Anthony. The thought brought a secret flicker of amusement. “We would, however, be glad to take your name and conduct a search for an item of your specification.”
The man nodded thoughtfully. Moved a few steps to examine a fourteenth century jewel encrusted chalice. “Maybe I’ll talk to Mr. Weale about doing so when he gets back. When do you expect him?”
Making an instant decision, Anthony lied smoothly, “I’m afraid I’m not quite sure. Eldon has taken a few days off to go fishing. He wasn’t clear about when he would return.” Because he’d text the man the moment Bishop left and make sure he didn’t show up until he was given the word.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bishop’s flat green stare gave away nothing. “Maybe you can help me. If I were to buy this.” Anthony winced as he picked up the chalice carelessly. “Could I get it shipped to my home?”
“Yes, of course.” He reached out and took the item from the other man. Set it back on the shelf. “You could get overnight door-to-door delivery. We see to the shipping arrangements ourselves.”
“What shipping company do you use?”
Unease shot down Anthony’s spine. What was the man up to? Why was he here? “We’re willing to use whatever method the client prefers, as long as it comes with insurance and delivery guarantees. Is there something here that you’re interested in, Mr…?”
With a humorless smile the man said, “Sam Fielding. And I’d want to be certain my purchase arrived in one piece. I’ve heard some unsavory things about outfits like yours using mail drop services to cut down on expenses.”
The incredulous laugh he gave wasn’t totally forced. “We deal with priceless treasures, Mr. Fielding. I can assure you we treat them with the respect they deserve. We would never handle them so carelessly.”
“Good to know.” Bishop moved away, pausing to study an original Faberge egg. “My contact was certain that Weale uses a mail drop. Perhaps he has a business on the side.”
“I couldn’t say.” Forcing the words around the knot in his throat took effort. “Our employees’ private lives are their own. Please feel free to browse.” He moved away. “And let us know if you’re interested in something.”
Without undue haste Anthony returned to his office. Closed the door. But once inside the façade was dropped. He took out his cell. Noticed distantly that his fingers were trembling. He sent a text to Weale.
No pickup. Don’t come back until further notice
. Then he made a call. “I need you here immediately.”
Bishop had left long before Sully appeared. But Anthony showed the man the security footage from the time he’d been in the store. “This man,” he tapped the screen, “has some information that could be quite valuable to me.” His stomach quivered in excitement. It would be quite valuable indeed if Bishop could be forced to reveal what he knew about Eleven’s location. And Anthony had an arsenal of tools at his disposal that would be quite persuasive. “I need him picked up,
discreetly,
and brought to my property. I’ll tell you where to meet me. Take Eppley and Donaldson. You can get his vehicle information from the exterior cameras.” He thought for a long moment. “Listen carefully. This is how you’ll do it.”
* * * *
After a couple more hours spent poking around—both in the town and on the web—Jude headed back to the hotel. The lot had gotten even fuller in his absence and he cruised the area around the building before finally pulling in to an empty slot.
Locking the vehicle, he crossed the blacktopped expanse toward the side entrance. A man was hurrying down the sidewalk outside the building. “Hey, Weale!” He appeared to be hailing a second man who was disappearing around the corner of the building.
Jude changed direction. Followed the duo to the back. His research had located only one Weale in town. If the man had a family, they hadn’t shown up on any search he’d done. Intrigued, he rounded the corner to see the two strangers, heads together, ducking behind a line of Dumpsters. He couldn’t make out their conversation from this distance, but from the pitch of their voices it was animated.
He got as close as the back entrance using the sidewalk. But the men were another hundred feet beyond him. Sometimes a direct approach was best. Spying a fast food cup on the ground, he bent down to scoop it up, and ambled for the nearest Dumpster as if to dispose of it.
“…telling you…out of sight.” Far from the lively pitch of their conversation earlier, now the men’s voices were barely a whisper. Jude took only a moment to consider. He knew what Weale looked like. It would just take a few seconds to discover if he was here. He moved around the trash container far enough to glance behind it. Heard the scrape of a shoe behind him and immediately realized his mistake.
A body hit him hard, propelling him the rest of the way around the Dumpster to land with bone-jarring force against the bricked exterior of the hotel. He aimed a vicious kick at his attacker’s groin, peripherally aware of the presence of the other two he’d been following. Ambush. His brain had time to register the fact before instinct took over. He ducked a roundhouse punch from one of the men, but wasn’t quick enough to dodge a fist in the gut from another. The three spread in an arc in front of him, their intent silent but unmistakable. Warily, Jude kept the wall at his back. It would be a mistake to let one of them get behind him. He took a good look at the three. None were Eldon Weale. Of course they weren’t. A quick visual assessment told him all he needed to know from there. They all had the bulked up physique of hired muscle. He watched their eyes, for their nonverbal communication with each other. The biggest one was a punk. The shortest a follower. It was the one on the left that Jude was going to have to watch the closest. Take him out, and the other two would be clean up.
There were false starts. Testing practice swings. Jude easily ducked the first blow. Landed a right hook to the punk. Absorbed a kick to his thigh that sent shockwaves of pain eddying down it. Then the three spread out. He recognized their intent even as they all rushed forward as one.
He hoped like hell he was still standing to perform that clean up.
* * * *
A heavy weight crashed against the door. With a cautionary glance Mia’s way, Hunter surged to his feet. Crossed to the door to peer out the peephole. Swiftly unlocking it, he pulled the door open.
A body fell inside the room. “Jude!” Mia launched herself from her chair in front of the computer and rushed to his side. Hunter took a careful glance up and down the hallway before shutting and resecuring the door. “My God! What happened to you?”
“I’m okay.” He rose as far as his knees. Seemed to lack the strength to stand. “Probably…looks…worse…than it is.”
Blood was seeping from his mouth, making the words sound garbled. Leaving him to Hunter for the moment, Mia dashed to a bathroom. Hurried back with several wet washcloths, anxiety twisting in her stomach. “Here you go, buddy.” Hunter was helping him to his feet. Leading him over to a couch. “You coughing blood? Puking?”
Jude collapsed on the sofa. It was a measure of his injuries that he didn’t even protest when Mia began wiping the blood from his face. There was so much of it. A shudder worked through her at the thought of the abuse that had caused that kind of damage. “You need stitches.” The cut on his forehead, and another on his chin gaped open and were oozing sullenly even with the wet cloths pressed against them. She looked at Hunter. “We have to get him to a doctor.”
The operative’s expression was properly concerned. But he didn’t rush to agreement. “How’s your vision?” There was an ugly raw abrasion at Jude’s left temple. “How bad is the headache?”
Jude took one of the wet rags from her and held it to his mouth. Spit blood into it. “No double vision or blurriness.” He spoke slowly, but Mia was relieved he seemed coherent. “Losing vision in the left one, though.”
“Yeah, it’s swelling shut.” Hunter reached for a wet cloth from the pile Mia had brought and crossed to the ice bucket the staff refilled daily. Wrapping several cubes in it, he returned and pressed it to Jude’s eye. “Keep ice on it. It’ll go black regardless, but you can reduce the swelling.”
“This does not meet the definition of being smart.” Mia’s voice shook violently as she dabbed at the cuts on his face. “Who did this to you?” Efficiently Hunter shoved Jude’s bloodstained shirt up to examine his torso. Gave a low whistle when he did.
“Someone really worked you over. Hope you got in at least a few good shots before you lay down and let him use you for a punching bag.”