‘Boy, it’s blue,’ said Angel, as he stared down at the water, and it was: unnaturally so, as though a dye had been added to it. Angel decided that, even if he was the swimming kind, he wouldn’t have taken a dip in that pool. It looked like a chemical vat.
‘The pool is professionally treated every week,’ said Simeon. ‘Mr Hoyle likes his cleanliness.’
There was an edge to his voice when he spoke, a mild undertone of sarcasm. It made Louis wonder just how committed Simeon was to his boss. Louis had previously met men who were more than bodyguards to their employers, but less than friends. They were like guard dogs who grow to love the men who feed them scraps, doting on moments of affection and viewing any anger directed toward them as evidence of a failure on their part. Simeon didn’t seem like that kind of guy. This was a financial arrangement, pure and simple, and as long as Hoyle continued to put money into Simeon’s account, Simeon would continue to guard Hoyle’s life. Both parties knew exactly where they stood, and Louis guessed that both Hoyle and Simeon liked it that way.
‘Hey, is Simeon your first name or your last name?’ asked Angel.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Just trying to make conversation.’
‘You’re not very good at it,’ said Simeon.
Angel looked downcast. ‘I get that a lot.’
Louis was examining a lance point on one of the shelves. He didn’t touch it, merely moved its glass base carefully in order to view it point-on, as though it were aimed at his face.
‘It’s from a Hyksos lance,’ said Simeon. ‘They invaded Egypt seventeen hundred years before Christ and formed the Fifteenth Dynasty.’
‘You read that somewhere?’ asked Louis.
‘No, Mr Hoyle read it somewhere. He was kind enough to share the knowledge with me, and now I’m passing it on to you.’
‘Interesting. You should run tours.’ Louis turned to Simeon. ‘You work for him long?’
‘Long enough.’
‘That could be taken two ways.’
‘Guess so.’
‘Where did you serve?’
‘What makes you think I’m ex-military?’
‘I have good eyes.’
Simeon considered his reply. ‘Marines.’
‘Let me guess: Recon.’
‘No. Antiterrorist, out of Norfolk.’
Antiterrorist: that meant FAST, the Marines’ Fleet Antiterrorist Security Team, formed at the end of the 1980s to provide additional short-term protection when the threat was beyond the capabilities of the usual security forces. Simeon would have been trained in threat assessment, the preparation of security plans, guarding VIPs. Despite himself, Louis was impressed.
‘This must make a pleasant change for you,’ said Angel, joining them. ‘Now you don’t have to lift anything heavier than a wand.’ He smiled guilelessly. ‘It’s like being a fairy godfather.’
Louis had moved on to what appeared to be a dagger and ax combined, with a vicious triangular blade.
‘That’s a ko dagger-ax.’ Another man had entered the room from a door to the right. He had a full head of silver hair, neatly trimmed, and wore a long-sleeved red polo shirt and tan chinos. His shoes were brown penny loafers, scuffed and comfortable. He was lightly tanned. When he smiled, he revealed teeth that were slightly uneven, and not excessively white. His blue eyes were magnified behind the lenses of his glasses. Whatever else he was, he did not appear to be vain, or had ceased to make the more obvious concessions to vanity. The only peculiar aspect of his appearance was the pair of white gloves that covered his hands. ‘I’m Nicholas Hoyle. Welcome, gentlemen, welcome.’
He joined Louis at the shelf, clearly enjoying the opportunity to show off his collection. ‘Eleventh or tenth century B.C.,’ he continued, lifting the weapon so Louis could examine it more closely. ‘They were all the rage in Pa-Shu during the Eastern Chou, but that one originated in Shansi.’
He replaced the ax and moved on. ‘This item is interesting.’ He carefully moved a curved dagger from its plinth. ‘It’s late Shang, thirteenth to twelfth century B.C. See, there’s a rattle at the end of its hilt.’ He shook the blade gently. ‘Not for silent killing, I imagine.’
Finally, he moved on to a crude-looking ax that stood on a shelf of its own. ‘This is one of the oldest weapons I own,’ he said. ‘Hungshan, from the Liao river region of northeast China. Neolithic. Three thousand years old, at least, perhaps even four thousand or more. Here, take it.’
He handed the ax to Louis. Behind him, Angel saw Simeon stiffen slightly. Even after all these years, the ax was clearly capable of inflicting damage. It looked much more recent than it was, a testament to the skill that had gone into its construction. Louis saw that the top of the ax head had been carved to resemble an eagle. He ran the tip of his index finger along the carving.
‘It’s religious in nature,’ said Hoyle. ‘The first messenger from the Celestial Ruler was believed to have been a bird. Eagles were believed to transmit human wishes to the gods; in this case, one presumes, the death of an enemy.’
‘It’s an impressive collection,’ said Louis, returning the ax to him.
‘I began collecting when I was a boy,’ said Hoyle. ‘I started with minié balls gathered from the Kennesaw Mountain Battlefield. My father was a Civil War aficionado and liked to take us on battlefield vacations. My mother, I seem to recall, was generally unimpressed. I even created my own mix of tallow and beeswax to lubricate them, just like the soldiers did to prevent bore fouling from black powder residue. Otherwise –’
‘They’d stick in the barrel,’ Louis finished. ‘I know. I used to collect them myself.’
‘And where was that?’ asked Hoyle.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Louis. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Well,’ said Hoyle. He seemed embarrassed that he had overstepped some mark with Louis by asking about his past. It wasn’t a situation with which he appeared to be familiar. To hide his discomfort, he indicated a pair of armchairs and twin couches surrounding a low redwood table. Louis took one of the chairs, Hoyle another, while Angel sat on a couch. Alcohol was offered, but Angel and Louis declined. Instead, green tea was served, and some Japanese candies that stuck to Angel’s teeth and filled his mouth with a taste of lemon and horseradish that was not unpleasant, merely peculiar.
‘You’ll forgive me for not shaking hands,’ said Hoyle. He managed the neat trick of making it sound like a request, a favor granted by another even if the decision had been entirely his own. ‘Even with my gloves on, I tend to be cautious about such matters. The human hand is home to both resident and transient bacteria, a veritable cesspool of germs, but it is the transients of whom we must be most acutely aware. My immune system is not what it once was – a congenital weakness – and now I no longer venture beyond these walls. Nevertheless, I remain in good health, but precautions must be taken, particu larly where visitors are concerned. I hope you’re not offended.’
Neither Angel nor Louis looked offended. Louis remained impassive. Angel appeared bewildered. He glanced discreetly at his hands. They looked clean, but he knew what a cesspool was. He sipped some green tea. It didn’t taste of very much at all. He considered using it to wash his hands.
‘I hear you’ve been having difficulties,’ said Hoyle. He addressed his comments to Louis alone. Angel was used to such behavior. It didn’t trouble him. It meant that, in the event of a problem, he usually had an advantage over those, like Simeon and his master, who had underestimated him.
‘You seem to be well informed,’ said Louis.
‘I make it my business to be,’ replied Hoyle. ‘In this case, your interests and mine appear to have coincided. I know who sent those men to your home and the business premises in Queens. I know why they were sent. I also know that the situation is likely to deteriorate further unless you act promptly.’
Louis waited.
‘In 1983,’ Hoyle continued, ‘you killed a man named Luther Berger. He was shot in the back
of the head at close range as he left a business meeting in San Antonio. You were paid fifty thousand dollars for the hit. It was good money, in those days, even split with the driver of your getaway vehicle. In keeping with protocol, you didn’t ask why Berger had been targeted.
‘Unfortunately, though, his name wasn’t really Luther Berger. He was Jon Leehagen, or “Jonny Lee” as he was sometimes called. His father is a man named Arthur Leehagen. Arthur Leehagen did not take kindly to the killing of his older son. He has spent a very long time trying to find out who was behind his murder. In the last twelve months, he has made considerable progress. The man who hired you through Gabriel – his name was Ballantine, although you never met him – died a week ago. He was taken to Leehagen’s property, killed, and his remains fed to hogs. Leehagen has also been able to establish your identity, and the identity of the driver of the vehicle that removed you from the scene. I believe he was known to you as Billy Boy. He, like Ballantine, has since been killed: stabbed in a restroom, as I understand it, although you may know more about the circumstances than I do.
‘The men who attacked your home and the auto shop in Queens were sent by Leehagen. More will follow. I don’t doubt that you’re capable of handling most of them, but, rather like terrorists, they only have to get lucky once, while you will have to be both lucky, and proficient, all of the time. I also imagine that you would prefer not to have any more attention drawn to yourself or your business operations than is absolutely necessary. Therefore, it is incumbent upon you to act sooner rather than later.’
‘And how would you know all of this?’
‘Because I am at war with Arthur Leehagen,’ said Hoyle. ‘I make it a point to know as much as possible about his actions.’
‘And assuming any of this is true, why are you so eager to share it with us?’ asked Louis.
‘There is bad blood between Leehagen and me. It goes back a very long way. We grew up not far from each other, but our lives have taken somewhat divergent paths. Despite that, fate has seen fit to bring us into conflict on occasion. I would like to outlive him, and I would like that process to begin as soon as possible.’
‘Must be real bad blood,’ said Louis.
Hoyle nodded at Simeon. A portable DVD player was placed upon the table. Simeon hit the ‘Play’ button. After a second or two, a grainy film commenced.
‘This arrived two months ago,’ said Hoyle. He did not look at the screen. Instead, he watched the reflection of the ripples upon the wall behind them.
The film showed a pretty blond woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties. The woman appeared to be dead, and her face and hair were smeared with mud. She was naked, but most of her body was obscured by the massive heads of the hogs that were feeding on her. Angel looked away. Simeon hit ‘Pause’, freezing the image.
‘Who is she?’
‘My daughter, Loretta,’ said Hoyle. ‘She was seeing Leehagen’s surviving son, Michael. She was doing so out of spite. She blamed me for all that was wrong with her life. Sleeping with the son of a man whom I despised seemed, to her, fitting revenge, but she underestimated the Leehagen family’s capacity for violence, and vengeance.’
‘Why would he do that?’ asked Louis quietly.
Hoyle looked away, unable to meet Louis’s eye. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, the clear implication being that whatever had provoked such a response had been similarly vile.
‘Why didn’t you go to the police?’
‘Because there was no proof that Leehagen did this. I know the recording came from him – I can feel it – but even if I managed to convince the police that Leehagen was responsible, I guarantee that there would be nothing of my daughter left for them to find, assuming they could even locate the hog farm in question. There is also the matter of my own dealings with Leehagen. Neither of us is entirely innocent, but it has gone too far for us to stop now.’
He gestured at Simeon, who picked up the DVD player and removed it to a darkened alcove, then disappeared into one of the back rooms.
‘I should add that you were not my first port of call in this matter,’ said Hoyle. ‘I first hired a man named Kandic, a Serb, to kill Leehagen’s remaining son, and, if possible, Leehagen himself. I was informed that Kandic was the best in the business.’
‘And how did that work out?’ asked Louis.
Simeon returned. In his hands was a glass jar, and in the jar lay a human head. The corneas had been drained of color by the embalming fluid, and the skin had been bleached to the color of bone. The flesh at the base of the neck was ragged and torn.
‘Not very well,’ said Hoyle drily. ‘This arrived one week ago. Either I was misled when I was told that Kandic was the best, or it’s bad news for anyone who might consider following in his footsteps.’
‘And now you want Leehagen to pay for what happened to your daughter.’
‘I want this to end. It will do so only when one of us is dead. Naturally, as I said, I would prefer it if Leehagen predeceased me.’
Louis stood. The movement caused the two men by the door to reach for their weapons, but Simeon stilled them with a wave of his hand.
‘Well,’ said Louis, ‘this has all been very interesting. I don’t know where you get your information from, but you should talk to your source, because he’s feeding you some poor product. I don’t know about any Luther Berger, and I’ve never handled a gun in my life. I’m a businessman, that’s all. I’d also be careful about saying some of those things out loud again. It could get you into trouble with the law.’
Louis walked to the door, Angel behind him. Nobody tried to stop them, and no one said anything until they had passed into the lobby and were waiting on the elevator.
‘Thank you for your time, gentlemen,’ said Hoyle. ‘I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you soon.’
The elevator doors opened, Louis and Angel stepped inside, and rode in silence to the ground before disappearing into the streets.
Louis was silent as they drove from Hoyle’s building. Around them, the city moved to its own hidden heartbeat, a rhythm that varied from hour to hour, tied to the movements of the individuals that inhabited it so that sometimes he found it hard to tell if the city dictated the lifestyles of its people, or the people influenced the life of the city.
‘I thought the gloves were a nice touch,’ said Angel. ‘If his tan had been a little darker, he could have done Al Jolson.’
There was no reply. A signal changed ahead of them, but Louis floored the gas and sped through the lights. Louis knew better than to risk attracting the attention of the cops, but now he seemed reluctant to stop for any reason. Angel could also see that he was driving with his mirrors, keeping a close watch on cars behind them, or passing on the left and right.
Angel looked out of his window, watching storefronts flash by.
‘What are we going to do?’ he asked. His tone, though soft and neutral, indicated to his partner that a response of some kind would be wise.
‘I make some calls. I find out how much of what Hoyle told us is true.’
‘You don’t trust him?’
‘I don’t trust anyone with that much money.’
‘The head in the jar was pretty convincing. You really never hear of the guy he hired?’
‘No, I never did.’
‘Can’t have been too good at his job, if you never heard of him.’
‘The fact that his head currently resides in a jar would tend to support that,’ said Louis.
‘So?’
‘If Hoyle is telling even some of the truth, then we’re going to have to move against this Leehagen,’ said Louis. ‘We’ll need to do it fast. He’ll know that we’re looking for whoever is trying to light us up. He needs to get to us before we figure it out. So, like I told you, I’ll make some calls, and we’ll take it from there.’
Angel sighed. ‘And I was starting to enjoy the quiet life.’
‘Yeah, but you need the noise to appreciate the silence.’
&
nbsp; Angel looked at him. ‘What are you: Buddha?’
‘I must have read it someplace.’
‘Yeah, in a fortune cookie.’
‘You got a soul like a raisin, you know that?’
‘Just drive. My raisin-like soul needs peace.’
Angel went back to staring out of the window, but his eyes took in nothing of what they saw.
9
Angel sat alone at his workbench. Before him were scattered the components of an assortment of keyless entry systems: push-button handsets, hard-wired keypads, wireless remote deadbolts, and even a proximity card reader and a fingerprint reader, the latter alone representing about two thousand dollars’ worth of butchered electronics. Angel liked to keep up with developments in his area of expertise. Most of the equipment he was examining was capable of being used for both commercial and domestic purposes, but homeowners and contractors had, in his experience, yet to embrace the new technology. Equally, most locksmiths were not adept at dealing with keyless locks. Many were suspicious of the new systems, regarding them as being more open to corruption or breakdown. The reality was that electronic systems had fewer moving parts and, once they were installed, were potentially much harder to access than traditional mechanical systems. Angel could pick a five-pin tumbler lock with a screwdriver and a pin. A biometric reader was another matter entirely.
Usually, he would be fascinated by the equipment he had disassembled, like an anatomist given an opportunity to examine the internal organs of a particularly fine specimen, but on this occasion his mind was elsewhere. The attack on the apartment building had unnerved him, and the evening’s developments at Hoyle’s apartment had done nothing to set his mind at ease. In the aftermath of the attacks, he and Louis had discussed the possibility of lying low for a time, but had quickly discounted it. To begin with, there was Mrs Bondarchuk, who refused to move, arguing that it would disturb her Pomeranians. She also pointed out that her grandfather had refused to flee from the Communists in Russia, fighting on with the Whites, and that her father had fought the Nazis at Stalingrad. They had not run, and neither would she. The fact that both her grandfather and father had died in the course of their respective stands against the enemy did not affect her argument in any way.