The journey home to East Cobb felt longer than when he’d headed to Cleveland earlier in the day. Then he’d been filled with hopeful anticipation. Now, Curtis went back and forth over the conversation with Charlton, the responses to his questions, chastising himself for the questions he hadn’t asked. Had he really pushed Charlton as far as he could? No, not at all. But he wasn’t some hard-nosed detective and he’d been on the spot and… he’d basically caved. Left because Charlton had told him to.
Mostly he simply wondered what he should do next.
He knew what he wanted to do next – call Alyssia to tell her who he’d just seen.
But he’d made the commitment to Rachel to forget about tracking down Finn and she had no idea of the ulterior motive for his weekend work.
Except he’d already broken that commitment to her. However he tried to spin it, to whoever, the trip to see Charlton was never really about helping his client.
So he made the call. She answered almost straight away.
‘This you letting me know of more problems coming my way?’ Alyssia said, sounding particularly sullen.
‘Some news for you, actually.’
‘News?’
‘Guess who I’ve just had the pleasure of meeting.’
Silence.
‘Well?’ he prompted.
‘Just tell me.’
‘Senator Charlton.’
‘How the hell did you manage that?’
Now he had her attention.
‘Perhaps I’m not as useless as you think I am.’
‘I never said you were useless.’
‘No, but you and Danny made it pretty clear you didn’t want my help. Didn’t need my help.’
‘I don’t think that’s—’
‘It’s exactly what you both said. Anyway, Charlton. He knows Finn.’
‘He admitted that?’
‘He didn’t have to. I could read it on his face. He knew Finn’s name. He’s met him before, and I’m nearly certain he met him because of Finn’s work for Victor Travers.’
He got no response to that. Perhaps because she was surprised by the revelation, but he felt more likely because she already knew at least some of the story.
‘Finn was working on something for Travers, in Europe,’ Curtis said. ‘A debt restructure or something, I think. Charlton was somehow involved. Perhaps got them some favors. I really don’t know how something like that leads to Charlton becoming an assassination target, but the coincidence of Finn being there in D.C. that day… It’s too much.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Sorry?’
‘What you’ve just said gives a possible explanation for why Finn was in Washington. Perhaps to meet with Charlton, perhaps because of the work he was doing for Travers, but maybe something else. But maybe the hit on Charlton had absolutely nothing to do with the work Finn was doing for Travers.’
Did she really believe that?
‘Do you have any evidence that it does?’ she continued.
‘No,’ Curtis said. ‘I don’t. But… there’re too many conveniences, too many oddities otherwise. The fact that Finn is hiding, for a start.’
‘Hiding or already dead.’
He winced at that last word but didn’t dwell on it.
‘This is all linked,’ he said, sticking to his guns. ‘Whatever’s happening, it’s to do with what Finn and Travers and Charlton were working on together.’
He heard Danny’s voice in the background. Was the guy surgically attached to Alyssia?
‘What’s he saying?’
‘Nothing,’ Alyssia responded.
‘Have you spoken to Travers at all?’ Curtis asked.
‘When I first went to Mexico. But I knew far less then than I do now.’
‘Perhaps we should go and speak to him again.’
He heard Danny again, his voice a bit louder this time. Curtis couldn’t make out the words, but he knew the PI was complaining, urging Alyssia not to agree.
‘There is just one problem to that,’ Alyssia said.
‘And that is?’
‘I don’t know where Travers is. Apparently, he’s not in Mexico anymore.’
‘I read his family home is in California now.’
‘He’s not there either.’
‘You’ve checked?’
‘I had someone check.’
Not quite the same thing, but…
‘You think he’s hiding too?’
‘I really don’t know.’
‘Let’s get together,’ Curtis said. ‘Talk this over. Come up with a plan. He’s a prominent billionaire, he can’t be that hard to track down.’
‘He can literally go anywhere he wants. He’s in the perfect position to hide.’
‘Still. Let’s meet up. Where are you?’
No answer.
‘Alyssia?’
‘We’re in the area still… I’ll get back to you.’
She ended the call.
He couldn’t be sure if he’d done enough to convince her to work with him, but he’d much rather have her – just someone – on board to help him here. If he could track down Travers…
There had to be a way.
‘What the hell?’ he said to himself, as he pulled the Range Rover into the middle lane to overtake a truck. He made a few glances in his mirrors at the black sedan, three cars back. He was sure he’d first seen that vehicle not long after leaving Wayne at the country club.
He kept one eye on the rearview mirror for a mile or so. Sped up a little. Eighty, eighty-five. Ninety. In the fast lane now, overtaking car after car. The sedan initially dropped back, but as he slowed down again, there it was once more. Never too close. Never too far.
He slowed down further. Sixty-five. Sixty. It really did feel ridiculously slow now. A huge truck came rushing up behind him, its lights dazzling even in daylight. It indicated and pulled out and ever-so-slowly overtook him.
But the sedan didn’t. It remained there, behind him.
The dashboard lit up with an incoming call. Rachel. A pang of guilt bubbled in his stomach, but he did his best to ignore it as he answered.
‘The FBI are here again,’ she said.
‘In the house?’
‘No. They came to the door, asking for you. I said you were at work. Now they’re sitting outside in their car, on the road.’
‘Inchcombe and Brightling?’
‘Different ones.’
‘From the Atlanta field office?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Did they say why they want to speak to me?’
‘No, but… Curtis, I don’t like it. Where are you?’
‘I’ll be home in half an hour.’ More like forty-five minutes…
His eyes fixed on the sedan again for a brief moment.
‘Did they show you their IDs?’ Curtis asked.
‘Yeah, but… Curtis, what is going on?’
He sensed distress in her voice, perhaps because he’d sounded far less than calm himself.
The sedan behind him. Two people camped outside his house.
No, he didn’t like it at all.
‘Stay inside,’ Curtis said. ‘Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Curtis, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know. Just… stay inside. OK?’
‘OK.’
He called Alyssia again.
‘You found our billionaire already?’ Alyssia said, the mocking in her voice quite clear.
‘How close to my house are you?’
A pause. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Are you anywhere near my home?’
‘No, I’m not,’ she said snottily, as though he were accusing her of something.
‘How soon could you get there?’
‘Curtis, what are you talking about?’
‘I’m being followed,’ he said. ‘Since… not long after I left Elliott Charlton. I’ve rattled him. Someone. And Rachel says there are two FBI agents outside my house. But it’s not the same ones as the other day.’
‘OK, OK, slow down. We’re—’
Twenty, he was sure he heard Danny say.
‘We can be at your house in twenty minutes,’ Alyssia said.
‘Can you do it? Please?’
No answer.
‘Just get over there, please. Stay in your car, keep a look out, wait for me.’
‘OK. Danny will check their license plate. Can you read the one for the car that’s following you?’
‘No. It’s behind me. There’s no plate on the front.’
Alyssia sighed. ‘We’ll call you back.’
He felt a little relief, at least. He thought about calling Rachel back to tell her about Danny and Alyssia… But no, it would only lead to too many questions. He’d wait on what Danny found out first. Maybe they really were just two FBI agents. Maybe the people in the car behind him were too.
But it didn’t feel like it.
He carried on, his speed creeping up steadily now, his hands struggling to keep a firm hold on the steering wheel, they were shaking that much from surging adrenaline.
What the hell should he do?
Speed up some more. He had to. Not to lose the sedan, but to get home, to Rachel.
Could he lose the sedan too? What was the point in simply letting it tail him all the way home?
One mile to the next exit. He didn’t need to stop. He didn’t really want to stop as it’d only waste time. However…
He pulled the car across to the right-hand lane and onto the slip road. He’d just reached the junction at the end when a couple of hundred yards behind him the sedan veered off too.
Despite his urge to rush home, Curtis drove on slowly, entering the car park of the closest gas station. He didn’t need to fill up, so he parked in an empty bay by the attached store. He thought for a moment, sighed, then shut down the engine and stepped out, looking back the way he’d come. The sedan had parked too. The other side of the forecourt. No one got out.
So their plan was to sit and wait for him, then follow him again. He needed to find a way to leave them stranded.
Find a uniformed police officer? Claim they were drug dealers, or he’d seen them involved in a hit-and-run, or…?
No. Too many unknowns in what would happen next.
He headed inside. Restroom first, while he continued to think. Then to the store. He didn’t need anything.
Or did he?
He picked up a multi-tool pocketknife.
As if he knew how to protect himself in a fight. He had no clue. For the first time in a long time he really wished he was more like his brother in that respect.
In fact, how on earth were they so different?
He paid for the knife, all the while looking outside, and to the two others in the store too. He didn’t think anyone had followed him inside from the sedan, but what if…
He walked back outside. Looked to his car first. Then to the sedan. No one in sight by either.
He went to the Range Rover. It didn’t look to have been disturbed. He reached for the door handle, doubts still whirring in his mind.
No, he could do this.
He walked purposefully across the forecourt to the sedan, and was only a few yards away when finally he could see two people behind the darkened windscreen. A man and a woman. He didn’t recognize either. They glared at him but didn’t make a move to get out and confront him.
Whatever. He carried on right up to the car, past the bonnet, past the driver’s door to the back. A quick scan of their plate. Then he pulled out the knife, opened the main blade, crouched down and stabbed it into the back tyre.
Then he turned and ran.
‘Hey!’
He ignored the shout. Didn’t look back. Within seconds he’d sank down into the driver’s seat of the Range Rover. He pulled out onto the main road and floored it. He raced ahead, reached the slip road for the highway and bombed down it.
Moments later he was cruising at eighty.
No sign of the sedan behind him now.