Inside, the jewellery shop was wide but dingy. It wasn’t lit well, and the ceilings were low. Rows of watches, rings, necklaces and other items sat displayed in old glass cabinets in need of a clean. Dust choked a couple of the displays that bore old, unappealing objects that didn’t sparkle. The five of them listened to the bell over the door tinkle as they entered, walked towards a display, and waited.
Soon, an old man came out from the back. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked in French.
‘English?’ Sally asked.
‘Of course, like a second language.’ His words might have been mistaken for a jest, but the old man wasn’t smiling.
Mason studied him. He looked to be in his late sixties, wire-thin and composed of stringy muscle that hung from his bare arms. Mason could see the distended veins as if the guy had been using weights in the back. His face was a carving in severity, all deep channels and harsh lines, hair cut short and black. He moved like a man half his age and put his hands on a counter, leaning forward to study them.
‘What do you want?’
Mason guessed he didn’t get many customers in the shop. He didn’t mince words. ‘We’re here to buy a 1946 Arnstadt,’ he said briefly, repeating the code word that Madstone had given them.
Bellaire blinked, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. ‘You must be mistaken,’ he said. ‘We do not keep that make here.’
Mason should have known it wouldn’t be as easy as that. He shrugged and stepped forward. ‘We’re looking for someone,’ he said. ‘Some help. We were told to come here and ask to buy an Arnstadt.’
‘It’s a watch,’ Roxy added helpfully.
Bellaire turned his flinty eyes on her as if they could shoot bullets. His mouth drew tight as he said, ‘Not here.’
Mason looked around. The shop was empty apart from them. The guy appeared very assured, considering he was alone. Should he drop Cassadaga’s name? That probably wasn’t such a good idea. Protocol would demand that the thief’s identity stay secret. What then were they missing?
‘Hey, bud, you’re being a bit of an ass,’ Roxy said in her nicest voice. ‘We’ve come a long way to see you. Are we missing something? Some part of the code? We’ve given you all we’ve got.’
It looked like Madstone hadn’t offered the entire information, or maybe he’d forgotten part of it, or wasn’t given it. Whatever it was, they weren’t getting anywhere with Bellaire. Another failure. Mason wondered if they’d have to restart at square one.
Which was … where?
Quaid stepped forward then. ‘Hey,’ he said in a calm voice. ‘You’re Bellaire, right? They gave us your name and the name of this shop. We have at least part of the correct code. Now, I’m an obliging man. I go out of my way to help people. If you could see your way to helping us out, my friend, it’d be really appreciated.’
‘Get the fuck out of my shop,’ Bellaire snarled.
‘Hey, Grandpa,’ Roxy said in a heated voice. ‘If my face looked like a nutsack, I’d be an angry bastard too, but that’s no excuse to be an asshole. We gave you the damn code word. Give us what we need.’
She walked to within a foot of the old man. ‘Now.’
Bellaire glared at them all, flitting his eyes from one to another. Finally, his shoulders relaxed, and he stepped back. ‘Follow me,’ he said.
Mason wondered if it had all been a test as the man turned and headed towards a vinyl strip-curtain that led into the back. Roxy was quick to follow.
Mason put a hand on her arm. ‘I don’t trust him,’ he whispered.
‘Me neither,’ she whispered back.
Quaid and Hassell followed Mason closely as he went around the counter and headed for the strip-curtains. Nobody spoke. Sally brought up the rear. The old man pushed through first, the vinyl strips swinging back and striking Roxy’s arm as she followed. Mason went next.
And found himself in a wide room probably the same size as the shop. This room held stacks of cardboard boxes, two filing cabinets, and a small desk. There was a rectangular table in the centre surrounded by four chairs. Mason could see that Bellaire had been playing Solitaire when they came in.
‘You want Cassadaga,’ Bellaire said from the other side of the table. ‘Many want Cassadaga. He is a popular guy lately.’
Mason was glad all the code word bullshit was over. ‘Can you arrange a meeting?’
Bellaire nodded. ‘I can do that. I am the only one who can do that.’
‘Perfect,’ Quaid said. ‘We’ll wait.’
‘But I don’t think I will do that,’ Bellaire said.
Mason frowned. Roxy cleared her throat to speak. But at that moment, the fire exit door opened, and three big guys stepped through. Bellaire turned to them immediately.
‘Kill,’ he said.
It wasn’t the sudden movement of the men that shocked Mason; it was Bellaire’s quick dive. He took them all by surprise. He leapt onto the table, rolled, and came at Roxy with a knife in his hand. The American leaned back, saw the knife flash past her face and flung an arm out as Bellaire slashed again. This time, she blocked the attack with her upraised arm.
Mason moved to meet the onslaught of the henchmen. The first man tried to rush him with arms spread wide. Mason stood his ground and delivered a front kick to the man’s sternum, folding him in half. As he did so, Hassell came around him, taking the attention of the second henchman. Quaid was a step behind Hassell.
Mason lashed out, striking down at his opponent’s throat. The guy lowered his head just in time but caught a blow to the left eye, which made him grunt. Mason struck down at him with solid blows, hitting around the head and neck, shaking him from left to right. They were hard, boxer’s blows, designed to debilitate. The man appeared to know that and fell purposely to the floor to escape them, rolled, and tried to stand.
Mason was ready for him. He waded in before the guy could settle, delivering punch after punch.
Roxy had backed away from the knife-wielding Bellaire. He was good with a blade and moved like a viper, striking quickly. She tried to put it out of her head that this man was in his sixties; he was as deadly as anyone in this room with that slashing knife.
He swung at her face, missed, and then at her chest. Then, he arrested the momentum of his attack in mid-thrust and plunged the blade towards her solar plexus.
It was a hard attack to dodge. Impossible in the space she had. Roxy saw the man’s skill; she knew it was coming. She threw a hand up, smashed his wrist hard, and knocked the knife from his grip.
It flew across the room, catching the light as it spun, and clattered to the floor.
Bellaire wasted no time commiserating the loss. He flung his bony arms at Roxy, forcing her to cover up. Behind the American, Sally stood ready to join in. Roxy was very much aware of the woman and what she wanted – to be a part of the action. But it was hard to let a newly trained fighter take the lead.
Roxy launched her own attack on Bellaire.
Quaid and Hassell had engaged the other two henchmen. Both enemies were big guys in black suits, their necks as thick as a python’s body. They made no sound and betrayed no emotions as they joined the fight.
Quaid went low, Hassell went high. They both struck out as hard as they could, though they were not in the same league as Mason and Roxy when it came to fighting. But they could hold their own, as these goons were about to find out.
Or not. The goons took the blows without flinching and then waded in themselves, punishing Quaid and Hassell with body blows. The two men were driven back. It was now that Sally saw where they needed her the most.
She skipped past Roxy, then reached Hassell and used her newly learned skills not to attack the men but to debilitate them. She was fast, still learning, but she had listened well and knew exactly what she had to do. Until now, she was untested.
Hassell staggered. Sally came around him and lashed out at the henchman with stiffened fingers and fists, going for his vulnerable areas. She connected with an eye, his trachea, and his ears. The man paused in his advance, breathing heavily, to shake his head and clear it.
In that moment, Hassell was on him, punching hard. To Hassell’s left, Quaid was having similar problems with his adversary. Quaid managed to trip his opponent then, sending him crashing to the ground.
Mason was aware as ever that Hassell and Quaid were the weaker fighters. As he fought, he tried to monitor them with the idea that, if they started looking encumbered, he’d find a way to step in. For now, though, they were doing okay. He wasn’t comfortable with the addition of Sally in the mix, but there was nothing he could do about it. His own opponent was up and attacking quickly. Mason knew he needed to end this fast. They had to take these goons down and find out what they knew, what Bellaire knew.
He met his opponent’s rush with an elbow to the face. Blood flew from the impact. The man grunted, staggered. Mason brought a knee up, doubled him over. He smashed another elbow into the guy’s exposed neck. As he fell, Mason kicked him in the face.
The man fell on his spine, flapping his arms and bleeding. Mason decided to help Quaid and Hassell but, as he turned away, the man hooked his legs around Mason’s ankles and sent him crashing to the floor. Mason landed hard, banging his forehead, and saw stars. He felt his opponent climbing on top of him.
Bellaire jabbed at Roxy, showing no signs of tiring. The American let him attack and then countered, targeting his ribs and stomach. Bellaire backed away so that the width of the table was between them.
‘Is the car ready?’ he shouted.
‘Ready, boss,’ one henchman shouted back.
‘Then do it.’
Immediately, Bellaire lashed out, catching Roxy with a blow around the head. The three henchmen attacked swiftly and severely, punching and throwing their weight into the battle, forcing their opponents back.
Then they turned and ran.
All of Mason’s attackers ran for the fire exit. He was on the floor, twisted in pain. Hassell and Quaid were on their knees. Sally had taken a blow and was holding her head in one hand. Roxy’s mouth was bleeding as she darted around the table.
‘What the fuck are you waiting for?’ she growled at them. ‘You want them to escape?’
The team dragged themselves to their feet and took off in pursuit.