The Country Club had several function rooms, all in the residence wing, which was a grand, gleaming white five-storey Georgian looking building with massive windows and a flat roof. The finest room was called The Club, and had a curved sweeping wall of windows that overlooked the grounds and further out down the hill, the lights of the town could be seen.
Barlow was sitting in a comfortable armchair, rolling an unlit cigar between his thumb and forefinger, Abel was standing at the window staring into the night.
‘Sit down for Christ’s sakes,’ Barlow told him. ‘Jesus relax, will you? Have a cigar.’
‘Yeah, you know, I’m just keen for them to get back.’
‘They won’t be long, it will be a quick one tonight, and you know that, so stop worrying.’
Abel turned and Barlow slid a glass of brandy across the side table toward him.
‘Thanks.’
Abel drank it down and picked up a cigar from the box. Outside the skinny trees they had planted all along the driveway were bending sharply in the strong wind.
Barlow clipped the end off the cigar and with a chunky lighter sitting on the table lit it, and then puffed away in a thick cloud of blue smoke. It smelt good, so Abel lit his, and then poured himself another brandy. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but it had been niggling away at him all night, in fact he admitted to himself that he had been uneasy all day. He would be very relieved when everyone was back and they could all go to bed. Tomorrow was another day, and then nobody could get in their way. He passed a hand over his face, he was tired. Once this was done he was going to take a vacation, Barlow would moan about it but he needed some time and space away.
Maybe he could visit southern Italy, or Spain. He sat down heavily and then sprang back up out the chair, as the first headlights could be seen at the top of the drive.
‘Thank God,’ he breathed, turning around and smiling.
Barlow just nodded, as if he had known this was the precise moment they would return all along.
Abel happily poured himself another brandy, then looked back out the window and froze. He had expected to see two, or possibly three vehicles if Sheriff Carter had obstinately decided to come for a nightcap, but he could see four separate sets of headlights now and they were moving fast. He walked over to the window and looked down as the first two cars pulled up.
Two dark sedans. Big shiny cars. Radio aerials visible on the boot. Two more vehicles were slowing and stopping behind them. Car doors opening, men streaming all over the place.
‘Er …’ he started, his mouth opening and closing.
Barlow pulled himself up out of his chair and stared out the window.
‘What the hell!’ he snarled.
‘You …’ Abel started again, and then stopped. He turned around slowly on the spot, then moved into the centre of the room, his hand over his mouth. He looked around, and then pushing past Barlow walked from the room in short, jerky steps, out into the reception area for the conference rooms. The lift to the ground or up to the residence floors was to his left. The door to the stairway was next to it.
He pushed through and walked up the stairs, blinking rapidly, shallow breaths, mouth hanging open. He reached the top floor and then walked up a final set that ran straight with a solid door on the top. He opened it, and stepped onto the roof.
The strong wind blew him forward, and he lurched across the roof to the front, where he could look down over a low wall that ran all the way around, amazed by all the activity. He stood very still watching everything, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his notepad, and his trusty, expensive pen. He looked at it lovingly, and held it up. Then he wrote something on the notepad, and clutching it in his hand climbed onto the wall, then stepped off.
John looked at his watch wearily, ten past six. Dawn was finally breaking; the first proper rays of sunlight stretching out across the compound. He looked around, whichever direction he turned there were people working.
Patrick had arrived, listened carefully, and swept into immediate action. He had bought seven agents with him, but within three hours had over thirty on the ground. Two helicopters had arrived, then more vehicles, the state police, an hour ago Frank Slater had turned up.
For the first time ever, Patrick wasn’t wearing a suit. He was dressed in dark jeans, sweatshirt and jacket, emblazoned with the letters F.B.I. across the back in yellow. All the other agents were dressed similarly. Now, there were generators running, and spotlights everywhere. The Regulators had been taken away in one van, handcuffed, silent and subdued.
The first big news was when Patrick looked at the two men that were there. He recognised Raymer, but he stared in amazement at the other man.
‘Jesus,’ he stated, unable to look away.
‘What?’ John asked.
Patrick shook his head and pointed.
‘So, we’ve got a judge, and also the planning director for Homeland Security. Meet James Waldron.’
‘Fuck!’ Gilbey blurted out.
‘Indeed,’ Patrick agreed. ‘I think this will take some explaining Mr Waldron.’
Waldron started to blabber a series of excuses, but Patrick cut him off, and he and Raymer were taken away and driven off in separate vehicles, the judge loudly protesting his innocence.
The search had begun in earnest, more and more agents and state police arriving.
An hour later John and Gilbey were sitting on the ground with their backs against the front wall of the building. Gilbey had collected their pick-up and it was sitting forlornly over by the gates, it was light enough that they could see everywhere now.
Patrick walked across and dropped to the ground in front of them.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to need you to come in. Both of you.’
John agreed, he had expected this. Gilbey didn’t look happy.
‘Come in where?’ he asked.
‘Austin. I’m sorry, but I got no choice. This is massive, we already found two bodies. This whole place will have to be dug up, we got to get searching, identification, plus all the forensics. Raymer and Waldron won’t go quietly. We’ve arrested Barlow, who is also making a lot of noise. So now we’ve got to put it all together, and this is beyond serious. I’ve got you two, and the three men that were abducted. But we should be able to get it tidy, and fast. Listen, I’ll get rooms in the Four Seasons, I’ll treat you guys like kings. But I’m gonna need all the help I can get.’
‘I know that, it’s no problem for me,’ John replied, looking at Gilbey.
The big man sighed, and nodded.
‘Fine. But Carrie comes with me. She loves Austin.’
Patrick chuckled.
‘Ok. Hell, I’ll pay for a romantic dinner. Least I can do.’
Another helicopter flew in, and hovered kicking up a massive cloud of dust before settling. More agents, plus a man in a suit who was looking around everywhere shocked.
‘That’s my cue,’ Patrick said standing up.
He started to walk toward the helicopter and then stopped and turned back.
‘By the way, there’s a couple of things you should probably know, I said we had Barlow; he has been taken in, he’s going to be held at Travis, along with the Regulators, or whatever it is they call themselves.’
‘Travis?’ John asked.
‘Prison near to Austin, there’s a few around but that one has the best access for us in the jail.’
‘What about Abel?’ Gilbey asked.
‘That’s the other thing. He jumped off the roof at the Country Club, so no trial for him.’
‘Shit.’
‘Left a note, they found it on him. Just said “I’m sorry”, that was it.’
Patrick turned back and walked quickly across to meet the man in the suit.
‘Abel. Man, what a fucking chickenshit.’ Gilbey spat into the dirt.
But John wasn’t all that surprised. Cane had completely disintegrated, right in front of his eyes, and he guessed that Abel had done the exact same thing once realisation had hit home. Barlow was the one that was behind everything, and he would go down fighting. He would be the prize.