“All we want from you is information,” Abel says. “We have been trying to work out what these people are up to, so we can try to prevent it. But we don’t know, and that is making our lives very difficult.”
I stare at him for a moment. “So how do I know that you don’t work for them? That you’re not just trying to find out how much I know?”
“They tried to kill you last night,” Robin says. “We gave you bed and breakfast. Whose side would you pick?”
“Could be all part of your plan,” I say. “Find out what I know, find out who I’ve told, so you can dump them in a mudpot too.”
There is a shocked silence.
“Is that where you were last night?” Mullins asks.
“Yeah, getting a therapeutic mudbath,” I say. “Except I beat up two of them and threw the other down the hole.”
That makes me sound a hell of a lot tougher than I actually am, but they aren’t to know that. Then again, when I think about it. I did beat up two of them, and one fell into the mudpot while he was attacking me, so it’s not all that far from the truth.
Turns out I’m a bit of a badass really.
“You threw one of them in the mudpot?” Robin asks.
“Yeah. The boss. Cordier. Did a little crockpot cookin’,” I say, deftly stealing Pullman’s line.
“No wonder Boak is so pissed with you,” Mullins says.
“Friend of yours, is he?” I ask.
“Far from it,” Abel says. “You’ve picked a powerful enemy.”
“So, tell me again why I can trust you?” I ask, because I don’t, and nothing they say will convince me to change my mind.
“Put it this way,” Abel says. “If you trust us, and we turn out to be working for Boak, then we’ll find out everything you know and kill you. You’ll be dead, and your Puppetmasters’ plan will go ahead. But if we are who we say we are, then we’ll protect you. And there’s a chance we may be able to stop them. It’s your choice.”
“Don’t feel obligated,” Robin says, “just because we rescued you. But if some huge oil disaster strikes in the next few days you’ll have to live with knowing you could have helped prevent it.”
“How did this all end up being my fault?” I ask.
Abel shrugs.
“Tell us whose house you were breaking into,” he says. “Or rather why.”
I consider that for a moment. He could find out who owned the house simply by checking the phone book. I decide to give them this much.
“Johan Stamp is a survivalist,” I say.
“What did you find there?” Mullins asks.
I hesitate, but there is no point in not telling them.
“An underground bunker, weapons, food, all the usual stuff,” I say. “Nothing incriminating.”
“That’s it?” Robin asks.
“Almost,” I say. “A man turned up while I was there. He sprayed some liquid around in the garage then left.”
The three of them exchange curious glances.
“I’d love to know what he sprayed around,” Abel says. “Might be a real clue as to what they’re up to.”
“Police are all over that place after the break-in,” Mullins says. ‘We won’t get near it.”
“You’re assuming it was Boak’s man who did it,” I say.
“I guess it could have been the local Amway rep testing out some new cleaning product,” Robin says scornfully.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t the local Amway rep. But now I have a dilemma. If I give them the sample of the spray, and they are on the side of the angels, that could really help. But if they are devils in disguise, then I will be handing my best piece of evidence to the enemy. This time I decide to throw caution to the winds.
“When I arrived, did I have a plastic bag in my pocket?” I ask.
Abel queries Robin with a glance, who nods and disappears. She returns a moment later with the ziplock bag.
“Happy Birthday,” I say. “Whatever he sprayed, it’s on that.”
“There’s more to you than meets the eye,” Abel says with a smile.
Even Robin looks a little impressed.
“We’ll get that analysed,” Abel says. “See what turns up.”
“Is there anything else?” Mullins asks. “Anything at all?
There is. There’s the meeting on the Brooklyn Bridge. Tomorrow. At midnight. But I have already given them all I am going to. Much more than I intended to.
“No,” I say. “That’s everything. Sorry.”
“Okay,” Abel says. “Thanks. For all your help.”
“Thanks for rescuing me from the hospital,” I say.
My, aren’t we great old buddies now.
I can’t work Abel out. He’s either a very good actor, or he really is one of the good guys.
He’s probably a very good actor.
“What now?” I ask.
“Whatever you want,” Mullins says.
“You’re free to go,” Robin says.
“Free to go,” I say. “Really? These people are looking for me. They find me, they’ll kill me. I have nowhere to go, no money, I can’t use my credit card. Where the hell do you expect me to go?”
“I think we can work something out,” Abel says.