At a quarter to nine, the man codenamed Amos was in the Explorer, alone, driving slowly south on Oak Street in Shiloh Village.
He’d finished his calls to the guys only he and Reaper knew about.
Four men, hired by him for an essential part of the mission.
Efficient types, not high-flyers in their field, but cold and sufficiently skilled to do what was needed to get the job done.
Reliable because, bottom line, they wanted what he was going to give them.
Oak Street was quiet, no one out, not even a dog being walked.
A party happening inside the Shiloh Inn – lights, music, movement, laughter.
Seven out of the eight rooms on the first and second floors booked through to Monday, Reaper had informed him. Most of the third floor permanently occupied by the proprietor and his wife.
Amos had a list of Shiloh Village residents pretty much memorized, his near-photographic memory always useful in his profession.
The only fulltime lawbreaker inside Whirlwind.
Unless you counted Reaper, though he couldn’t really be categorized, and Amos, having come to know him at least a little over time, had no wish to know more, knew when and where to draw the line.
What he felt most for the old, sick guy was respect.
No higher compliment in Amos’s book.
The snow was light this evening, the sidewalks well-covered by late December standards, though nothing – if this mega-storm came their way – compared with how it might look this time tomorrow.
He went on driving slowly, peering at houses, passing St Matthew’s on Main, then taking a look at the homes on Elm Street, and moving on to South Maple. Lights were on in most houses and apartments, drapes, blinds or shutters keeping many private.
Just checking the place out. Reconnoitering. Liking to be prepared, not feeling any significant anxiety about Reaper’s plan because he understood worst-case scenarios, was as ready for them as he could be in this mission.
Being a loner suited Amos. No wife or kids, no one to give a damn. A life of pleasing himself and getting through tough times without the guilt of having someone else weeping into their pillow.
Reaper’s ‘team’ his biggest concern now.
Jeremiah still too damned uptight, and Amos was sure he wasn’t the only one.
Nothing to be done about them.
For now, all was quiet.
‘Ghost town,’ Amos said quietly.
He found his way back onto Main and headed west on Shiloh Road.