I begin to grow uneasy as we head across Seattle. I have this weird, unpleasant nagging feeling in the back of my mind. It takes me about fifteen minutes to figure out why. As I follow behind Jamie and Cade on their motorcycles, the loud snarling of their engines echoing off the buildings surrounding us, waking up the city, I realize that I’ve driven this route many times before. I’ve driven it when I’ve been heading to collect Zee from his employer’s residence out in Richie Rich suburbia.
As the seconds tick by, turning into minutes, and we make each and every turn, leading us out toward Hunt’s Point, I know this isn’t a coincidence. We’re heading out toward Charlie Holsan’s residence, and whatever they have planned there is going to cause huge problems for me.
Zeth’s kept me off Charlie’s books. He has his reasons, whatever they are, and as far as Charlie is aware, Zeth works alone. I have a severe headache thumping at my temples by the time we pull up outside the high, wrought iron fence that skirts Charlie’s property. I’ve never met the man but I know enough about him. He’s paranoid, wealthier than all hell, and crazy to boot. He’s put more people in the ground than anyone can really recall; the number of corpses rotting in Washington State because of this English bastard is innumerable. Even I was moderately freaked out when Zeth told me who owned this house the first time I found myself driving past it.
On a high post above the fence railings, a camera swivels around to survey the two motorcycles and the non-descript black sedan that have just pulled up outside. Jamie gives the camera a wave and I feel like banging my forehead against the steering wheel.
I do not get out of the car.
Jaime climbs off his ride, as does Cade, and both men head over to me, hands in their pockets. Did they bring weapons with them? They’re fucking stupid if they did. I buzz down the window, ready to grab my cousin by the scruff of the neck and drag him in here with me so I can beat his ass if need be.
“Are you fucking insane?” I hiss. “Do you have any idea who lives here?”
Jamie pouts, looking up at the fencing, hands still in his pockets. He doesn’t seem worried by my question. “How many physicists does it take to change a light bulb?” he asks.
“Don’t do this, Jay. Get back on your bike and ride the hell away from here. Now.”
“I’m not riding away from anywhere,” he tells me, shaking his head. “This guy is a shady fucker, Michael. He knows exactly what’s going in the syndicates. And I’m not just talking state-wide. I’m talking nationally. If anyone knows anything about women being kidnapped and disappearing without a trace, it’s him. And you,” he says, bending down to look through the car window so that we’re eye to eye, “You work for the guy.”
So that’s it, then. His hacker isn’t so behind in the times after all. He knows I’m connected with Zee, and he knows Zeth’s connected with Charlie. “I don’t work for Holsan. I work for Zeth. I don’t know Charlie, and I sure as fuck don’t want to either. And neither should you.”
Jamie’s eyes, so cold, ice blue, flare. “I don’t have the luxury of doing what I want to do these days, Michael. I only do what I have to. We have to find Laura. We combed Alabama from left to right, state line to state line. No one knows a thing. If some local sicko had taken her and tossed her in his basement, someone would have talked. Someone would have to know. We went after every single suspicious motherfucker we were told about simply to confirm that they didn’t have her, too, and none of them did. Five other women went missing that week. Five women, all from within a one hundred mile radius. That’s either a very bad week in rural Alabama, or it’s a pattern. Your guy inside might know something about it, and so here we are. And you need to get us inside.”
“I can’t do that. I can make a call. That’s it.”
Jamie shrugs, slapping his hands against his thighs. “Done. Thank you.”
I can’t believe I’m about to do this. Zeth will string me up if he knows where I am right now. This whole situation is a nightmare of epic proportions, and I can’t get out of it without letting down my cousin or pissing off my boss. Fuck. I pull my cell phone out of the sweatpants pocket, my mind racing as I try to figure out my best plan of attack here. What the hell can I say to Zee to minimize the damage? Jesus, he’s going to castrate me.
I dial the number for his burner—not stored in my phone for obvious reasons—and hold my breath as it rings and rings and rings. No answer. I can’t decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Jamie, on the other hand, has clearly decided this is very inconvenient. The lines between his forehead are deepening by the second.
“I’m going to get a welder down here and take these fucking gates off at the hinges soon, dude,” he says.
“If you plan on dying today, that’s a really smart plan. Go ahead.”