3
Logan swung his legs out of bed and on to the carpet, scrunching his toes up and releasing them again. He saw that Cahill’s bed had been made up, the cover pulled military tight. A note on hotel paper was lying on the pillow. It was from Cahill: said he had gone out on an ‘errand’ and that Logan was to organise getting a car – ‘something with a big engine in case we need it.’
Need it for what?
He went for a shower and towelled dry, dressing in jeans and a plain navy T-shirt. He didn’t feel tired and was glad of getting a long period of uninterrupted sleep. He also felt hungry, so grabbed a lightweight Merrell walking jacket and went down to the restaurant to get something to eat.
He checked his phone after breakfast but he had no messages. It was too early back home to call Ellie so he stuck the phone in his pocket and left to find the rental car place that he had seen in the mall last night.
There wasn’t much foot traffic in the mall. It was a standard working day for most people and the city wasn’t exactly built as a holiday destination – not unless you were staying there to use it as a base for the nearby ski resorts.
He spent an hour in the rental place, most of that time stuck behind a large American woman who insisted on telling the sales agent every detail of her flight down from Chicago and how she was visiting her sister who was ill and how her sister’s no good husband …
Logan zoned out.
After a brief attempt by the agent to sell him a convertible, Logan rented a Cadillac sedan with the biggest engine that they had. It sounded to Logan like it would be powerful enough for whatever Cahill had in mind. The agent gave him directions to the rental parking lot, where the cars were stored, and all the paperwork in a branded folder.
Logan walked the short distance to the lot in the crisp morning air and found the car with the help of one of the attendants who looked about as bored as a person could. He started the car engine and it came to life with a satisfying growl. He spent fifteen minutes getting used to the car’s controls and driving around the lot to acclimatise himself to the automatic gearbox, and also turning left and right from the ‘wrong’ side. When he was happy, he looked in the car’s Sat Nav for a local landmark to give him on-the-road-driving experience and settled for the Denver Broncos’ stadium – Invesco Field at Mile High – because it was a little outside the centre of the city.
The sky was clear again today and it was a pleasant drive to the stadium. He parked the car and went to the small museum to look around at old photos of the football team and learn about its history.
When he was back outside, his phone rang.
‘You get a car?’ Cahill asked.
‘Yeah. A Cadillac.’
‘Sounds good. Where are you?’
‘Out at the football stadium.’
‘Why?’
‘No reason. Just went for a drive. What about you?’
‘Back at the hotel. You coming here now?’
‘Sure. You get your errand done?’
‘Yes.’
‘Probably best if I don’t know what it was.’
‘You got it. Listen, I want to go see if we can speak to these people this afternoon.’
Logan was about to ask what he meant, then remembered it would be to check out the D. Hunter list that Bruce had e-mailed over last night.
‘Okay. I’ll head back now. Ten, fifteen minutes.’
Logan parked on the street near the hotel and bought a local newspaper – The Denver Post – before walking back to meet Cahill.
‘You should drive,’ Logan told Cahill. ‘You’re the native after all.’
‘Sure.’ Cahill nodded. ‘Think you can handle being my passenger?’
Logan looked at his friend and, not for the first time, wondered if there was a tiny spark of madness inside his head – the kind of spark that marked men like Cahill out as different from everyone else.
Men capable of going into battle and coming out the other side.