‘You know what I mean. I had to leave some cold ones behind and the cops are sniffing around.’
Raines pulled at the collar of his shirt. It felt like things were close to being out of control. First Johnson was killed for skimming profits, then Stark and now Butler was losing it. They were all at risk.
‘I worry about Matt,’ he told Butler.
‘He never did have the stomach for it. Not after he was out and hobbling around on his new legs.’
‘We had an undercover FBI agent trying to infiltrate us.’
‘What?’ Butler shouted. ‘Because of Matt?’
‘No. I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know.’
‘So why are you worried about him? You’re not making any sense.’
‘He’s depressed. About the overdoses we had here. I don’t think he can take it any more.’
‘So do what I did.’
Raines wasn’t sure what he meant and said so.
‘Take him out. It’s the only way you can be sure he won’t turn you in.’
The thought had passed through Raines’s mind more than once. But it seemed like such a waste. This whole thing got started to get Matt out of the hospital. To get him well. It was only after that, when the operation grew, that they hatched the notion of doing something more with it.
‘Look,’ Butler said. ‘Fuck him. And fuck the FBI. You do what I did. You take out anyone who is a threat. A weak link. Don’t even think twice about it. Doesn’t matter if they are civilians or if they wear a badge. There’s only two types of people: soldiers and all the rest. And the rest of them don’t matter.’
‘What about you?’
‘Don’t worry about me. You do what you have to and I’ll do the same. I can take care of myself.’
‘Okay. We won’t speak again.’
‘It’s been… interesting.’
Raines drove to Matt Horn’s house and sat in the car parked along the street. It was still light outside. His gun was in a holster under the front passenger seat. He leaned down and grabbed it, taking the gun out and sitting it on his lap. Closed his eyes. Saw it all play out.
Matt in the hospital screaming. Wanting to know why him.
The overbearing arrogance and lack of interest among the hospital bureaucrats: only interested in how much money they could make from the treatment.
Matt fading away as the multiple infections took hold and ravaged his body.
Him lashing out in the hospital waiting area, trashing the place.
The condescending replies to his letters.
Drinking himself into a stupor and making the threats.
Then, at the bottom of his despair, the thought of exploiting the contacts Johnson and Butler had made back in Afghanistan. Those men seemed like magnets for others soaked in violence and blood.
Raines tried to remember how he justified what he’d done in his own mind. He couldn’t have contemplated such a thing before the war. Before Matt. Wondered if his mind had snapped. Maybe it was Matt reminding him of his own son and the pain and suffering he endured before the leukaemia finally took him far too young.
He wondered if he’d ever been truly sane since his son had died. Thought that probably he had not.
Raines’s attention was drawn to a taxi pulling up outside Horn’s house. The front door of the house opened and Horn walked stiffly out to the taxi and climbed awkwardly into the back seat.
‘Where are you going, Matt?’ Raines said aloud.
Raines started his car and followed the taxi.
14
‘Cooper Grange,’ Danny Collins said for the third time in as many minutes. ‘Sounds like a cowboy.’
He turned in the passenger seat of the car being driven by Jake Hunter and looked at Logan and Cahill in the back seat.
‘Does he wear a Stetson?’
‘Not last time I looked,’ Logan told him.
They had called Webb at the FBI field office and arranged to meet him and Grange there. Webb told them to park on the street outside the building and Grange would meet them to take them to the office on the top floor. Hunter and Collins had not said much about their investigation to Webb on the phone except that there was a link to a group of ex-soldiers with a possible connection to a Mexican drug cartel. That was enough for Webb.
Grange was standing on the pavement and walked to the car as Hunter pulled up at the kerb. His suit still looked immaculate after what had obviously been a long day for him, judging by the smudges of dark skin under his eyes.
Logan and Cahill hung back while Hunter and Collins introduced themselves and shook hands with Grange. Grange gave Cahill a look but said nothing, ushering the four of them forward and into the building lobby where they walked to the bank of elevators.
Webb was waiting for them in the conference room next to his office at the end of the hall. His jacket was draped over a chair and he had loosened his tie and his shirt cuffs. Hunter introduced himself and Collins.
‘We should get down to business,’ Webb said as he sat.
Hunter and Collins took seats side by side.
‘What about these two?’ Grange said, looking at Logan and Cahill. ‘They can’t be here for this.’
Webb looked from Grange to Hunter.
‘What do you think, Detective?’
Hunter turned in his seat to look at them.
‘It’s fine with me if they stay. I mean, they’re the ones who put us together.’
‘By withholding information,’ Grange said.
‘You want to lock them up in your basement?’ Collins asked.
‘Danny…’ Hunter frowned at his partner.
Grange still wasn’t happy.
‘He’s got clearance,’ he said, jabbing a finger at Cahill. ‘But the lawyer doesn’t. He shouldn’t be here.’
‘The lawyer stays,’ Cahill said.
‘No,’ Logan answered. ‘I don’t want to get in the way of this happening. Show me where I can get a drink and something to eat and I’ll wait for you guys.’
Cahill opened his mouth to protest but Logan cut him off.
‘We’re all supposed to be on the same side,’ Logan said.
‘Coop,’ Webb said to Grange. ‘The least you can do for the man is get him comfortable. It might be a long night.’
Grange huffed out a breath and opened the door, waiting for Logan to step out into the hall. From there, he led Logan back to the reception area and through a secure door behind it into an open-plan office area. Logan figured that this was where the regular agents went about their ordinary business. The place was largely empty apart from a female agent at a desk by a window and the two Hispanic agents who had picked them up at the airport — Martinez and Ruiz. They sat at desks facing one another and looked over as Grange came in.
‘Look after this one,’ Grange told them. ‘Get him a coffee or something.’
He turned and walked back out the same door without waiting for an acknowledgement. Logan stared at the two agents who looked at one another. Finally, Ruiz got up and came over to where Logan stood.
‘So, is it coffee? Or do you English types like tea?’
‘I’m not English.’
Ruiz frowned.
‘Scotland’s a different country.’
‘Whatever. What’s it to be?’
‘Coffee is fine.’
Grange came back into the conference room, walked around to the far side of the table and sat next to Webb.
