“‘Were’?”
Gabriel Cohen had been tall and rangy, with black curly hair. He was a talker and a charmer, and women fell for him. He was charismatic, passionate, and he drew people in. He’d looked Middle Eastern enough to be dropped inside the region into the hottest spots. Since he spoke Arabic and a smattering of Urdu, he could operate in several countries, including Pakistan.
Kennedy nodded. “He’s gone, too.”
“Jesus. What happened?”
“ You happened,” Haley spat. She scrubbed the pots so violently, water splashed across the countertop.
“The cops said it was a bar fight,” Kennedy said, ignoring her. He chinned toward Haley. “Those two got in a big argument. It had to do with her staying here. Nunez didn’t like the idea of anyone bringing a stranger inside, and she overheard him telling Cohen. When Cohen didn’t defend her, she ripped into him. This place,” Kennedy said, “isn’t as big as you might think. There are lots of spats and arguments when you’ve got a bunch of people cooped up in here. Plus, there was the stress of Sweeney and McCarthy dying.”
“Anyway…” Nate prompted.
“Cohen left pissed-off ten days ago. It wasn’t the first time. I knew he’d likely just go down to Victor or over to Tetonia to get drunk and hash it out in his own mind. They found him beaten to death outside a bar in Tetonia. Blunt-force trauma. No suspects at all.”
“So they were waiting for him,” Nate said.
“That’s my theory.”
“They probably jumped him from behind,” Nate said. “Cohen was a tough guy, and you wouldn’t want to take him on from the front.”
“He was tough,” Kennedy said, shaking his head sadly. “But we’re all just flesh and blood. We’re all mortal. Even you.”
Haley reacted by throwing the dishrag into the sink with obvious disgust. When she turned on them, her eyes were filled with tears and her chin trembled. “You talk about Gabriel like I’m not in the room, Oscar.”
“Your choice.”
“But I’m not here by choice,” she said. Her Southern accent was honey-laced, Nate thought. But her voice built as she said, “I’m a prisoner. My man is gone, and the wolves are right outside the door. I’m doing my best, but I don’t have much left. So at least extend me the courtesy of not talking about him as if I wasn’t in the room, okay?”
Then she faked a slap at Kennedy’s head-he ducked-and again left the room. Nate watched her leave and was surprised to find his insides stir. She was fit and fiery, with that mane of jet-black hair and large blue eyes. She filled her tight jeans nicely and had a graceful way of moving-even when she was throwing a wet rag or stomping around-he found surprisingly attractive. He stanched the feeling. Alisha was still there with him-a braid of her hair on his weapon-and he instantly felt guilty about it.
When she was gone, Nate asked, “How long has she been here?”
“Three months, July,” he said. “We’re like an old married couple the way we fight all the time. She’s got a good heart, though. I’m fond of her, and it’s tough on her Cohen is gone. Really tough.”
Nate did a quick calculation in his head. She couldn’t be the vixen who lured Large Merle to his death if she’d been in Idaho for three months. But who was to say there was only one vixen?
“Have you checked her out?” Nate asked Kennedy softly.
The man nodded. “Of course, or I wouldn’t have let her in the door with Cohen. In a nutshell, she’s a North Carolina girl, born and raised in Charlotte. Old Southern family. Went to the University of Montana, then moved to New York. She was some kind of prodigy at a big public-relations firm for a while, got married to a sharpie, then divorced. No kids. She wanted to move back home, and she bounced around for a while until she ran into Cohen at Sun Valley and he brought her back here. No gaps in her history, no likely interactions with bad guys. Most of all, no incentive to infiltrate our compound. She was crazy about Cohen, even though they fought all the time.”
Nate nodded. “Are you two…?”
“No,” Kennedy said flatly. “Not that I haven’t suggested it. But no.”
“And Nunez?” Nate asked.
Aldo Nunez was a wiry man of Hispanic origins with a cherubic face and the ability to insinuate himself into any group. Nate had met him only once but liked him immediately.
Kennedy said, “He went down to talk to the local cops to find out what they knew about Cohen’s beating a week ago. That’s the last we’ve seen of him. He just never came back. You didn’t know Nunez very well, but believe me, he’s not the type to bug out.”
Nate rubbed his face with his hands.
“Diane Shober went with him,” Kennedy said flatly.
“So she’s gone, too.”
“I’m afraid so. Collateral damage.”
“It’s worse than I could have guessed,” Nate said.
Kennedy simply nodded as he kept his eyes on Nate.
“She’s right,” Kennedy said, referring to what Haley had exclaimed. “We’ve been virtual prisoners here. Honestly, I’m not afraid to go out, but I understand the odds. So we haven’t left this place since Nunez vanished. I haven’t been able to go to the church to preach.”
He chinned toward the window above the sink. “We haven’t opened the curtains until just this morning. We’re locked down and I’d like to say we’re ready for anything, but it depends what they throw at us. As you know, this is a tough place to get into if you don’t know the keypad code. I can’t see them trying an all-out assault. Instead, they’ve been patient and they picked us off one by one.”
Nate said, “Why do you think they’re gone now?”
Kennedy shrugged. “Because we’re still alive, and God has a plan for me. He wants me to continue to do what I’m doing here.”
After a few moments, the Reverend Oscar Kennedy said, “You came here for help and information, Nate. I’m not sure I can provide information, and the men who could help you have been taken from us.”
“I understand,” Nate said. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is.”
“Do you know how many men Nemecek has on his team?” Nate asked. “Has there been any chatter about changes in tactics?”
“A little,” Kennedy said. “Obscure references. Some serious complaints. But I can’t recall seeing a number, and certainly not a list of operatives.”
“Damn.”
“Everything is locked down tight. Tighter than you can believe.”
“What do you mean when you say ‘serious complaints’?” Nate asked. “About what?”
“The quality of Nemecek’s team. There is some grumbling from ex-Five operators still in the business that quality control isn’t what it used to be when he’d been selecting men. I get the impression,” Kennedy said, “there is a feeling Nemecek has surrounded himself with a close group of men without strong character. Not that they aren’t well trained like we all were, but that he’d let the intangibles slip. There’s been some chatter that Nemecek prefers yes-men to patriots these days. That at least some of the Peregrines are there to serve John Nemecek instead of their country. He’s ambitious-we both know that. He likes power, and he always thinks he’s the smartest man in the room.”
Nate nodded. “So he’s surrounded himself with thugs.”
“That sums it up pretty well. But you know how it is. Ex-Five operators always think they had it tougher than the new recruits. It’s part of the game.”
“But in this case they may have a point,” Nate said. “The three men I saw in Colorado wouldn’t have been in Mark V ten years ago. They would have washed out, believe me.”
“Because you defeated them?” Kennedy asked.
“Because they weren’t that good,” Nate said. He looked around the small kitchen, at the thick window and the steel window frames. At the dishes undone in the sink.
“Maybe we should all get out of here,” Nate said.
