As Hunt astutely pointed out, Metcalf didn’t need a gun that could stop a charging rhino. He needed something small and light that could do damage at close range. They eventually settled on a low recoil pocket pistol weighing less than two pounds. The addition of a laser sight made it easy enough for even a feeble old man to hit what he was aiming at. After a week of daily practice, Metcalf was now a competent enough marksman with his pea shooter to continue training on his own.
“You given any thought to who you might be aimin’ that gun at?” Leroy hinted delicately.
His question was met with a frosty glare. “You’re alluding to my son Joshua?”
“Yessir. Like I told you before, that boy’s trouble with a capital T. Do yourself a favor and snuff him before he snuffs you.”
The preacher shook his head. “Not yet, Mr. Hunt. My son has made no move to harm me. Besides...” He trailed off, apparently hesitating about how much information to share. “Joshua is still useful. He’s performing certain confidential tasks which can’t be entrusted to anyone else. The day may come when he outlives his purpose. Then I’ll decide what must be done.”
Leroy grunted his assent, still not convinced that a “wait and see” attitude was the best course to take.
The old man hobbled over to a seat behind the trainer’s desk.
Hunt followed and sat himself down in the visitor’s chair. He was eager to get back to his primary mission of finding Mr. Big’s lair. “I expect you won’t need me here every day no more,” he ventured. “Time I went back to tailin’ that kid full time.”
“Have you made any progress in that direction?” Metcalf asked.
“A mite,” Leroy admitted. “Every day after we finish up here, I been drivin’ out to the boy’s house but he ain’t never around.”
Metcalf frowned. “So, you haven’t been able to determine where he goes?”
“No sir, I ain’t yet cuz I been trainin’ you every mornin’.” The cowboy’s tone held a note of reproach. “I did manage to chat up one of his buddies on Friday though. Turns out the kid took a summer job someplace. He wouldn’t tell nobody where he was goin’ or what he was doin’. That sounded fishy to me so’s I figure he’s doin’ odd jobs for Mr. Big. Tomorrow I’ll be at the kid’s house before first light. That way I can follow him out.”
“An excellent idea,” Metcalf concurred, “but it will have to wait.”
“What now?” Leroy couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. He felt like a bloodhound that had been abruptly hauled off the scent.
“I have a more urgent matter for you to handle.”
“Boss, I can’t fathom what’s more important than shuttin’ down Mr. Big.”
“I fear Doctor Aboud is talking to people he shouldn’t.”
It took the cowboy several seconds to connect the dots. He recalled the time Metcalf had sent him to follow the little foreign doctor into the city where he’d met with a shady Russian, and some sort of deal had been struck. The next time Leroy saw the doctor was in the preacher’s office with the thief named Erik. Since Hunt had never been told what the doc was up to, he stared at Metcalf blankly, waiting for further clarification.
The old man apparently realized full disclosure was necessary. “I’m sure you know that the Nephilim have many enemies in the Fallen World.”
The cowboy nodded uncertainly.
“I commissioned Doctor Aboud to create a biological weapon to protect us from those enemies. He was also charged with creating a vaccine to protect any Nephilim who might come into contact with this biological agent.”
“I’m with you so far, boss.”
“It seems that the good doctor has fallen victim to the deadly sin of greed. I suspect that he intends to sell both the biological agent and the vaccine on the black market.”
“Gotcha.” Leroy could finally see all the pieces falling into place.
“No matter how urgent our need to vanquish the organization the thieves work for, this matter is more urgent still. Doctor Aboud is nearing completion of his work for me which means he will shortly be in a position to sell his creations to the world.”
“Likely to the Russian I seen him with,” Hunt concluded.
“Most probably,” Metcalf agreed.
“You want me to take care of the whistlepig now?” Leroy rose to leave.
The old man squinted at him, perplexed.
“Sorry, boss. That’s what I call the little doc. You want I should shoot him for you?”
“Not quite yet. His work for me is at a critical stage, and I wouldn’t like to see it interrupted. For now, you are to follow him to confirm that my suspicions are correct. Should he meet this mysterious Russian again, find out who the fellow is and what he does for a living.”
“And then what?”
Metcalf steepled his hands together, considering the question. “Bring me proof that I’m right about the doctor and his friend. Then I’ll allow you to follow your natural inclinations.”
Chapter 29—Cut It Out
Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall and braced herself. It was almost time for one of Mother Rachel’s regular visits. Every few days or so, the matron appeared at this hour with another book of diviner sermons under her arm to harangue Hannah about how she ought to behave. It was amazing the number of deceased diviners who formed opinions on the topic of proper wifely conduct. Of course, given that they were all polygamists, the subject was probably uppermost in their minds.
The girl snapped to attention when she heard someone outside the door. Usually, Mother Rachel at least made a pretense of knocking before she barged in. Not today. The matron entered wordlessly, locked the door behind her and walked to the center of the room. She wasn’t
