And, with that done, Baylor did another quick glance around and slipped out of the apartment. As he headed down the hallway in the same direction that the other guy had left, Baylor dashed down the stairs. Just as he went toward the front door to leave the building, a voice called out from behind him. He turned to see the middleman he’d been chasing was now behind him and holding a handgun.
“What the hell are you doing back here again?” he snarled.
“Wow,” Baylor said. “Is that any way to welcome somebody?”
“There’s no welcome for you here,” he snapped. “What were you doing in the apartment?”
“It occurred to me,” Baylor said, “that maybe the dead guy wasn’t who I thought he was. I was thinking that maybe it was his brother instead.”
At that, the gunman stopped, his eyebrows shooting up. “What?”
It was obvious he hadn’t considered that idea. “Hear me out. Their features are quite similar. Their heights and builds are very much the same. They’re not twins obviously, but, in death, it’s amazing just how much the twisted features can resemble each other even more and throw off the initial impression,” he said.
The gunman shook his head. “I doubt it in this case.”
“Why is that?”
But he didn’t have an answer, or if he did, he wouldn’t share it.
“Did you actually see the body?” he asked the gun-toting middleman.
“I did,” he said.
“So you don’t know for sure. It could have been him or his brother.”
“It has to be him though,” he said.
“Why is that?” Baylor asked, but, at that, the gunman shut up again. “Listen. I get that you have some kind of relationship, even if it’s a business one,” he said, “but you also know how twisted this can get. Plus, death is not only is an ending for some but also an opportunity for others.” At that, the gunman frowned and stared off in the distance. “Particularly if he owes you money or if he was supposed to do something and didn’t, or if he got a better offer.”
At the sound of a better offer, the guy looked almost apoplectic. “He better not have a better offer,” he growled.
“Is his brother in the same industry?”
“No,” he said, “the brother, he’s a good guy.”
“You mean, was.”
He shook his head. “No. That would be a shit move if that’s what he did,” he said. “Horton is a good guy.”
“And the dead guy?”
“That’s Henry,” he said.
“Right, so Henry and Horton are brothers. One is in the industry and got into trouble. The other one has probably been trying to get his brother out of trouble for a long time.” Hence his association with a bad apple brother made Horton seem like a bad apple too. Sad, but easily understood.
“Isn’t that always the way?” the middleman said, fatigue in his voice, as if suddenly tired of everything.
“Look. I get it. It’s not the world that we want to live in, but somehow we got into this, and now it’s almost impossible to get out,” he said. “I just need to make sure that I’ve got the true ID for the dead guy.”
“What do you care about it?”
“He’s been going after a young woman,” Baylor said. “I need to know he can’t go after her anymore.”
The gunman snorted. “God almighty, this guy and his dick. Jesus. He can’t ever seem to make a reasonable decision without getting into trouble.”
“Well, he obviously was doing something for you.”
“He was. And he screwed that up too. But now, if I find out that he’s still alive and that he’s left me holding the bag, I’ll be beyond pissed.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Baylor said quietly. “That’s not what anybody wants.”
“No, it isn’t, but too often it’s what we end up with. Incompetence, arrogance, and greed.”
Baylor couldn’t argue with that sentiment. He saw it time and time again himself. “And if you were hired by any of the governments involved in this kidnapping,” he said, “the guy who was kidnapped has died.”
There was a sudden silence in the air. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said briskly.
“I know you’re trying to tell me that you don’t know anything about it, but hear me when I tell you that the couple who was kidnapped—the governor and his wife—are dead. Both of them. Which puts those involved up on felony charges.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he said, waving the gun around, “and you can’t say that I did.”
“Well, the guy you’re looking for? If he survived? … Was he involved in the kidnapping? If so, he’s one of the few who actually survived,” he said.
“Not my problem,” he said, and he took several steps backward.
“Let’s hope you don’t stay in the business,” Baylor said. “Governments can’t afford to let anybody know what they’ve gotten involved in. They often hire contractors to take care of business, but, when something goes bad, you can bet the contractors would be the ones left holding the bag in the end.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the gunman said. “Don’t go walking into that apartment anymore, you hear me?” he snapped. And then, as if uncaring of what Baylor did, he turned and walked away. But there was just enough speed to his step that it was more like running away.
Baylor headed back outside and leaned against the wall in the shadows, studying the surroundings.
Hudson slipped up beside him and asked, “How did that go?”
Baylor quickly reiterated the conversation with his new friend.
“Interesting,” Hudson murmured. “Not exactly definitive but …”
“I
