“I never thought about the guy again. A couple months later, suddenly I’m on the phone with the man whose boy I killed.”
“What was that call like?”
“Which one? We’ve talked twice so far.”
Gentry blew out a chestful of air. “That was a mistake.”
Court sipped the coffee. “I thought I could get some operational intel. Maybe I did. But he also got in my head a little bit. The people you go through on the way…you never expect to hear from their parents.”
“What’s this Mick’s plan?”
“A simple one. Kill me or die trying.”
Jim Gentry nodded. “Make sure he dies trying. Vengeance is a powerful drug. It’ll never leave his system.”
“Thing is…he’s not coming after me for vengeance. He’s coming after me because he thinks someday his grandson is going to become addicted to that drug. He’s doing this for a damn baby somewhere in Northern Ireland.”
The older man surprised his son now. “The man’s logic is…well, I can’t say it doesn’t make sense. You’d do the same, wouldn’t you? Do the business yourself so your kin didn’t have to worry about it?”
“Don’t know. Never had kids.”
Court thought Jim appeared a little disappointed. Then he said, “This Irishman. You’re going to have to end him if you ever want peace.”
“And if his grandson comes after me?”
“By then you’ll be in your sixties. Younger than me, but not by much.” Jim shrugged. “You might see the world very differently then. You might not. You might have to kill him—”
“Kill thekid?”
“No, Court. He’ll be an adult. You might have to kill theadultcoming after you for something that happened a long time ago.”
Court’s phone buzzed; he saw that it was Hanley and answered it in front of his dad. “What’s up?”
“Six, we’ve got aseriousfucking problem.”
Forty-Nine
Court leaned back in his chair. “Can’t wait to hear it.”
“From some camera footage near the incident, Jim Pace learned that the man who killed Lewis Shaw was at least six-foot-three; it was definitely a Gauntlet employee,notWhetstone. For some reason, though, the killer wore a hat and a coat similar to the images we have of Whetstone.”
“Thatcan’t be good.”
“There’s more. A Gauntlet aircraft flew from D.C. to Jacksonville early this morning. Arrived at seven thirty a.m.” Court rose from the table, his phone to his ear. He looked out the kitchen window towards the street. “Lacy checked cameras at the fixed-base operator there at the airport. Six men left at seven forty-five a.m., driving a pair of—”
Court interrupted. “Let me guess. Gray Chevy Suburbans?”
Hanley groaned, then said, “How did you know that?”
In a voice low and slow, Court said, “Because they just rolled past the house. There’s a farm road a hundred yards up the street, figure they’re going to access the empty property across the road here, park behind some trees. Then fan out, hit the house.”
Thunder rumbled outside.
“Shit!” Hanley said. “I’ll call the local sheriffs and—”
Court said, “No. Don’t call them. There’s a storm about to hit; it’s goingto be chaos around here. The deputies who show up will get slaughtered by a half dozen trained hitters.”
“What do you need, then?”
