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“We’d like to know who we are dealing with, and why,” I say. “You’d be doing us a courtesy if there’s a criminal coming. It would be good to know what sort of person we made a booking with.”
“She’s a thief.”
Jason and I glance at each other. Sounds like she stole from Luca Vitori, which seems unlikely, even given her penchant for terrible decisions.
“Well, she’s not here,” I say. “As I said, the booking was made, but nobody ever showed.”
Barry steps forward, further attempting to defuse the situation. “She could be anywhere. Signed up for five different vacations from here to Antarctica,” he says. “Smart cookie.”
Big Dick feels otherwise. The string of curses that emits from his lips is quite spectacular. He doesn’t think she’s a smart cookie. He thinks she’s a bitch who deserves to die. There’s something personally aggrieved in his approach. I wonder if he was one of the weak links in the chain she exploited.
“Let’s go,” he says. “We’ll find the little cunt. Don’t think we won’t. Luca Vitori is going to get his money back, and she’s going to get what she deserves.”
“Alright. Well. We have an elderly tour group booked in a day or so, they’ll be in to learn about survival, so keep an eye out for some geriatrics wobbling about the place. They tend to spook easy and make complaints.”
I am lying because I know they don’t want to deal with normal people. People who will take real offense to their luxury adventure holidays being interrupted by armed men. People who will talk and be missed by loving children and grandchildren. People who will make a mess.
“Yeah, we’ll leave the Disney tours to you boys,” Big Dick says. Barry gives us an apologetic wave and they file back onto their hired boat, and they putt off back down the river toward the village. They’re way too close for comfort, but at least they’re gone. Probably. We need to sweep for scouts. If it were me, I would have dropped a man nearby to keep a covert eye on things, make initial contact, and then pretend to leave. Best way to flush a fugitive out is to make them feel like they’ve gotten clear.
Jason and I walk and wait long enough to make sure that doesn’t happen, following the boat back downriver to ensure that there are no drop-offs. We can’t ensure they don’t come back, or that they didn’t already drop a spy, but it’s the best we can do for now, and it gives us time to think.
“We were warned,” Jason says on the walk back.
“Yes. We were.” Bill’s limitations stop with the law. He can tell me if someone has active warrants or previous interaction with authorities. He can't tell me if the person I’m inquiring about is mixed up with outlaws if they haven’t been under scrutiny.
The only saving grace is that Aslin has the sense to make herself properly scarce. She’s so good at it that it takes several hours for her to emerge, which, on the heels of her last little excursion, has not put either one of us in a good mood.
The light is almost completely gone when Aslin emerges sheepishly from the undergrowth, still wearing the collar I put on her neck. It looks a little outlandish now, because the notion of collaring someone like Aslin is like trying to chain the wind. No sooner do I think I’ve gotten her under control than she turns even wilder.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Jason growls the question. Aslin already has her palms lifted in a placating measure, like that’s going to make this alright.
“Okay. So. Guys. You’re probably going to be angry about this, but I figure I should tell you. There are some people who are coming after me due to a misunderstanding.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
Her eyes dart around in a way that makes me think whatever comes after that look is going to be a partial truth at absolute best.
“The kind of misunderstanding where a guy in the mafia thinks I owe him several million dollars.”
“Do you?”
“Technically. Maybe.”
“Aslin,” I say her name while taking a deep breath. “If you don’t tell me exactly what’s happening here this second, what happens next will make you wish the armed men from your mafia friend had taken you.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible,” she grins. She’s just so very pleased with her own cleverness. There’s a certain madness about her, a self-congratulatory mood that makes it impossible for harsh reality to impinge now. “Luca would have them kill me, for sure. I have no doubt they’d shoot me in the head as soon as they found me. They don’t want me alive. They can’t really even risk taking the time to torture me.”
“So your plan was to come here on vacation? And hope they didn’t show up and murder you in front of us?”
