“Three strokes, sir. Impressive,” a man says from behind me.
“Tasker? Why are you here?” As I straighten from retrieving the ball I see him standing off to the side. My caddytakes the ball and putter from me, and I look to Tasker, waiting for an explanation.
“There’s been a development, sir. It’s confirmed by our surveillance that Miss Tarrant is now staying in the house she inherited from her father.”
“How long?”
“Before she leaves? Unknown. She’s driven into town with the McCluskers, Ron and Molly. They own a bookstore, Pots and Pages, or something?”
“You can walk back, Sean. Business, sorry.” The man frowns but collects his bag and joins the caddy. “Pages and Pottery,” I correct Tasker as we walk to the golf cart and I slide into the driver’s seat. “Get in. You can add whatever else you know about her on the way to the clubhouse. I went to school with her, you know?” The cart accelerates quickly when I press the pedal, and Tasker only just gets in in time, tucks his feet in, hangs on. It’s a test for his reflexes and he passes.
“I didn’t know that, no, sir. We think she’s going to go through all the papers he left.”
“But they’re safe?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, what is the problem? Are you afraid of her sniffing about in town? She was cute, I recall, at elementary school. Still cute?”
He shrugs, apparently thrown by my question. “Perhaps, sir. These are a few of the stills.”
I stop the cart and scroll through the photos on the tablet. She’s all grown up, and her breasts are perky, her waist slim. “Nice tits.” I waggle my head. “Not bad. We’re the same age. Get me some better images. Videos. Keep an eye on her. If she does anything that might compromise the institute, we will act.”
“Yes, sir.”
The rest of his briefing isn’t much, and I let him off at the clubhouse then step out. “Tasker, we get her signature on a blank document somehow. Fake it if you have to.”
“Sir.”
He doesn’t ask why. Good.
“And has Davis said how many are coming in on that latest shipment?”
“Bodies? I am not privy to that information.” His frown returns. “I can enquire?”
“No. Tell Davis to meet me at the institute in an hour. Get going back to surveillance. I need you there. And that house had better be clean. You had months.”
He scuttles off while I keep heading to the bar. One whisky then I’ll have to get back to work myself. Five more bodies should be coming in. We need the maximum number to get this research tracking as fast as possible. The most recent prediction was another six months before we will have a viable result.
Not sure if telling Davis that is unacceptable will help, but it’s worth a try. With my shoulder propped on the wall beside the entrance, I tap a note on my phone,Tell Davis get a fucking move on or else,then slip it back in my pocket.
A hand signal with one finger raised is enough for the bartender. The outdoor tables are free at this time of day. Which I like. So, Hailey is back after all these years. If she interferes with our operation or seems likely to, I will have to do something about her too. Her father went down easy.
The waiter delivers the whisky, along with a tray of snacks.
Half-smiling, I raise the glass of amber liquid to my lips and sip. Grimacing as the fiery spirit traverses my throat, Istretch and lean back into the chair. If she messes with us, I wonder if I can use her.
“I do love my revenge,” I murmur and take a gulp, hissing. It’s a good fifty-year-aged whisky that stings a cut inside my mouth. I prod it with my tongue. That’s from the girl last night. Her bruises are worse. The altercation was memorable. She wasn’t keen on being taken while Davis and Calder watched and she chipped one of my champagne glasses in the ruckus. Fucking her from behind with the saltshaker in her ass was fun. Lucky girl.
I take a second swallow. Revenge is best served with cold whisky.
Revenge.
Hailey’s father was cremated. With her signature, if she dies, we can get her body for the cryonics. I can instruct them to claim it for the research.
Now that would be the best revenge ever for her prying. Nosy little bitch. It’s one of the worst traits in women.
I think it through, eating a few of the nuts from the bowl.
