Sam spent most of the evening driving round. He didn’t sleep; hiding out, hoping not to be stopped.
He had booked his return ticket already. His plane was set to depart for London in two hours. He would be travelling under the same false name he had used before: George Barnado. His main stash was in London and there were other reasons to go back too.
His whole trip to America was a bust. Nothing had gone right and he’d lost his target. Jack was somewhere in the world with unlimited funds and there was no way for now that Sam could find him. The only person likely to know where he was had not been told. He’d been able to see that in her eyes. Molly had no idea where Jack was. How could he find Catholic if he hadn’t even confided in those he had left behind?
And now Sam was wanted by the police without a home-ground advantage. Better to get back to England, pick up the rest of his stash and have a rethink.
And something else was grinding at his mind. He was letting emotion take over when he’d had such fine control in the past. He had assaulted an old man, leaving him almost dead. He had threatened violence time after time. What would he have done to the girl if not for that policeman? Would he really have tortured her? It was better that he had been stopped; much better; better to leave now before he was tempted to go back and ask harder.
The pressure was there all the time now in his head, driving into the soft tissues of his brain. He had taken aspirin but it wasn’t helping. He was on double the maximum dose.
And one final thing had been niggling at him ever since he left England: something his father said about Lucy: that it was better she was dead; that it was God’s will. He’d been too stunned at the time to question it but now… It filled him with rage to consider anyone saying that about his beautiful perfect sister; absolute rage.
But he had to stay calm.
Logic. Strength. Precision.
He repeated it to himself.
Logic. Strength. Precision.
These were the words he had to focus on.
Things were getting out of hand, he was drifting away from his target, but they weren’t going to get out of hand anymore. Jack was gone. The woman and the old man couldn’t help him or wouldn’t. There was nothing more he could accomplish in America, but there was one simple possibility he still had within his grasp here: Ruben Butler; Molly’s brother.
Sam watched from his hire car across the street as the drug transaction occurred. A lanky Mexican with thick hair down around his face like a dead afro, standing in the doorway of a closed porn shop. Ruben slipping several folded up notes into his hand and took a clear plastic package in return. Ruben was dishevelled and under strain. It was clear in his demeanour that the stress of what Sam had read about in the gossip column was wearing him down. The Butler family were almost broke. Both Molly and Ruben had publicly stated that they should have received Robert Catholic’s money. There had to be resentment there of Jack. And Ruben was flawed; fatally weak. The high profile lifestyle, increasing lack of funds and reported resentment forged a perfect tool.
Sam sneered and chuckled.
Ruben nodded to his dealer and walked away, hands in his pockets, head low. The dealer looked round suspiciously then ambled in the other direction. Sam drew his car out of its parking space and chugged slowly, keeping Ruben in sight as he made his way along the pavement. When there was a gap between parked cars, Sam pulled in ahead of him and wound his window down.
He had booked his return ticket already. His plane was set to depart for London in two hours. He would be travelling under the same false name he had used before: George Barnado. His main stash was in London and there were other reasons to go back too.
His whole trip to America was a bust. Nothing had gone right and he’d lost his target. Jack was somewhere in the world with unlimited funds and there was no way for now that Sam could find him. The only person likely to know where he was had not been told. He’d been able to see that in her eyes. Molly had no idea where Jack was. How could he find Catholic if he hadn’t even confided in those he had left behind?
And now Sam was wanted by the police without a home-ground advantage. Better to get back to England, pick up the rest of his stash and have a rethink.
And something else was grinding at his mind. He was letting emotion take over when he’d had such fine control in the past. He had assaulted an old man, leaving him almost dead. He had threatened violence time after time. What would he have done to the girl if not for that policeman? Would he really have tortured her? It was better that he had been stopped; much better; better to leave now before he was tempted to go back and ask harder.
The pressure was there all the time now in his head, driving into the soft tissues of his brain. He had taken aspirin but it wasn’t helping. He was on double the maximum dose.
And one final thing had been niggling at him ever since he left England: something his father said about Lucy: that it was better she was dead; that it was God’s will. He’d been too stunned at the time to question it but now… It filled him with rage to consider anyone saying that about his beautiful perfect sister; absolute rage.
But he had to stay calm.
Logic. Strength. Precision.
He repeated it to himself.
Logic. Strength. Precision.
These were the words he had to focus on.
Things were getting out of hand, he was drifting away from his target, but they weren’t going to get out of hand anymore. Jack was gone. The woman and the old man couldn’t help him or wouldn’t. There was nothing more he could accomplish in America, but there was one simple possibility he still had within his grasp here: Ruben Butler; Molly’s brother.
Sam watched from his hire car across the street as the drug transaction occurred. A lanky Mexican with thick hair down around his face like a dead afro, standing in the doorway of a closed porn shop. Ruben slipping several folded up notes into his hand and took a clear plastic package in return. Ruben was dishevelled and under strain. It was clear in his demeanour that the stress of what Sam had read about in the gossip column was wearing him down. The Butler family were almost broke. Both Molly and Ruben had publicly stated that they should have received Robert Catholic’s money. There had to be resentment there of Jack. And Ruben was flawed; fatally weak. The high profile lifestyle, increasing lack of funds and reported resentment forged a perfect tool.
Sam sneered and chuckled.
Ruben nodded to his dealer and walked away, hands in his pockets, head low. The dealer looked round suspiciously then ambled in the other direction. Sam drew his car out of its parking space and chugged slowly, keeping Ruben in sight as he made his way along the pavement. When there was a gap between parked cars, Sam pulled in ahead of him and wound his window down.
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