‘Gerry.’ It was Rob Stansfield, calling from Wyoming. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Sure,’ said Gallen, surprised the lawyer had returned his call. ‘I was remembering that night down Arvada, and after all that entertainment in the parking lot, you told me that if I ever needed a favour…’
‘Sure did,’ said Stansfield.
‘Tell you what — gimme an hour of your time gratis, and anything over that you can bill to the Sweet Clover trust account. Fair?’
‘Like I said, Gerry.’
‘I need a company search on a Royal Enterprises. That’s all I got, no location, no principals. It’s a name on a credit card.’
‘Okay. Royal Enterprises,’ said Stansfield. ‘You want the directors, right? ‘
‘I want it all, Rob,’ said Gallen. ‘And I have a Hail Mary, if you’re inclined.’
‘Like what?’
‘Colorado registration on a Cadillac Escalade,’ said Gallen, hoping he wasn’t pushing the friendship. ‘You have any contacts in law enforcement? ‘
‘I play golf with the sheriff on Sunday mornings. That count?’
‘I like the sound of it,’ said Gallen, then read out the rego. ‘By the way, you ever hear from Yvonne’s husband again?’
‘Heard from his lawyers.’
‘What they want?’
‘To give me an apology, wanting to know if I was going to sue.’
Gallen laughed. ‘She’s a nice woman, Rob. You look after her.’
‘About that,’ said Stansfield.
‘Yeah?’
‘You don’t know? ‘
‘Know what?’ said Gallen.
Stansfield sighed. ‘I made my play, Gerry, but honestly? She talks about you more than she talks about those damn horses.’
Gallen ended the call as Aaron emerged from Florita’s house, and they made for the van.
‘So,’ said Aaron as they sped back across the river to the Sheraton Suites, ‘that wasn’t you down at the Ogden yards this morning?’
‘No comment,’ said Gallen, eyeing the driver of an SUV beside them as they waited at a red light.
‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’
The light turned green, and Gallen let the SUV go in front. ‘Why don’t you start?’
‘On what? ‘ said Aaron.
‘You think our new CEO is telling us everything?’
‘She told us what she could.’
‘Could?’
‘She runs a public company,’ said Aaron. ‘Some of what she knows about Harry might not be for shareholder consumption. The New York Stock Exchange and the SEC may have something to say about it, see what I mean?’
‘Is the Oasis deal with Reggie Kransk legal? ‘
‘I don’t know,’ said Aaron. ‘But Florita’s a lawyer and if she’s nervous about the subject, then Harry Durville might have left a headache. So, the Britannia yards, huh? Cops talking about a shootout, a body found with bullet holes in it?’
‘Not now, Aaron.’
Aaron lit a smoke and gave a direction that would swing them south onto the Macleod Trail and down to Pump Hill. ‘Thought I might be able to help.’
‘Help with what?’
‘Any problems.’
‘I didn’t shoot anyone, Aaron,’ said Gallen.
‘I know.’
Gallen gripped the wheel and made to swing to the shoulder but in Alberta they didn’t put shoulders on their expressways. There was only concrete wall, and he straightened the van a few inches from the grey barrier and moved back to the speed of the traffic.
‘Whoa,’ said Aaron, legs stiff against the bulkhead.
‘You know what, Aaron?’ Gallen made himself breathe out. ‘The fuck do you know?’
‘One of the old crowd called me a few hours ago.’
‘What’d he want?’
‘Wanted to know the score.’
‘Why?’
‘Pentagon’s been following an ex-spook’s movements, Gerry, and the trail ended with a Calgary police report of a helicopter, gunshots and a former US Marine lying dead in a property belonging to Oasis Energy. As far as these things go, it was a courtesy call, see what’s up.’
Gallen cheered up slightly. ‘They said ex-spook?’
‘What my man said.’
They drove in silence, the buzz of adrenaline filling up the car.
‘So who’s the ex-spy?’ said Gallen. ‘You get a name?’
‘No. What’s your involvement?’
‘We abducted a team that infiltrated my father’s house. They’d been tailing us since we met Mulligan in Del Rey. You wouldn’t judge me for that.’
‘No judgment,’ said Aaron. ‘But tell me you didn’t kill the Marine.’
‘It wasn’t me,’ said Gallen, watching the lights flickering on over the expressway.
‘Who? Winter? Ford?’
‘This going back to your buddy?’
Aaron snorted. ‘I don’t have a choice, Gerry. Don’t play naive with me.’
‘Okay,’ said Gallen. ‘We set a trap in a motel up near the university—’
‘U of C?’
‘Yep,’ said Gallen. ‘I got the call during that morning meeting with the PR guy. My team was holding them at the Britannia yards.’
‘So?’
‘So I go down there and discover that one of the team is my old gunnie, Bren Dale.’
Aaron’s forehead creased. ‘The guy who was suddenly unavailable for this gig?’
‘That’s him.’
‘Who killed him? ‘
‘I don’t know,’ said Gallen, shaking his head.
‘So there was a helo?’
‘I was about to let Bren go,’ said Gallen. ‘He would have backed off. He had a bullet hole in the leg and his heart wasn’t in it, anyway.’
‘So?’
‘So I wanted to know why he’s following me and suddenly there’s shooters bursting into the room. They’re firing at me, but when it’s over there’s a hole in Bren’s chest.’
‘What about the other guy?’
‘The small white guy? We think he’s working as Simon Smith — he didn’t kill Bren, if that’s what you’re asking,’ said Gallen. ‘So, can we still operate?’
‘I assume so, but we won’t be welcome south of the border. Unless—’
Gallen looked sideways. ‘Yes?’
‘Unless we can give them a name.’
‘The shooter?’
‘The thought had occurred.’
‘Shit,’ said Gallen. ‘What are we getting into?’
‘We’re in it already,’ said Aaron, chaining a fresh smoke. ‘Take this exit.’
CHAPTER 46
They watched the street from the van, the large houses of Pump Hill looking like mini-mansions in the dusk light. Gallen wasn’t up-to-date on what print journalists earned, but this street seemed a long way above what most of them could afford.
Reaching between his feet, Aaron pulled up a black laptop bag and opened it.
‘What’s the plan?’ said Gallen, lighting a smoke and letting his eyes wander along the street. A woman walked a dog, a man swept a driveway.
‘Thought I’d return Mr Flint’s laptop,’ said Aaron, opening the laptop and booting up a blank MS Word document. Pulling down one of the menu bars, he selected ‘record’ and a red dot glowed at the bottom of the document.
Carefully closing it, he slid the computer into the bag and opened his door. For as long as the battery held out the laptop was now a voice-activated recording device networked to the other laptop in the van; whatever was recorded on the Word document’s sound file was accessible on Aaron’s computer.