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memorable and had led to their discovery. Amateurs aren’t usually known for their patience, and I figured that they wouldn’t wait long before they decided that they could achieve faster results by forcing Richard’s whereabouts from Billie. Whether that would come in the form of intimidation or physical assault, they weren’t going to get away with it.
    I picked up my phone and checked the time. It was mid-afternoon in Hill End. Back in Tampa it would be early evening. Tuesday evenings Rink attended a mixed martial arts club, adding to his considerable karate skills by the inclusion of jujitsu grappling work and some boxing. He’d encouraged me to attend the sessions with him, but I struggled when it came to sport. My instincts wouldn’t allow me to tap out of a hold, and I feared that I’d end up with a broken arm or, worse, break the arm of some other poor sap. I respected Rink’s self-control, and understood my lack was a weakness in a training environment. But out here in the real world, it was my never-say-die attitude that often saved my arse, and training for sport worried me in case it was blunted by fair competition. Then again, sometimes it got me in trouble, and Rink’s calming influence was all that kept me out jail.
    ‘Yo, brother!’
    ‘You OK, Rink? You sound out of breath.’
    ‘I’m good. Just come outta the cage.’
    ‘I can hear you sweating from here.’
    ‘You know me, Hunter, I never break a sweat.’
    ‘Dream on, old man.’ The pleasantries over, I asked, ‘Are you free to talk?’
    ‘Just gimme a second.’ Over my cell I heard congratulations shared – Rink and his opponent extolling the other’s skills in ass-whuppery – and Rink moved away from the fighting area to a quiet corner. ‘So what’s the deal: anything in Cooper’s story?’
    ‘I’m looking at a guy casing out Billie Womack as we speak.’
    ‘Good guy or bad?’
    ‘Cooper’s checking, but I’m going with bad.’
    I told him how the stinking man and his suited partner had both been in the gallery earlier, and how I’d spotted Smelly again outside. ‘I’m guessing the guy doesn’t have some sort of fungal complaint. Before coming here, I think he was holed up near Billie’s place in the hills, maybe hiding out in the woods while keeping an eye on her, using the fallen leaves to camouflage the colour of his clothing.’
    ‘Or he could live in an apartment with a rising damp problem,’ Rink said.
    ‘Whatever. He’s taking too much interest in Billie for it to be a good reason.’
    ‘You said she’s kinda famous among those arty-farty types . . .’
    ‘Already considered and discarded that idea.’
    ‘Not like you to jump to conclusions, brother.’ His tone said otherwise.
    ‘I’ve grown to trust my instincts.’
    ‘So you want me up there?’
    ‘That goes without saying. How soon can you get here?’
    ‘Tomorrow soon enough?’
    ‘It’ll have to do.’ Earlier I’d given Rink the details of Billie’s home address, but added the location of her gallery now. I wondered if it was safer to keep Billie in town for the duration rather than go back to her farm. In town there was less chance that her watchers would make a move on her, therefore it was a safer location. But to find out what their interest in her was I required them to act, and that meant allowing them to follow her home. Also, we had to make sure that her behaviour and habits didn’t obviously change: her watchers might deduce she had something to hide and step up their operation. ‘We’ll be at Billie’s farm. Will you come straight there?’
    ‘Will do, brother. You want me to bring Harvey?’
    Harvey Lucas was a buddy of ours based in Little Rock, Arkansas. He’d joined us on a few previous jobs where discretion was the order of the day, and the possibility of violence was likely. He’d proved a good man to have at our sides, plus if anyone could research our enemies it was Harvey. But I felt a word of caution whisper