Chapter 20
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear with the promise of heat and glittering sunshine. It was still hot even though autumn now beckoned, with its shortening days and cooler nights, the humidity tempered by warm breezes from the ocean. Katy Matthews decided it was a perfect day for a picnic on the beach.
Brodie soon realised he had absolutely no chance of a long lie in bed smooching with Tara, as Katy bounced in after banging on the door to alert both of them that she was wide awake and raring to go. This time she didn't crash onto the bed, and careful of Brodie's bad leg she crawled in between them, Moron following behind her. The big dog slid onto the foot of the bed and tried - unsuccessfully - not be noticed. Despite everyone's protestations that it was 'not allowed', Moron just draped himself in a groaning heap on the quilt and happily went to sleep - something which Brodie fervently wished he could do himself instead of hauling his tired carcass out of bed and going on a goddamn picnic.
Katy elbowed her way in between her aunt and a still drowsy Brodie.
"Fraaaa ... aank ..." Katy sang, and shuffled, all arms and legs, onto her side and gazed at Brodie's face, the big ex-soldier steadfastly refusing to wake up - or so it seemed to an impatient Katy.
"Mmff. Go away." Brodie tried to go back to sleep, his eyes tightly shut. He felt fingers stroke his face. It tickled. He tried again. "Get lost, short-stop - you're bein' a pain-in-the-you-know-where. I need my beauty sleep, so take a hike."
He heard a heady, noisy sigh of impatience and then everything when worryingly quiet. He relaxed a little. Then he felt little fingers tweaking his moustache, pulling at individual hairs thoughtfully. It was very irritating, and made him sneeze.
"Hey! Leave the 'tache alone. I'm sleepin'!"
Another sigh, this one with a soft groan mixed in with it.
"So when are ya gonna wake up??"
Brodie grimaced in satisfaction and snuggled deeper under the bedclothes.
"Later. Much, much later. Go read a book or somethin'."
Katy's fingers suddenly pinched his nose experimentally.
Nope, he thought. She ain't gonna get me to move. I'm tired and sore and I want at least another hour's sleep, and she can just wait.
He felt the small fingers cease pinching his nose. All was quiet. As minutes ticked by, Brodie began to drift into that pleasurable place between wakefulness and sleep despite the bed being somewhat cluttered with bodies, both human and canine. He was warm, cosy and sleepy - until daylight invaded his gaze as Katy pried back one of his eyelids and peered into his face closely.
"Wha - ?" He blinked the eye not being poked by Katy's finger.
"Aw Frank, when are you gonna get up??? You've been asleep for hours!!!"
Brodie finally realised there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he was going to get another moment's peace to have a quiet Sunday morning snooze'n smooch, and he opened his other eye and glared at the miscreant. Katy glared back. Brodie was impressed, but he didn't show it.
"You are nothin' but a pest, you know that?" he growled, and flopped over onto his back with a groan. He rolled his head to look at Katy, now sitting gleefully on the bed watching Brodie with expectancy. Tara just lay back and watched, brown eyes alive with amusement. She just loved seeing Brodie squirm, that was obvious. It was his firm opinion that she had a real nasty streak in her sometimes. Katy just looked smug.
He sighed.
"Okay, okay, I know when I'm beat. Get off the bed you harridan, an' let me haul my bod out of bed will ya? My life is hell, y'know that? Just hell ..."
****************
As Brodie dressed he thought about the move to the house. They needed to be out of the accommodation unit pretty quickly, he figured, looking at the clutter in the small bedroom. The living room wasn't much better now it contained their purchases from Santa Teresa, although the larger pieces of furniture had been dumped at the house for the time being until they could organise the move. But they were still short of a lot of stuff, and Brodie had to find some way of making up the shortfall. Plus, he thought, he still had some major headaches with regard to the enclosures and the breeding program ... not to mention the security systems for the luxury villas. Ah well - today was Sunday, and it was a rare day off, and he was just going to damn well enjoy it.
He slipped into his cut-offs and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The face that looked back at him was still the same, but the expression had changed, he realised with a jolt. Gone was the haunted look, although the blue eyes were still thoughtful and a little guarded. Before he eased into his teeshirt he studied his body for a second. He had filled out a little, he decided, but it wasn't a bad thing. Regular food, restful sleep and hard work had taken away the wariness and lean hunger of his frame although he was still rangy. But he looked better ... fitter. The cut-offs were a big step for him. He usually wore them in the evenings when he was alone or with Tara and Katy, but he had never worn them at work or whilst associating with his team. His left leg was dreadfully scarred, the muscle at the back puckered and drawn, and he realised with a lurch that that was the reason he liked his old bermuda shorts - they hid the scar ... the evidence of his disability. Perhaps, he thought, it was about time to face the world as he was - Frank Brodie was not a cripple. He was a man with a job, a home and a family ... he was a man who had respect not only from others but also for himself.
He grinned. He was loved and wanted and he revelled in it.
Pulling the teeshirt over his head, he lifted his sneakers and wandered through to the living room where an impatient Katy was waiting to help him tie his laces, a job she had taken upon herself since she had discovered how painful it was for Brodie to do it.
What stunned Brodie was his own willingness to allow her to help him - he had always been averse to being helped. Since childhood he had looked out for himself and no-one else, he had covered his own ass because he had to. Growing up in the lower East Side of New York with no father and a mother who was always working, he had learned very quickly to look out for himself because there was no-one to do it for him. Since then he had always been a loner, a misfit, someone who didn't fit in and he had made it too difficult for anyone to love or care for him ... at least, until Tara came along. And she had fought tooth and nail with Brodie to do so. But she had won, and, Brodie noted ruefully, he was glad of it.
Once Katy had bullied him sweetly into letting her help him with his sneakers and tie the laces, it was time to go. The jeep was loaded with chairs and food and God only knew what else, Brodie thought, and Katy caught his hand impatiently and tugged him out of the door, letting Tara lock up behind them. Once buckled into her seat, Katy yelled with delight as Moron thumped onto the seat beside her, panting with excitement. Brodie eased into the passenger seat and let Tara drive, and soon they were heading off along the track towards the beach, Katy's sun-washed honey-blonde hair blowing in the warm breeze.
**************
The track led down to the beach below their new house, sitting perched on the hill above them. It was only a small bay, but the sand was untouched. Golden and smoothed by wind and tide, it was cradled on either side by a stark outcrop of high, tumbled rocks that stretched in long fingers out into the endless reaches of the blue ocean. At the base of the rocks pebbles hissed and rattled pleasantly as they were washed ceaselessly by the tide.
Tara brought the jeep to a halt just before they reached the stretch of pristine sand. Katy tumbled out of her seat and in a rush of giddy joy immediately ran pell-mell onto the beach, arms waving in sheer exuberance, Moron lolloping behind her barking noisily.
Calling to the child and telling her not to go out of sight, Tara began to unload the picnic gear.
"Frank, can you give me a hand here ..."
There was no answer. She heaved two folding chairs out of the jeep.
"Frank - "
Turning, she saw Brodie sitting stock still in the jeep, his blue eyes fixed on the heavy grassy undergrowth that bordered the beach and crept back into the island. She frowned and dropped the deckchairs on the ground. Walking around to Brodie's side she touched his arm and he started, as though woken from a dream.
"Frank, are you okay?"
Brodie nodded.
"Yeah ... yeah, I'm all right. D'you recognise this place?"
She glanced at the trees and coarse grasses behind them ... they looked familiar. The remains of a tall fence awaited removal by the work squads. Then it struck her.
"God, Frank ... I didn't realise. This is the beach where we landed with Eddie and Davis."
"And Kovacs," he added.
When Davis had hired Brodie to come to the island to rescue Kelsey Cunningham this had been the easiest landing place, and they had installed their testy electronics expert Kovacs right here on the beach. Brodie had given him his old Winchester carbine and warned him about the danger the creatures that infested the island posed … but the baboons had killed him - torn him to pieces. Brodie shuddered. He could still remember the bloody, mutilated body lying in the undergrowth … Kovacs had been gnawed upon …
"Damn …" Brodie dropped his head and closed his eyes, the memories coming thick and fast.
"Frank … Frank sweetheart, we can go somewhere else if you like …" Tara was concerned at how pale he had become. She thought he had learned to deal with the memories, beaten them into submission, but it appeared she had been seriously mistaken.
He looked up at her, squinting sideways in the bright sunshine.
"I'm fine, gal. Don't worry about me, I'm okay. It's just I'd forgotten about it, I guess. We'll stay - besides, short-stop's enjoying the hell out herself and she'd just be goddamn' miserable if we left. If we'd been here a few months ago it might've been different, but now … now I can deal with it." He gave her a shaky grin. "C'mon, Tara - let's chill out and have a picnic, huh?"
Tara leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"Okay. As long as you're sure. Remember, I was there too … you're not alone in this, I promise. We can help each other, huh? How's that?"
Brodie nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, it's past an' gone." His grin became quirky. "I'm hungry as hell, so let's go get set up an' eat. Feed me, woman!"
Tara Matthews snorted in amusement and began to haul the chairs down onto the beach.
*****************
The day seemed full of endless small pleasures.
Katy splashed about in rock pools, pointing out to an amused Brodie all of the tiny creatures she had discovered on her 'field trip' with Irwin. She scrambled over rocks with Moron and the big dog bounced with delight as the little girl threw his newly-acquired red ball along the beach, Moron leaving huge skid-marks in the damp sand. The raucous game of softball they played, with Brodie pitching and Tara fielding Katy's wildly-bunted balls.
Brodie enjoyed the softball game most of all. Katy was keen to improve, and Brodie brought to bear all of his skills learned on the melting tarred streets during hot July afternoons in the lower East Side of his youth. Tara watched with great amusement as Brodie showed her how to use the impetus of her body to give the ball more punch, his face frowning in concentration as he guided a serious Katy's arm through the swing.
She realised these were rare, precious moments for the big man. Relaxed and smiling, he had stripped off his teeshirt and stood in the surf barefoot and wearing nothing but his cutoffs, hands on his hips, totally at ease. Tara knew she had never seen him like this before, but she also knew she wanted to see him like this again, and often.
The day was wonderful.
But their fun came to an end as Brodie decided to field balls against both Tara and Katy's advice, and a particularly wild shot sent him in a hopping run to catch it, only for his damaged leg to finally give out under him. He was dumped unceremoniously onto the soft sand, but even the agony shooting through his thigh and back couldn't dampen his good humour. He lay laughing through the pain, Tara and a frightened Katy fussing and worried, helping him struggle to sit up.
"That's it!" Tara said, frowning as Brodie got his breathing back under control. "No more! You take it easy for the rest of the day, Frank, no more fooling about!"
Katy, sitting beside Brodie, was almost in tears. It had been her wild 'homer' that had caused Brodie to fall, and she was mortified. Brodie lifted a big hand and chucked the end of her nose, telling her to stop worrying - it was his own fault he had fallen, his and no-one else's.
"Forget it, short-stop - these things happen. Right ladies, help me up, will ya? I'm gettin' hungry again!"
Tara and Katy helped him to his feet and supported him as he limped back to the place where they had spread out blankets and cushions, all shaded by two old but huge parasols.
For the rest of the day they lazed.
Katy, when she wasn't fussing over Brodie, poked about in the rock pools and played with Moron. They had coolers full of food and sodas, and Tara changed into a simple black one-piece swim-suit much to Brodie's delight. But they didn't swim in the sea - Brodie warned Katy not to go further than ankle-deep in the tempting waves, and she was definitely not allowed to play around in the shallows. There were sharks infesting this beautiful coast, and as Brodie warned her the memories surfaced again ... he could hear himself dryly telling Kelsey Cunningham that they couldn't swim for it as they attempted to escape and leave San Miguel Island to the baboons. But that was a lifetime ago it seemed, and even the sharks would not be a threat for much longer when the shark-proof nets were set on booms across the mouth of the bay, making it safe for visitors.
He lay quietly in the shade on the warm, comfortable blankets, cushions under his head and one under his bad leg at the knee, and dozed. The warm tickle of the breeze soothed the healing cuts on the exposed parts of his shoulders, and he heard the soft chatter of Katy Matthews as she built a sandcastle and babbled to an attentive Moron, who lay panting beside her. He felt Tara's presence beside him as she sat, curled against more cushions with her feet tucked beneath his good thigh, absorbed in a book.
Frank Brodie had never felt so relaxed in his life.
Is this what it's like to be happy? he thought, surprised at the realisation of it. Because if it is, I could get used to it ...
He was on the point of dropping off to sleep when he felt Katy's slight body drop down beside him, the child letting out a noisy groan of contentment. He heard a deep, gusty yawn. Katy Matthews was a very tired but blissfully happy little girl. Her arms and legs sprawled against him in pleasurable abandonment, her trust in him complete and total. Propping herself up on an elbow she reached over Brodie's recumbent body, and lifting DD from the toy's place beside the big man she cuddled the battered toy to her. She rested a head on Brodie's shoulder and sighed.
The three of them were quiet and still for long minutes, then Katy turned and propped her chin on Brodie's shoulder.
"Frank ..."
Brodie was almost asleep.
"Mm-hmm ..."
"Do you have a daddy?"
Brodie's eyes snapped open and he felt Tara tense beside him. Where the hell did that come from? He wondered what to say. Rolling his head on the cushion he looked into Katy's questioning brown eyes.
"Did have once. But he's been gone a long time." Brodie was guarded, not sure as to how much to tell her.
Tara was to all appearances still reading her book, but in reality she was listening intently to Katy and Brodie. She wondered if she should say something, not knowing how Brodie would take the question. He had never been comfortable with queries about his past. But Katy was unaware of the tension and continued, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"Where did he go?" she said, watching Brodie's face closely.
Brodie took a deep breath.
"He died when I was little. Younger than you are now."
"How?"
"Katy, sweetheart, you shouldn't ask personal questions, it's not polite - " Tara interrupted, frowning.
"It's okay," Brodie said, surprising himself. "I don't mind." He gazed into Katy's eyes. "He died in a place called Korea. He was a soldier ... an infantryman. A sergeant. Managed to get himself shot an' left my Mom and me on our own." He couldn't prevent the hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "She ... she never got over it, I guess."
He had a sudden vision of his mother's worn face and the tears that fell almost daily for a while, until she withdrew into herself and became distant, preoccupied. He remembered her slow descent into terrible depression ... the screaming rages, the neglect ... the beatings. She was angry at Brodie, his father and the world for leaving her almost destitute with a small child. When the authorities had finally taken notice and removed the battered boy from her care it was almost too late. Young Francis Brodie was withdrawn, almost monosyllabic, lonely and prone to angry outbursts. The steady stream of foster homes hadn't helped, and by the time Brodie joined the Marines he had grown into a touchy, difficult young man, a loner with a temper like a grizzly. But he had taken to the Marines like a duck to water - the Corps provided discipline, a structured lifestyle and a way of working out his anger. He never saw his mother again, and when he heard of her death in Bellvue he had barely registered her loss. He did not go to the funeral.
"My mom said my daddy was a bad man." Katy's voice broke into his awareness.
Brodie frowned. This was new. He glanced at Tara and saw her give a small shrug. She had no idea where it had come from either.
Katy lifted DD and placed the much-loved toy squarely on Brodie's bare chest, the duck's head flopping comically.
"Mom said he was bad, but I'm not so sure. She said he would come and take me away and maybe hurt me, so I was never, ever to say I wanted to see him or anything, but he gave me DD so I don't think he's really a bad man, do you?"
Brodie cocked an eyebrow at her. How could he tell her that her father was a murdering, evil bastard with a talent for torturing his enemies? She didn't need to hear that. And just how the hell did Esposito give the girl the toy? Katy's mother would never have allowed it. He pondered the problem for a second, then answered.
"He gave ya DD?"
Katy nodded, her chin digging into Brodie's shoulder, but he ignored it.
"Yep. But I was real little then ... I was still in kindergarten an' I was just a baby."
Brodie had to grin at that one. It could only have been several years ago, but it was obviously a lifetime to someone who was seven and three quarters. He thought he would push her a little and see where it took them.
"So, you met your dad, huh?"
Katy was silent for a while. Brodie watched her out of the corner of his eye, not sure if he had pushed her a little too far, but Katy relaxed against him. She seemed to need the contact of an adult, and Brodie's solid frame reassured her. She fiddled with a patched seam on DD's tummy, picking at it absently.
"I'm not really supposed to say, y'know." Her fingers stopped picking at the seam and began flipping DD's floppy head about.
Brodie shrugged.
"Okay. You made a promise I guess, an' that's fine. But if you ever want to talk about anything, you know you can always come to Tara an' me - we don't bite. That all right with you, sort-stop?"
He felt Katy's head nod against his shoulder.
"Yuh-huh." Katy lay quietly for a bit, then sighed. "Mrs Sipowicz an' Leo an' me were in the park."
Brodie raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"What? When you met your dad?"
Katy nodded again, a little unsure whether she should continue, but now she had started it felt right to tell Frank Brodie about her daddy. Brodie had lost his daddy, and understood what it was like to be raised an only child by his mother. Perhaps he would understand how she felt.
"Yep," she said, as dismissively as she could, trying to play down the feeling of betraying her mother and her insistence that Sonny Esposito was a bad man. "Leo was my best friend. When Mom was working some days Mrs Sipowicz used to let me stay with her and Leo, and we'd go to the park after school. My dad came to see me."
"When you were at the park?" Tara asked, dismayed. Why the hell didn't the authorities know about this?
Katy giggled as Moron flopped down beside her, long tongue flopping out of his mouth as he panted. She fiddled about with one of the dog's huge ears, Moron grinning with pleasure.
"Hum, yeah. He came and sat down beside Mrs Sipowicz and told her he wanted to talk to me. She said it was okay, so he said we could go buy some ice-cream."
Brodie was tense now.
"Your dad … was he alone? I mean, was there anyone with him when he sat down beside Mrs Sipowicz?"
Katy shrugged then chuckled as Moron gave her a couple of slurpy licks.
"There were a couple of other men with him, big men like you. But they didn't look very nice. They had dark glasses on and they didn't say anything. They stayed with Mrs Sipowicz and Leon until we got back. That's when my dad gave me DD. He said DD was his best friend when he was a little boy and he wanted to give him to me." She looked up into Brodie's eyes. "We had chocolate ice cream an' it was real good."
Brodie's mind was in a whirl. Esposito must've frightened the crap out of this Mrs Sipowicz.
"Katy gal, where were you when you met your dad?"
Katy snorted.
"In the park, silly!" Sometimes grown-ups were really dumb.
"No, I mean which city?"
"Ohhhhh …" Katy rolled her eyes. Why didn't he say that in the first place? "Chicago. After I got home Mrs Sipowicz said she couldn't take care a' me anymore an' Mom asked her why." Katy leaned into Brodie's shoulder conspiratorially. "I think she was scared. Mom never said, but I think Mrs Sipowicz told her my dad had been to see me. Mom got real mad, and then we left. That's when we went to San Francisco. Why did Mom say Daddy was a bad man? I thought he was real nice, but Mom told me he wasn't nice. She said …" Katy swallowed nervously. It felt strange talking about her father even now. "She said he did some awful things. Real bad things, and he would hurt me. When I told her he had been nice and even bought me an ice cream she got angry, an' told me we were leaving. She even told me I had to throw DD in the trash but I wouldn't let her." She lifted the toy from Brodie's chest and cuddled the duck to her chest. "He's mine."
Brodie nodded, thinking hard. He made a mental note to call Rick Maloney in the DEA in Washington first thing in the morning. Esposito's trail was cold by now, but it was a little more information to put in the files.
"I know, gal, I know. Um …" He didn't know how far he could go with this, but he decided to press her just a little more. "Katy, remember when you got mad at the rhino, when he hurt me? You told me your dad would've just shot him? How do you know?"
"Because the stupid rhino hurt you. My dad told me you shoot people who hurt you." She made a pistol-shape with her fingers and aimed them at DD. "Boom. Just like that. He said it was easy. That was one dumb rhino, Frank. He shouldn't've hurt you, should he?"
Tara leaned over and brushed a stray lock of sun-bleached hair from Katy's eyes.
"The rhino was just upset, sweetie, he was just trying to get away from something that frightened him. Frank knows he didn't mean to hurt him, don't you Frank?"
Brodie arched an eyebrow at her. At the time he would quite happily have blasted Asad to Kingdom Come, preferably with a bazooka, but he let a rueful smile twitch his moustache.
"Yeah, well, I suppose. He's a dumb critter, that's for sure, but you can't go around shootin' folks Katy."
"I suppose …" Katy said, genuinely mystified. "But soldiers do it all the time."
Brodie knew he was getting himself into situation from which he could not easily extricate himself.
"Well …that's different, kinda. When a soldier has to shoot someone it's because he's in a situation where he has to defend himself, or … or because he's helping people who can't help themselves. Perhaps their country's ruled by bad people, or they've been invaded by someone who wants to hurt them ..."
Katy was now confused, and it showed on her face.
"Maybe … I suppose … "
Aw hell, Brodie thought. She doesn't understand. You got to do better'n that fella …
"Katy, I was a soldier once … long ago, when I was younger. I fought in a war."
The little girl's eyes widened.
"Wow, cool!"
Brodie shook his head vehemently.
"No, Katy, there's nothing 'cool' about war, believe me."
She was rapt now, and scrambled upright to sit cross-legged beside him.
"Did you shoot people?"
Brodie looked at Tara, silently beseeching her to give him a hand here, but she just raised her hands helplessly. He was on his own on this one. He cleared his throat before carrying on.
"Yeah … yeah, I shot people. I didn't want to, but if I hadn't they would've shot me and I wouldn't be here right now."
"See!" Katy was triumphant. "That's what my dad said. Sometimes it's okay to shoot people!"
Brodie sighed. She didn't understand. Hoisting himself upright he eased back on the pile of cushions and gazed into the distance, the sun sparkling on the deep sapphire sea.
"Katy … damn, how do I explain this to you …" He struggled for the words, rubbing his forehead with long fingers. "I went to war, yes. I killed people too. But I didn't want to. I did it because it was necessary and we did our best to save the people we were trying to protect. Vietnam was a bad war, we shouldn't have been there, but we were, and I just got on with the job. I didn't enjoy it, it was goddamn awful. The only friend I ever had died right in front of me and I could do nothing about it. I got half my guts blown out and it took me near a year before I was back on my feet, but it happened because I was doing a job. I didn't do it because I liked it Katy - I did it because I thought I was protecting those people who couldn't defend themselves." He took a shaky breath. "And … and I didn't know how to do anything else. Your dad … well, he doesn't think that way. He shoots people because he likes to. That's a whole world of difference." Brodie knew he was hurting her with his words, but she had to understand. "Katy girl, he enjoys it. He kills for nothin' but the pleasure of it. You know I'm not kiddin' with you don't you? You know I'm telling you the truth."
Katy sat very still, eyes wide with understanding. She nodded numbly. Her voice when it came was so soft he could hardly hear it.
"Y … yeah …" She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, near to tears. "Mom was right, huh? When she said my dad could hurt me?"
Brodie gave her a gentle, lop-sided grin.
"No baby, she wasn't. Now I'm not sayin' she was lyin', don't get me wrong," he added, seeing the tears spring into the girl's eyes, "it's just she never knew you were comin' to live with Tara an' me, that's all. D'you know why she was wrong?"
"N … no …" Katy sniffed.
Brodie reached up and removed the chain from around his neck that carried his old, single dog-tag, the one he had worn for thirty years, trying to hang on to the few good memories he had in his life, of his friendship with Jimmy Vasquez, and eased it over Katy's head.
"Now you look after that for me will ya?" He saw Katy lift the battered piece of metal and gaze at it, uncomprehending. "That means I was a soldier … that I was doin' my best to protect people who couldn't protect themselves, women and little kids. I'm givin' it to you so you'll know that I'll do my best to keep you safe and I won't ever, ever let no-one hurt you or your aunt Tara. Not on my watch. Do you understand me? No-one."
Katy nodded, fingering the dog-tag and hugging DD to her chest.
Brodie stretched, easing the tension from his frame. He was on the point of heaving his tired body to its feet when he suddenly found his arms full of little girl, Katy hanging on tightly, head buried in his chest. She clung to him as though she was drowning, as if he was the only thing that could save her. Before he could stop himself he was hugging her back, murmuring into her hair, crooning to her, soothing her as a father soothes his daughter. He felt Tara curl into his side and put arms around them both, holding tight, and he heard her soft voice whisper into his shoulder.
"Thank you …"
And so they lay like that for a long time, silently, drinking in the love and comfort of belonging, while the golden light turned the ocean to a limitless crystal blue.
*******************
Artie Lindstrom had had a very satisfying day in all.
He sat in the shade of a tree, drinking beer at the same café where he had run into Brodie the previous day, and checked his notes.
He had met with a worker this very morning, a man who had just returned from doing contract labouring on an offshore island … San Miguel Island. Lindstrom knew of the island. The name had come up several times when he had been asking about Frank Brodie. Only this time the man was back on the island organising security for some sort of holiday centre out there … somethin' to do with wild animals, or zoo, or somethin' goddamn weird like that. Lindstrom snorted. The whole thing sounded fuckin' crazy.
Anyway, this labourer had been fired for trying to break into the medical stores, looking for morphine, and Brodie had fired the man on the spot. He had been more than pleased to spill the beans about the man, especially for the generous wad of banknotes Lindstrom had pressed into his eager hand.
Lindstrom took another sip of his beer and grinned.
When he went to Esposito with all of this information he knew he would be sitting pretty. Esposito had made him the offer of fifty grand for information on where Katy Matthews was and who was caring for her. It would be easier to get hold of her here in Mexico, especially as it was a quiet backwater with not much in the way of a police presence. It was too difficult North of the border … they were looking hard for Sonny Esposito in the United States, and it would have made the snatch very awkward and expensive. But here … here it could be carried out with relative ease. Esposito had found his daughter and wanted her back for some reason, but Lindstrom didn't know why - the man had never really cared much before, and had only seen her once years ago, and that had been just out of curiosity.
He flipped his notebook shut. He had names, places, transport details … he had everything. Even a rough plan of the place. He grinned again, widely, showing crooked small teeth. He drained his beer glass and dropped a couple of bills on the table. Getting to his feet he headed off down the street and hailed a taxi.
Yes, he thought as he got into the vehicle and shut the door. Jesus 'Sonny' Esposito was going to be one very happy sonofabitch when he got this information, and he, Artie Lindstrom, was going to be a rich man at last.