The Forgotten Holocaust

Chapter Forty-Seven

Ben had done a lot more thinking by the time he stepped outside into the starry night, leaving Erin softly asleep inside the room. The night was humid, making his shirt stick to his back. It was after one in the morning and most of the other motel windows were dark. He could hear canned laughter from some TV show playing quietly somewhere. A couple of cats were hissing and growling at each other in the shadows behind a row of dumpsters.

Ben was running out of cigarettes. He put one between his lips, lit it up in the flickering halo glow of his Zippo and sucked in the smoke as he watched the lights of an eighteen-wheeler truck streak by on the distant highway, like a night train headed who-knew-where. He felt a little that way himself, every time Brooke entered his thoughts. She entered them often.

He took out his phone and dialled Finn McCrory’s mobile number. It rang until the answer service cut in. Ben ended the call without leaving a message, then dialled the same number again. Same result. He tried once more, and this time he got a reply.

‘Who the hell’s this?’ McCrory’s voice was a raspy whisper. He sounded exactly like a belligerent, impatient VIP who didn’t take kindly to being woken up in the middle of the night by an unexpected phone call.

‘Careful how you talk to me,’ Ben said. ‘I might get offended and hang up. Then I might decide to call your wife’s office in the morning and speak to her instead. She’ll be interested in what I have to tell her about her husband’s activities on the side.’

An opening line like that couldn’t have failed to get McCrory’s attention. There was a heavy silence over the phone. Ben could hear him breathing, waiting for more.

‘Now I’m sure you’d prefer not to wake Mrs McCrory and have to face all those questions,’ Ben said. ‘So what you need to do is get out of bed, nice and quietly. Go downstairs and find a comfortable chair to sit in. You and I are going to have a little chat. Just us, in private. Do it now, McCrory. I’m waiting.’

He heard a grunt and a series of rustling noises as McCrory heaved himself out of bed, followed by a pause of almost a whole minute before the voice came back on the line. It must be a big house, Ben thought. Whichever part of it McCrory had hurried off to in order to talk, the sleeping Angela was well out of earshot, because her husband wasn’t whispering any more.

‘I know who you are, shitbird. I know all about you.’

‘Of course you do,’ Ben said. ‘I’m the stone in your shoe. The guy who keeps getting in the way. Did your pal O’Rourke give you a hard time over the little incident at the shopping mall today? You might have to increase his retainer.’

‘What do you want, Hope?’ McCrory demanded.

‘It’s more a question of what you want, Mr Mayor. More precisely, what you’re willing to give in return.’

‘Oh, you called me up at one in the morning to talk business, asshole?’

‘I’ve heard you’re a pretty sharp operator when it comes to making deals,’ Ben said. ‘I think this is one you’ll be eager to make.’

‘Go on,’ McCrory said warily.

‘I have in my possession some items of interest to you. A set of books. Private journals of historical importance. Need I elaborate?’

‘I know what books you mean.’

‘That’s what I thought. Now, what do I want with a pile of dusty old diaries? They’re of no use to me.’

‘I see. So you’re looking to sell them, is that right?’

‘To the highest bidder. The guide price is five million dollars.’

McCrory gave a snort. ‘You’ve got this all figured out, huh, smartass?’

‘Think about the alternative, Mr Mayor. It won’t be pretty. A lot of people will get hurt. I’m sure we’ve all had enough of violence. Except maybe your psycho buddy Moon.’

‘All right, fuckhead, let’s say we do business. But five million for a bunch of old books? A little more than their auction value, isn’t it?’

Ben took another drag on his cigarette. ‘It’s a seller’s market. You know how that goes.’

‘All the same, you tell me why I’d consider paying even half that much.’

‘Because you stand to lose so much more if they should fall into the wrong hands,’ Ben said. ‘You know what I’m talking about, and you know this is a bargain price I’m offering here. I’m betting Kristen Hall was trying to shake you down for a lot more. Am I right?’

McCrory said nothing.

‘And just to show you how generous I am, I’ll even throw in something extra to sweeten the deal. Five million, and you can have Erin Hayes too. She’s of no use to me either. Nor is the remaining copy of the little home video she made of you, Matt Ritter and Billy Bob Moon murdering one soon-to-be snitch by the name of Kirk Blaylock.’

McCrory remained very silent on the other end. Ben smiled. ‘Hello? Are you there?’

‘I’m here,’ McCrory said in a tight voice.

‘Now, I want the money in cash, and I want it tonight. We make the exchange, then you’ll never hear from me again.’

‘You’re crazy. I don’t have that kind of cash just laying around, you know. It’ll take me at least two days.’

‘Don’t give me that. Your kind of clients pay by cheque, do they? It’s cash, or else wave bye-bye to the journals.’

McCrory thought for a few moments. ‘All right, all right. You have your money. But you mess with me, you’re just another dead scumbag.’

‘You know a good deal when you see one,’ Ben said. ‘Now here are my instructions. Meet me at the lake cabin at three thirty sharp. You come alone, with the money packed in two large holdalls. I’ll be there with the goods. And the woman, too.’

‘How’m I supposed to handle her, if I’m alone? Think I’m going to drive around with some screaming bitch in the back of my nice green Mercedes?’

‘That’s not going to be a problem,’ Ben said. ‘She’ll be heavily sedated. I’ll even help you stick her in the trunk, okay? Then she’s all yours to do what you want with. Let the boys play with her a while first. Then grind her up into dog meat, for all I care. Makes no difference to me.’

‘Real piece of work, ain’t you, Hope?’

‘Takes one to know one.’

‘Maybe you should come work for me.’

‘Why would I want to do that, with your five million in my pocket?’ Ben looked at his watch. ‘Best get moving, Mr Mayor. You have just a little over two hours. See you at the cabin.’