They called him Odelin, and no one knew if that was his first or last name. No one cared, either, because he was the boss, at least as far as those here with him were concerned. They had heard him on occasion talking on the phone with someone he obviously had to answer to, but that was not their problem.
Odelin looked over at the remains of the priest he had visited earlier. His men wrangled the blood-soaked corpse into the panel van they’d parked in an alleyway here at the edge of the worst part of town. As soon as they had stowed the whole messy bundle inside, Odelin told the driver to wait and stepped inside the vehicle. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and knelt before the mangled deceased. One of his men asked if he would like help searching the body, but Odelin refused. The matter was too sensitive and critical for that level of help. “I’ll handle it. Just keep watch and alert me if anyone approaches by any means.”
The man nodded and left him alone. Odelin proceeded to search Abbe’s body, a disgusting task given the nature of his demise, but one that was wholly necessary.
Come on, preacher man, make this easy on us.
But a few minutes of thorough searching later and Odelin had nothing to show for it but a pair of bloody gloves. Frustrated, he stripped them off and tossed them unceremoniously onto the deceased before exiting the van.
He told his men to wait while he walked to the nearest dwelling, a dilapidated mobile home that happened to have electricity and running water, utilities that were not a given in this part of the world. Used as a low key safe house for his organization, Odelin detested the ramshackle place but found it to be an effective lair in which to lay low and get things done from time to time.
Once inside, he locked the door behind him. He cursed at the rats that scurried off at his sudden approach before making his way into the kitchen. For some reason this is where the phone was kept, something about it being the only accessible point where the illicit wiring job could be tapped into the mains. He opened a cabinet and took down the pushbutton landline telephone.
Odelin dialed from memory and when the other end picked up, he said without preamble, “He doesn’t have it.”
A pregnant pause ensued during which Odelin could sense his superior’s disappointment.
“What steps are you taking?”
“I have my men searching the church and the priest’s home as we speak. I will let you know the second they find anything.”
“See that you do.”
The words were direct enough, but Odelin recognized them for the threat they were and shivered as he replaced the handset in the cradle.
See that you do. He flashed on the times former associates of his had heard that same phrase and then failed to deliver. He watched a cockroach scurry up the wall and into a crack where the wall met the ceiling. He would be living like that, too, if this search didn’t pan out — running for cover of darkness for the rest of his short-lived days.
He picked up the phone again and dialed a new number. He had already told his man to report in after the search had been completed, but that was when he had thought he would hit paydirt on Abbe’s body. He had been all but certain the priest would not allow something so important to ever be out of his direct possession, especially after being confronted about it. But he had thought wrong.
It was time to find out how the other search was progressing.