Page 32 of Wild Devil

“Or, he’s storing something,” Lex says. “It has all the hallmarks of a smuggling operation.”

Jamie nods. “Yes. I figured that as well, but what? And for what purpose?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say terrorist attack.”

The reporter raises an eyebrow. “That’s quite the leap in judgment to make considering Heywood’s background.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Lex explains with a slight smile. “I used to do mercenary work for…let’s call them ‘unorthodox’ governments. You wouldn’t believe the shit some of those so-called elected leaders would plan just to keep power. Tragedies scare the shit out of people and keep them docile, more willing to sit back idly as their rights get stripped away. Fear is the best fucking motivator of all. So yeah, if Heywood was planning on blowing up half the city, I could buy it.”

Jamie sucks his teeth, skeptical. “That sounds like it violates at least several international statutes regarding human rights.”

“Probably does,” Lex admits. “But the shit still happens every fucking day.”

“What kind of attack could Heywood be planning?” I ask, unsure of what to believe. Eyeing the map, I can’t make sense of why he’d want to strike those particular locations anyway. They cut through the downtown of the city, but mainly near the docks, coincidentally avoiding a swath of Saints’ territory. Though hell, it would make sense for Silas to be on board, if it meant taking out most of his competition in one fell swoop. Still…

“I don’t see the point,” I say out loud.

“From my vantage point, his aim is something easily contained,” Lex remarks, tracing an invisible path that links all the potential locations together. The result is a grim semi-circle with city hall surrounded like an untouched bullseye.

“Like an explosion?” Jamie suggests. “Don’t fucking tell me you were on to something…”

“Like the one that destroyed their so-called church building,” I say, remembering how freaked Frey had been that day, fearing that her family had been injured. “It could have been a practice run for something bigger.”

“Well, if you mark up all those places on the map, what do you see? Is there anything in particular they surround?”

The reporter withdraws a pen and starts marking the locations with an X. Then he draws a circle around the area they all coincidentally encompass.

“Well, I’ll be fucked,” Lex says with a grin.

I don’t share his enthusiasm. Fist clenched, I punch the table hard enough to draw the gaze of a frightened waitress from across the room. “Motherfucker. He’s going to wreck half of the city.

And not just any half. Where Lyra lives with Sam. Where my old man’s gym is. Most of the Saints’ territory and even the church buildings.

“This isn’t just chaos he’s planning,” I say. “It’s fucking carnage. He’d destroy his own people if this is the plan.”

“What better way to foster sympathy,” the reporter points out, an eyebrow raised. “And all but guarantee a victory in the election. Not to mention if there is any evidence of his crimes to be found in the Salvation building or otherwise, well, it’ll go up in smoke along with everything else.”

“So how do we stop it?” I ask.

The reporter shrugs. “My forte is writing, remember? Besides, this is just a hunch. I can’t do anything with speculation and rumors. My editor would laugh me out of his office if I came to him with a doodle. Then he’d send me to the unemployment line. I need some real proof I can take to him. Where is Frances? I’m sure she might have better insight…” He trails off, his eyes on my face. “I’m guessing that’s not an option?”

“There isn’t time,” I mutter, my throat tight. “So, then we cut out the middleman. How do we stop it?”

Lex strokes his chin. “I have some contacts I can call in. Explosives experts. Most of them are out of the country, but I’ll see if anyone is close enough to come by now. If we can narrow down where they have the initial charge planned to go off and when, we can sabotage it. The only question is, how do we find that out?”

I have a pretty good fucking idea.

“Heywood couldn’t plan something like this on his own. Not the logistics and I doubt he has access to the contacts required to make something like this happen. He’s left the planning up to a pasty. A fall guy.”

“I see what you’re thinking,” Lex says. “That’s what I would do. So, who do you think?”

I don’t have to guess. “Silas. We find him, and he can tell us what we need to know.”

The sick son of a bitch has a lot to answer for.

Suddenly, Lex reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a cell phone. Within seconds, his seemingly-permanent grin falls flat. “What is it? Sure, he’s right here—” He hands the phone to me. “It’s Damien.”

Fuck. I doubt he’d be calling now if it wasn’t important. “What?” I ask the second I bring the device to my ear.

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