Page 56 of The Dead Come to Stay
MacAdams compressed his upper lip to a fine seam. “I—could,” he said. “You aren’t to share it.”
“Except with Gwilym.”
“A natural exception,” MacAdams said, sending the image through. He looked up as her own phone registered the message, and seemed about to say something else—but his phonebegan triple buzzing on the table. He glanced at the number, then snapped it up in a hurry. “Now?... On site?... No—no tell them to circle back. I don’t want to spook whoever it is.” MacAdams motioned to Giuseppe for the bill. “I’ll be there.” Hanging up, he turned back to Jo. “I have to go.”
“We.We have to go. What’s going on?”
“I just need to check on a property,” he said, half out of his chair already. “Someone’s there.”
“Theproperty?”
“Yes, stay here—or, I’ll call you a cab.” He handed over his credit card and signed.
“I’m coming with,” Jo said, getting to her feet and heading for the door. MacAdams was still admonishing her from the table... where he was now also checking pockets for his keys.
“In fact,” she said, jingling the prize in one hand, “I’ll even drive.”
Chapter 18
He didn’t let her drive.
The Hammersmith property wasn’t far; they arrived there just after 10:00 p.m. It made up part of a more commercial section of town over the river, and consisted of a mostly finished exterior that looked, to Jo, like an excessively tall supermarket. Three floors were more or less complete; a fourth one was in process. Heavy equipment haunted the grounds; in the dark they reminded her of articulated museum dinosaurs. MacAdams switched off the beams and coasted quietly under streetlights. The building site butted up against the road and had been cordoned off with fencing. A sign on the side said Hammersmith, and someone had tagged it with spray paint: “u wankers.”
“Where’s the entrance?” Jo asked—because they weren’t driving machinery over the curbs. MacAdams looked at the map on his phone.
“There’s a road that runs along the rear of the property; it’s also the delivery road for a warehouse.” He pulled off to the side and parked the car. “I’m going to take a look through thefence. Supposedly there has been some movement over here. Could be nothing.”
“Flashlights,” Jo said.
“I have a torch in the glove compartment—”
“No, I mean thereareflashlights,” Jo said, leaning across him and pointing. On the third floor of the building, a rapid flicker bounced across the windows. Almost as if they imagined it... but then there was another. It helped that her distance vision was quite good, but whoever it was wasn’t being terribly careful.
“Shite.” MacAdams rolled down his window for a better view, then took out his phone. He pulled up a number, but didn’t call, his index finger hovering over the screen.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking of sneaking up on them by yourself.”
“I’m not.” MacAdams wet his lips. “Iam, but only for a look. I don’t want uniform—or a squad car—spooking them.”
“Is that a good idea?” Jo asked. Because it didn’t sound like one. MacAdams handed her his phone, then reached over her knees to the glove box.
“Copy the number. It will call the squad car directly; they are in the neighborhood. Be here in minutes.” He pulled out the torch—actually a penlight—and checked battery power. “If anything goes wrong, or I take too long, you have my permission to call.”
She didn’t need to ask this time.Thiswas a terrible idea.
“How am I supposed to know? And how long is too long?” she asked, but MacAdams was already half out of the car.
“Give me a half hour.” He took off his suit jacket and left the coat in the back—then shut the door (quietly). She wasn’t entirely sure why until he got to the chain link fence and proceeded toclimbit. Granted, it wasn’t very tall. But MacAdams was a lot nimbler than he looked.
Jo was pretty nimble, too. And lighter than him, if also a lot shorter. She knocked her boot heels together and flexed her fingers. How hard could it be? She waited until he was well over, then another few minutes to give him a start.
***
MacAdams crossed in the shadow of the yard. The building’s entrance faced west, and he could see a vehicle parked at the north end. Too dark to see make and model, but just the sort of grand SUV he hated, the kind that took up two spaces and too much room on the road. It’s presence, however, made the situation suddenly more ominous. The kind of people who drove hundred-thousand-dollar automobiles shouldn’t be breaking into a building site with flashlights. It wasn’t teens or vagrants, at the least. He crept more carefully to the front doors.
