Blindside - By Gj Moffat Page 0,24

number of bullet holes that Cahill had already fired a full clip at the same target.

Cahill’s gun clicked on an empty chamber and he stood straight, ejecting the magazine from the handle of the weapon.

‘You mad at someone?’ Logan shouted, taking his ear defenders off.

Smoke hung in the air around Cahill, the smell of cordite sharp in Logan’s nostrils.

Cahill turned quickly, taking his own defenders off and putting them on the counter in front of him beside the gun.

‘I’m plenty mad,’ Cahill replied.

‘So what’s new?’ Logan smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He walked to the booth and pressed a button to bring the target closer.

‘Hasn’t affected your accuracy,’ Logan said, looking at the target with its close grouping of bullet holes.

‘The old man hasn’t lost it yet.’

Cahill was the most accurate shooter in the team. He never lost a challenge. Logan was getting better all the time, and was now giving some of the others a close run in their challenges. Cahill encouraged competition – thought that it was a good way to maintain their edge outside of a real engagement. His plan was always to get into as few fights as possible. He knew from experience that no matter how good you were, bad luck had a way of catching up with you eventually.

‘You’re dead set on this mission of yours?’ Logan asked. ‘I mean, going over to Denver.’

‘I booked our flights last night.’

Logan stared at him.

‘We leave at seven tomorrow morning. Sam’s getting the spare room ready for Ellie to come over tonight. It’s all set.’

Logan looked at his watch – saw that it was not far off noon. Ellie would be at school for a few more hours yet and so there was nothing Logan could do about speaking to her just yet.

‘I’m that predictable?’ he asked, shaking his head.

‘Not predictable. Reliable.’

‘How long will we be away?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But you’ve booked a hotel, right? I mean, we’ll have to stay somewhere.’

‘Sure. I booked somewhere in Downtown. It’s corporate and anonymous.’

Cahill frustrated Logan sometimes.

‘How long did you book the hotel for?’

‘Three nights.’

‘You think that’ll be enough?’

‘If it’s not, we’ll extend the stay there or somewhere else.’

Cahill spread his arms out.

‘If you don’t want to go …’ he said.

‘I’m going. Okay. I just …’

Cahill waited. Logan sat down again.

‘I mean, I feel a little lost when I go into the field with any of you guys. It’s not me. I don’t know what to do. I’m a lawyer not a soldier.’

‘Bullshit. You’ve done more than okay when you’ve had to. I mean, for someone chucked into the fire with no warning and little or no training.’

‘But—’

‘And it’s not like I’m asking you to shoot anyone this time, you know. It’ll be a different kind of thing.’

‘Just talking?’

‘Interacting with the law enforcement agencies.’

Logan puffed out his cheeks and shook his head.

‘What?’ Cahill asked.

‘Alex, you can’t interact with anyone without starting a fight.’

‘Not true.’

‘Almost true.’

Cahill picked up his gun and ear defenders and went to the wall beside the entrance. He put the magazine back in the gun and placed it on a mount. He hung the ear defenders up beside the others on the wall.

‘Have you told Tim’s wife yet?’ Logan asked as he joined Cahill to put his ear defenders on the wall.

‘No.’

‘You should. She’d want to know.’

‘You’re right. Why don’t you go home to get packed. Pick up Ellie and tell her what’s going on. I’ll call Melanie.’

‘The dream team,’ Logan said, following Cahill out of the room.

He glanced back at the shredded target. Hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

9

After Logan left the warehouse, Cahill went to call Melanie Stark from another room in the building – a functional meeting space with a round table and six chairs.

It was still early in Kansas, but Cahill figured that she wouldn’t be sleeping much.

Turned out he was right.

‘How are you holding up?’ he asked, when she answered the call.

‘Ask me again in six months.’

He thought that she sounded a little brighter than she had last night. Which wasn’t saying much.

‘I wanted to let you know that I’m not going to let this go. That I want to help you.’

‘Alex, I appreciate the sentiment, you know. But Tim’s dead. What’s left after that? Whatever we do, he won’t be walking back through the front door, will he?’

‘No. You’re right about that. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t honour his memory.’

‘I don’t mean to be rude, Alex. But that stuff sounds so hollow right now.’

‘I know. Doesn’t mean it’s not