Blindside - By Gj Moffat Page 0,61

his hand in greeting. She shook it.

‘I’m Elizabeth Holmes. Call me Lizzie. What can I do for you?’

She had a firm handshake and wore a white T-shirt with a Smith & Wesson logo. Cahill could see the slender, well-toned muscles of her forearm as she shook his hand. Her hair was short and she had wide-set brown eyes. He made her for late forties.

‘Tom Hardy said I should come see you if I was in town,’ Cahill said.

She held his hand a moment longer then released it, putting both her hands on her hips. It was a girlish pose, but she pulled it off.

‘I’m always happy to meet new friends,’ she said.

‘Likewise.’

‘You an ex-cop or what?’

‘Army then Secret Service.’

‘You get around. What you up to now?’

Getting to know you.

‘Close protection. Corporates, politicians. That kind of thing, you know.’

Her eyes opened wider. ‘Any celebrities?’

‘Sometimes. I mean, try to avoid them.’

‘Very sensible. Bet they pay well, though.’

‘That they do, Lizzie.’

She looked at him for a moment and walked around the counter, heading for the front door.

‘Give me a second to close up and I’ll take you downstairs.’

She turned a lock on the door and put a sign in the window telling her customers that she’d be back in a half-hour.

‘Follow me,’ she said as she went towards a door at the back of the counter area.

He went through the door behind her and down a narrow set of stairs. There was another door at the bottom with three heavy-duty locks which she opened. The door swung inwards and Cahill could tell from the way she held it that it was armoured – the wood fascia intended as a disguise.

He walked past her into a large, well-lit basement. It was a workshop with a couple of long benches and shelving racks on two walls. There was a large metal cabinet on one of the other walls.

‘What’s your story?’ Cahill asked as she picked a key from a chain attached to the belt of her jeans.

She looked back at him from over her shoulder.

‘Boston PD. Twenty years.’

‘Why this now? Why Denver?’

She shrugged. ‘Why not?’

Cahill walked over to the cabinet as she opened it, displaying a number of handguns arranged on metal pins. There were two shelves at the bottom filled with boxes of ammunition.

‘Before we go any further,’ she said, turning to him and putting a hand firmly on his chest, ‘I know that you’ve been vouched for, but what’s your intention with my stuff?’

‘Defensive only.’

She looked hard at his eyes.

‘Okay, soldier. I had to ask, you know.’

It came out like: Okay, Soul-jah. Hadda ask, y’know.

Cahill nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘What are you after?’

Wotcha ahftah.

‘Something reliable, like a Glock.’

‘I got plenty of them bad boys. Take your pick.’

Cahill looked at the guns and pointed to the one he wanted. She told him to go ahead and he lifted it from its mount and checked it out.

‘Good for you?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘It’ll do.’

He reached down and grabbed an identical weapon.

‘And this,’ Cahill said. ‘Just, you know …’

She nodded. ‘Can never be too careful. Ammo?’

She was Cahill’s kind of person. Direct. No words wasted.

He paid cash and took a box of bullets and two nylon holsters to go with the weapons. When they were done, she led him back up the stairs and into the main part of the shop.

‘You be careful out there, soldier,’ she told him as she unlocked the front door. ‘Bad people around, you know.’

3

Logan swung his legs out of bed and on to the carpet, scrunching his toes up and releasing them again. He saw that Cahill’s bed had been made up, the cover pulled military tight. A note on hotel paper was lying on the pillow. It was from Cahill: said he had gone out on an ‘errand’ and that Logan was to organise getting a car – ‘something with a big engine in case we need it.’

Need it for what?

He went for a shower and towelled dry, dressing in jeans and a plain navy T-shirt. He didn’t feel tired and was glad of getting a long period of uninterrupted sleep. He also felt hungry, so grabbed a lightweight Merrell walking jacket and went down to the restaurant to get something to eat.

He checked his phone after breakfast but he had no messages. It was too early back home to call Ellie so he stuck the phone in his pocket and left to find the rental car place that he had seen in the mall last night.

There wasn’t much foot traffic