Page 36 of Blood in the Water
Newton was only twenty minutes outside Boston, but it was an important twenty minutes, the surrounding area a sea of highway interchanges used mostly by commuters who lived in the suburbs. The Crowne Plaza was one of many hotels that surrounded the city, an assemblage of chains with names that blended into each other, each one as mediocre as the last.
“Which floor?” Will asked when they stepped into the elevator.
“Sixth.” Even that hadn’t surprised Nolan: the hotel had twelve floors, placing the sixth floor smack in the middle, making for easy exits from the roof or the ground if they had to use the stairwells.
Will pressed the button and they waited as the elevator began to rise. He looked up at the elevator’s ceiling. “I bet this thing has cameras.”
“Without a doubt,” Nolan said.
Will sighed. “I fecking hate this world.”
“Save the existential crisis for after we get Seamus out of our town,” Nolan said as the elevator dinged their arrival on the sixth floor. “We have bigger problems.”
The doors opened and they stepped out of the elevator.
“See, that’s the problem. There’s always something more important to worry about. Meantime, our civil liberties are being eroded by the day, fecking government spying on us, selling us out to the highest bidder.”
“Maybe after we get rid of Seamus we can get rid of the government evildoers,” Nolan said.
“You say that like you’re joking.”
They followed the brass plaques on the wall to room 6224. The door opened a few seconds after they knocked, a beast of a man standing in its frame, studying them with narrowed eyes.
“The prodigal son returns,” he said in a clipped British accent. He towered over Nolan, who was well over six feet, and Nolan wouldn’t have been surprised if his shoulders didn’t fit through the doorway. His nearly shaved head only added to the menace created by the scar that ran down the left side of his face.
Three months ago, Nolan wouldn’t have believed he’d be happy to see Farrell Black. Now he smiled and held out his hand. “Fuck you.”
“Back at you,” Farrell said. He looked at Will. “You sure you want to do this?”
“What the feck are you talking about?” Will asked.
“Just making sure,” Farrell said. “No going back after I let you in here. You know what I mean?”
Will sighed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m not bloody thick.”
Farrell opened the door wider and they stepped into the room, waited for him to lock the door, and followed him into what turned out to be two adjoining rooms. Christophe stood in the first room with a man Nolan had never met. They both turned to Nolan and Will as they entered the room.
The other room, visible through the connecting doors, was crowded, a group of men Nolan didn’t recognize huddled around two beds weighed down with weapons, ammo spread out around the guns. He spotted a stack of Kevlar vests and what looked like infrared goggles piled on the dresser.
“Glad you made it,” Christophe said. He turned to the man standing next to him. “This is Luca Cassano. He’s a partner in the organization and runs the Miami territory. He has some experience dethroning thugs. I thought he might be helpful in this situation.”
Nolan shook the other man’s hand, struck by the blue of his eyes under a thick head of black hair. He was slightly smaller than Christophe, but there was something relaxed and watchful about him, like a friendly cat who could shred you to pieces in seconds.
“Nice to meet you.” Nolan turned to Will. “This is Will MacFarland.”
“Now that we’ve all curtsied, can we get down to business?” Farrell asked.
Christophe walked to the mini-fridge, removed two beers, and handed them to Nolan and Will. The evidence of Christophe’s preferred beverage was in the glass of amber liquid on the coffee table near the sofa. Nolan wondered if he’d brought the beer because he remembered that Nolan and Will preferred it.
Christophe shut the door between the two rooms andthey took seats on the sofa and chairs around the coffee table. A map of Boston was laid out on the table, various locations circled with red marker.
“Fill us in,” Christophe said.
Nolan told them everything he hadn’t been able to say via email — the details of Sean’s visit to the Monaghan’s house, the unidentified pills he’d mixed in with Owen’s medication, the subsequent flight from South Boston to the island.
“What do you think put them onto Bridget?” Farrell asked when he was done.
“A combination of things,” Nolan said. “Baren’s been giving orders — hard to say if he’s been deputized by Seamus or if he’s taking it on himself — and taking a greater interest in the organization. He ordered Will and me to take Sean and tail Bridget a few days ago, so either he was suspicious then or he got suspicious after the explosion.” He hesitated. He didn’t want to sell Bridget out, but the Syndicate needed to know everything. “Bridget was upset after the explosion. I think it shook her — the explosion and being alone with the men in the hotel suite afterwards. She wasn’t as careful as she usually is when we meet.”