Up To No Good: Book 4 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery (8 page)

“Target shooting and hunting,” Tammy said briefly. “Grew up with guns, won a few tournaments.”

Georgie stared at her in amazement. Tammy had won
tournaments
? She just couldn’t picture Tammy with a gun, not even dressed as she was today.

“I haven’t done as much as Tammy,” Scott said. “But I can handle a rifle, and I know a little about handguns.”

“If you go in from the fringes of the property, and stay well back in the trees from the back fence, you should be right. Just scout it out, see if there’s any sign of activity while we talk to Vincent. All right.” Jack glanced at his watch. “If Jerry is there, he’ll have been in their hands a little less than 24 hours, so the faster we move the better. Here’s the plan.”

~~~

Less than twenty miles away, Jerry heard the murmur of voices outside before the bolt on the door of his prison clanged. The door swung open, admitting a gust of cold damp air. He could see rain misting down behind the two figures in the doorway.

Vincent walked over and frowned down at him. He was dressed in camo gear, the same as he had been the day before, but had obviously showered and shaved.

Jerry wouldn’t mind a shower himself. A nice long one, with steaming hot water to ease the aches of a night spent on the cold floor of the shipping container.

“You’ve had a chance to rethink,” Vincent said. “Got anything for us yet?”

Jerry had indeed rethought. The picture that kept coming into his mind was a little too bleak for his liking: one very dead Jerry B. Goode versus a handful of names and locations. He had concluded that giving up names in return for his life sounded like a pretty good deal…but not too soon. No, that wasn’t the way to negotiate.

“One or two,” he said. “You’ll have to do some chasing up. My memory’s good, but not that good. Most of the details are back at base.”

“One or two?” Vincent put his head on one side, regarding him thoughtfully. “You’ve been designing and selling bug-out vehicles for nearly two years, and that’s the best you can do?” He nudged Jerry’s foot with the toe of one solid-looking steel capped boot. “Is it
one
name, Mr. Goode, or is it
two?
”

“Well, two.”

“And they are?”

Jerry gave him two names of very minor players; people who wouldn’t take out a contract on him for violating confidentiality.

“Check them,” Vincent said to the man behind him.

It took him about two seconds. “Already have them. Useless. Not what we’re after.”

Jerry thought fast. “I told you, I can’t remember details like that. I have them in a safe place.”

“Where?”

“At—” Jerry was about to say ‘At home’, but an image of these men breaking into his home and finding Tammy flashed into his mind, and he changed it on the run to “At at storage facility.”

Vincent said nothing for a moment, then shook his head. “I know that’s a lie. You do realize you’re making life unnecessarily hard for yourself? You give me the information I want and nobody ever need know it came from you. You can go home and forget all this.”

Never scam a scammer,
thought Jerry. He knew perfectly well what would happen if he were to agree. Best case scenario: Vincent would let him go and then be back asking for names and details for every new client from then on. Worst case: Jerry B. Goode would disappear from the face of the Earth. He ran through options in his mind. Maybe he could turn the best case scenario to his advantage…

“We researched you carefully, Mr. Goode. I am quite sure you know the exact location of at least some of those safe houses, Doomsday bunkers, whatever your clients choose to call them, without needing GPS coordinates.”

Jerry said nothing. It was clear the guy had something in mind.

He did. “Gary, please restrain Mr. Goode.”

The minder behind him came forward.

“Not cable ties again.” Jerry tried to keep his voice level. “C’mon, guys. I can’t escape from in here. Do you really need to do that?”

Vincent ignored him, and after judging the size and strength of his companion, Jerry didn’t attempt to resist. One crack on the head was enough. With a sigh, he held out his hands.

“Behind your back, please.”

Every time that pleasant voice issued another command, shivers crawled up Jerry’s back. Somehow, the guys that didn’t need to shout and bluster were scarier than a muscle-bound bodyguard.

Jerry stood up and turned around, his hands behind his back. When he was incapacitated again, Gary the gorilla finished off the job with duct tape across his mouth.

“I apologize for the discomfort,” Vincent said. “We are expecting visitors. Friends of yours, I believe, enquiring after you. We can’t have you attracting their attention.”

Jerry’s pulse leapt, and warring emotions raced through him.

Who? His father? Danny? Who would come after him?

He grunted and widened his eyes, hoping that Vincent would know what he was asking.

“Your sister and a friend of hers.” Vincent smiled. “They contacted a local survivalist, and he’s bringing them here to see if I can help find you. Unfortunately, I don’t believe I’ll be able to help, but I’ll naturally offer to do everything I can.”

He and the gorilla left, and Jerry slumped against the wall, scared out of his mind.

Georgie. Of all people,
Georgie
was here.

He hoped like hell the friend wasn’t Tammy.

For Doomsday’s sake, why hadn’t they brought some real muscle to look for him?

It had been years since Tammy had crossed rough terrain with a rifle, but it might as well have been yesterday. The weight of the gun felt comfortable and familiar, and she had instinctively returned to the same state of alertness as she used to be when she was tracking and hunting. Some sounds she knew instinctively were harmless; others had her pausing for a moment, listening.

No, nothing but everyday forest-type sounds.

Scott was a good companion. His eyes, too, were everywhere, and he didn’t speak unless it was necessary. He might not have been a hunter, but he had tracked his share of feral animals, it seemed.

Just not the human kind.

Danny’s property was shaped like a slice of pie, with the main house at the pointy end near the road. The holding was relatively small, at around 100 acres, but a small creek with slippery rocks and spongy edges made traversing the area more difficult.

“Fresh water,” Tammy murmured.

“I noticed. Looks like Mum got that right, at least.”

It didn’t take them long to reach the small fence that separated the main compound from the rest of the property.

“Not electrified,” Scott said softly. As Jack had recommended, they stayed safely in the shelter of the trees and used binoculars to check the place out from a distance of a few hundred yards. “But it would be too easy to breach, so I’m betting on cameras or sensors.” He eyed the back of the house, about half a mile distant, just visible through a tangle of trees and scrub. “Let’s follow it around, see what’s there.”

Cautiously, they moved from tree to tree, noting the condition of the fence and the various outbuildings built behind the house. There were a dozen of them, arranged in a rough arc about halfway between the house and the fence.

“Pity we can’t see the front of them,” Scott muttered, looking at the back of a large barn and the back wall of a carport that currently sheltered three vehicles: a troop carrier and a couple of 4WDs. “Those shipping containers are probably full of supplies and weapons. He sounds like the type to have an arsenal.”

Tammy eyed the containers. “Jerry could be in any of them.”

“Or the main house. Or,” Scott pointed to a large metal trapdoor in front of the barn, “down there. Some kind of storm cellar or bunker.”

Tammy stared at the trapdoor. If Jerry was down there, how were they going to get him out? They’d be exposed the moment they walked over to it. “We may have to come back at night.”

“Won’t help. I can see dogs over there in the kennels—see, on the right.” He handed her the binoculars. “They’ll be guarding the yard at night.”

They kept moving, using binoculars to check the outbuildings and what they could see of the house, until they reached the side fence. The end of the arc put them close to the house and the road, and peering back, they could just see the front of the containers. They all had heavy-duty bolts and padlocks.

Tammy leaned against a tree and thought. She might be able to shoot, but hunting was very different from trying to break into a fenced compound with dogs and sensors and cameras to rescue someone who was being held God knew where. “What are we going to do?”

“What you’re going to do,” said a voice behind them, “is drop those rifles and turn around real slow.”

~~~

Inside the house, Georgie and Layla were sitting on the edge of a lounge, sipping tea provided by their hostess while Jack explained their situation to Vincent.

The woman Vincent had introduced as his wife, Alice, sat quietly to one side, her eyes moving from one of them to the other. A small, nondescript woman with chin-length auburn hair, she gave the impression of being the weaker half of the couple, but Georgie knew instinctively it was a front. It probably suited Vincent’s purposes to have a wife that looked non-threatening.

Vincent kept attentive eyes on Jack while he talked, occasionally interjecting. When had the GPS coordinates cut out? What had brought them to Marion? What did they intend to do next? On the last question, his eyes flicked to Georgie, obviously directing it at her.

“We’re trying to decide what to do. We found Jack on a forum, but he said you were probably the one around here with the most expertise.” A bit of flattery never hurt, she thought.

Vincent gave her a polite smile. “Forgive me, but I still don’t really understand why you’re in Marion County. You said there was a possible sighting of your brother. Who and where?”

Georgie exchanged a look with Layla. If she told him the truth, he might think she was a complete flake. But he was right: what other reason did they have for being here? Her bad-guy radar flagged him as being about as trustworthy as a piranha.

It wouldn’t surprise her in the least to discover that Jerry was around here somewhere, stashed away out of sight. The thought panicked her. She’d honestly thought that if Jerry was close by, she’d sense it. She’d
know.

She wasn’t picking up anything. If he was here, he wasn’t sending out any vibes.

Georgie hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.

“Ma’am?” Vincent prompted, still polite.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “The sighting was mine, in a manner of speaking. I’m a psychic,” she said, which she thought might sound just a tad more authentic than a gypsy fortune-teller. It didn’t, judging by the swiftly camouflaged reaction on Vincent’s face.

“You’re a
psychic?”

“Yes.” She omitted any mention of Scott’s mother’s contribution. An astrologer from Australia pitching in would sound too looney-tunes for words.

“Are you saying that you had some sort of vision of your brother in Marion County?”

“Not specifically,” she said. “I got the sense that he might be somewhere around the middle of Kentucky, and Marion happens to be the geographic center. We Googled preppers in the area, and found Jack, and he brought us to you.” She shrugged. “I already know how it must sound. But here we are, and considering that his last coordinates—well, the vehicle’s coordinates anyway—were in northern Kentucky, I’m not too far out.”

“You hope,” he said.

“That’s right. I hope.” She schooled her face into an expression of neutrality. “You don’t have to help. Jack probably knows more people he can ask.”

“That I do,” Jack agreed. “But Vincent’s the most experienced.”

“If you think we’re way off base, that’s fine,” she said, knowing her voice telegraphed that it was anything but fine. “We’ll keep moving.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” His phone gave two short beeps, and he extracted it from his pocket. “Excuse me.”

He glanced at the screen, stared at it impassively for a moment, and then tapped out a short message, before putting the phone away again. “Sorry. People are always contacting me for advice.” He looked at his wife. “Can you make more coffee, Alice? Gary will be here in a moment.”

Without saying anything, his wife got to her feet and drifted off to the kitchen. The perfect submissive wife.
Not.

Georgie turned her attention back to Vincent. “What would
you
suggest we do next?” She was on edge, every nerve ending humming. She didn’t trust this guy any more than his wife. The sooner they were out of there the better, but they had to give Scott and Tammy as much time as possible to check things out.

Vincent stared at her, and meeting his dark, shrewd eyes, Georgie felt an icy tremor go up her spine.

This was the one
. Where her brother was, she didn’t know, but
this
was the man responsible for his disappearance.

She waited until Vincent looked away before she tried to catch Jack’s eye. His face showed absolutely no emotion, but he jumped in immediately.

“I think we need to divide our efforts. I’ll get in touch with a few people that I trust on the forum, to see if they've heard or seen anything. Vincent, you’ll know people that I don't. Can you do the same?”

He nodded. “Will you all be going back to your place?”

What, so we can all be sitting ducks? thought Georgie. No chance.

“I can’t just go back and sit around,” she said quickly. “Jack, can you line up someone who will talk with us? You never know what I might pick up face to face.”

Vincent looked skeptical. “How will that help you find your brother any better than a phone conversation?”

“I can’t look into people’s eyes on the phone.” She stared at him challengingly.

Vincent smiled smoothly and pointed two fingers at his own eyes. “So what do you see here?”

“I see a man who doesn’t trust anyone,” she said quietly. “You think it protects you, but it could be your downfall.”

For a moment something feral leapt at the back of his gaze, making her heart pound.
Way to go, Georgie. Poke a stick at the snake, why don’t you.