“I’m not going to take orders from someone who’s afraid of spiders,” says Rosie.
“And, strictly speaking, it’s no guns here,” says Barb.
A figure emerges from the trees. A figure wearing a Van Halen T-shirt and carrying a small rucksack. Amy rushes toward him and hugs him, careful to point the gun away from his neck as she does.
“You made it!”
“Car was waiting at the airport,” says Steve.
Rosie D’Antonio has somehow crept up on him without making a single sound. She extends a hand.
“Well, you must be Steve,” she says.
He takes her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Rosie.”
“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” says Rosie, holding on to Steve’s hand for longer than Amy is comfortable with. “That’s quite a grip you have.”
“Put him down, Rosie,” says Amy.
Rosie lets go of Steve’s hand but maintains eye contact.
“I don’t suppose you ride a motorbike, Steve?”
“A motorbike?” says Steve. “No.”
“Oh, you should,” says Rosie. “It would suit you.”
“She’s scared of life, apparently,” Amy says to Steve. “Wouldn’t know it, would you? Do you need rest or are you ready to work? I’ve got a million files for you.”
“I’m ready,” says Steve. “And I come bearing gifts.”
He takes a sheet of paper from his rucksack and shows it to Amy and Rosie.
“CCTV from the airport,” says Steve. “Shows Andrew Fairbanks being picked up.”
In the image Andrew Fairbanks is greeted, then led away, by a slim woman with long red hair tied in a ponytail. Fairbanks carries one of his suitcases, and the woman, despite being half his size, carries the other. A leather holdall.
“How did you get this?” Rosie asks.
“Airships and Van Halen,” says Steve.
“I’ve ridden both in my time,” says Rosie.
“I think that might be our cue to do some work,” says Amy.
“You get anything from Scroggie?” Steve asks. “The sheriff?”
“His corpse was hanging from the ceiling,” says Amy.
“Ah…”
Barb approaches the group.
“Steve,” says Amy. “This is Barb. She’s hiding us away from prying eyes.”
“You have,” says Barb to Steve, “if you don’t mind my saying, the eyes of a kind soul.”
“She says that to everyone,” says Rosie. “Knock it off, Barb.”
“That’s very kind of you, Barbara,” says Steve, as Barb kisses him on both cheeks.
“It’s not Barbara,” says Barb.
“I see,” says Steve. “So where does ‘Barb’ come from?”
“It’s a nickname,” says Rosie. “For thirty years she controlled the barbiturates trade across the entire East Coast.”
So that’s how Rosie and Barb know each other, thinks Amy. Mystery solved.
And, speaking of mysteries, time to get to work. Amy has been backed into corners her whole life. And she learned a long time ago that the only way out of a corner is to fight.
“Someone is trying to kill me,” says Amy. “And someone from Maximum Impact is helping them. So let’s shoot some people until we find out who.”
Steve nods. “Or gather some clues, sure.”
“And then shooting,” says Amy.
“We’ll see,” says Steve. “We’ll see.”
