Hatch Read online

  She nodded. “Yes, but only to Marcus. He comes here and asks for them to ensure that the entries are up to date, and then he takes off with them.”

  “So you’ve never seen him handing them over to anybody?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “But what else would he do with them?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “We’re just trying to figure out what happened to him. So anything that happened or that is unusual, I need to know about.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t want to think of anything happening to my husband,” she whispered.

  “No, of course not, and, if we find him, … believe me. We’ll send him back this way. But what would have happened to them?”

  “I don’t know,” she wailed softly. “There were always some angry people, mad about Marcus for one reason or another. I told my husband that he should get a new employer, but I got paid as well too, so he stayed with Marcus.”

  “Of course,” Hatch agreed. “It’s one thing to get another job, but it’s another thing entirely for both of you to lose your income at the same time.”

  “I can’t afford that,” she said immediately. “It’s not much money, but all the money helps.”

  Hatch nodded absentmindedly, as he thought about that.

  “Who is this man you went to see?” Corbin persisted.

  “He’s just a local we report to.” She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Well, we’ll need to go report to him too,” he replied in a hard tone.

  She stared at him and immediately backed up. “I can’t stop you from doing that, but, if he finds out that it was me—”

  “He won’t know that,” Corbin interrupted immediately.

  Hatch added, his tone soft, “We need Marcus’s ledgers.” The woman’s eyes rounded, and she began shaking her head nonstop. “I know that you don’t want to hand them over to us. However, if we can’t find Marcus or Millie or … your husband, would you turn over Marcus’s books to me then?”

  She gasped, one hand going to her mouth, the other to her heart.

  “You wouldn’t want those ledgers to get into anybody else’s possession, would you?”

  “No,” she mumbled, looking up at Hatch. “I will give the books to you, if not to Marcus.”

  “Thank you,” Hatch said. “Now we need to find these people, and we need a photo of your husband so we can find him.”

  She nodded eagerly, pulling up her phone and after picking a photo, sending it to them. “Yes, yes, please. Find them. … Send them home.”

  “We will.” With that, Corbin and Hatch turned and walked away. Once outside, Hatch faced his partner. “Yep, we’re heading straight back to the store.”

  “Do you even think he’ll still be there?”

  “No, I don’t,” he muttered. “He’s probably gone to pass the information to somebody else.”

  “Great. One of us should have stayed behind. Maybe if we hustle, we can catch him.”

  When they got there, the man was just locking up and heading down the street. They quickly flanked him.

  “We understand you’re the person everybody reports information to,” Corbin began.

  Startled, the man looked confused and pretended to not understand the language.

  “That doesn’t work for us,” Corbin said. “We know perfectly well that you speak English.”

  At that, the man glared at him. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “We’re looking for Marcus and Millie,” Corbin murmured. “I’m sure that your local eyes and ears have already told you that we’re out here.”

  Hatch added, “So there is no point in lying about it.”

  The man shrugged, as he kept striding down the street, seemingly unconcerned at their presence. “I have no reason to lie about anything.”

  “So why do you pay people to let you know what’s going on?”

  “Because anybody in business needs to know who or what is going on in town,” he explained. “Just like any city, anywhere in the world, this one has problems too. We try to contain the problems by keeping track of troublemakers.”

  At that, Hatch snorted. “And are we troublemakers?”

  “Probably.” The stranger eyed Hatch. “Whether you’ve caused any trouble yet or not, I don’t know,” he replied, “but you’re here to find somebody who’s disappeared. So chances are, … you’ll find more trouble than you’re expecting.”

  “Maybe,” Hatch murmured. “Maybe not.”

  The man stared at him and shrugged. “Your funeral.”

  “And I can see how you might feel that way,” Corbin stated quietly, “but we’re also looking for the foreman.”

  At that, his eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Maybe not,” Corbin admitted, “but somebody has to know something.”

  The stranger shrugged. “With the one dig shut down, and lots of bills not being paid, people are not very happy. You can bet things will get even unhappier if those bills don’t get paid anytime soon.”

  “Who is owed money?” Hatch asked.

  “The locals,” the contact man said. “That’s what I mean. We don’t like trouble here, and having foreigners come in, set up these digs, and then not pay before they take off, … it’s really bad for everybody.”

  “And yet you know that Millie and Marcus didn’t just take off.”

  He looked at Hatch. “I don’t know that. You can tell me that repeatedly, but I don’t know that. Until I get proof, one way or the other, I’m assuming that they just took off.”

  “I can see why you might want to think of it that way,” Hatch noted, “but what if somebody helped them take off?”

  “I would expect somebody did help them.” He stared at them as if they were fools. “Of course somebody helped them. It doesn’t take much in a town like this where you can get anything you want for a little bit of money.”

  “I mean, what if they didn’t go willingly?” Hatch asked.

  At that, the other man stopped. He was big, overweight, and had a lumbering gait, so he didn’t stop quickly. But, when he finally came to halt, he turned and looked at him. “If that’s the case, you guys better get the hell out of town, before you’re next.”

  “We don’t scare quite so easily.” Hatch glared at him. “What we need to know is who would be trying to take them out.”

  “I have no idea,” he answered, “but Marcus made a lot of enemies.”

  “Enemies here, with the locals?”

  “No, not so much from the locals, but every authority around. Marcus was always arguing and scrapping and, as soon as he got any booze in him, … it just got way worse. Plenty of places here would as soon not serve him.”

  “But they served him anyway because he’s got money.”

  “Exactly.” The man nodded. “And everybody here needs the money.”

  “Of course they do.”

  “And, even if they didn’t, they would serve him anyway because that’s the industry they’re in.”

  “Drunks aren’t good for anybody,” Hatch muttered. “Especially ugly ones.”

  “No, and I’ve heard that a couple times,” the man said, looking at him.

  “The question is, did somebody do something to fix the problem permanently?” Hatch asked him.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “It’s possible. We get murders and muggings around here all the time. And most people knew who Marcus was because he could have such an ugly mouth on him.”

  “So is it possible somebody just shut him up?”

  “Yes, of course it is. But do I know anything about it? No, I do not.” He stopped in front of a large restaurant. “Now I’m meeting my family for an early dinner. I suggest that you disappear or continue investigating or whatever it is you think you want to do,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But stay out of trouble, or you can be sure trouble will be finding you, especially if you start asking too many questions.”

&nbsp
; “Isn’t that what you do?” Hatch asked him.

  “No.” He stared Hatch down with a hard glance. “I don’t ask any questions. People come to me with information.”

  “Because they have no choice, I presume.”

  “Protection is everything in this town,” he murmured. “I like to keep my friends safe. An awful lot of people here don’t care so much about safety.”

  Hatch heard a veiled warning in that, but the threat wasn’t exactly clear.

  With that, the man turned and stepped into the restaurant. Hatch and Corbin stayed outside, as they watched the man being greeted, then immediately headed over to a table, where several other people were already seated.

  “What do you think?” Hatch walked back down the street with Corbin.

  “I think there’s something rotten in Denmark,” he replied. “The questions are, what it is, and just how far and how deep does that rot go?”

  “Right.” Hatch shook his head. “It’s never easy, is it?”

  “No, but it’s not that hard either,” Corbin replied. “What we’re up against is the same thing we’re up against every other time. Lies and deceit. Greed and brute force.”

  Hatch laughed. “So, in other words, this thing is right up our alley.”

  “Well, it will be if we ever get answers,” Corbin noted. “We haven’t been here twenty-four hours yet, and already we know that Marcus had no respect for anyone here and that the locals didn’t have any for him either. They want his money, but they don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “And yet that’s not a surprise,” Hatch stated. “It’s essentially the same story, no matter where in the world you go, particularly where an industry is dependent on foreigners for their money. Everybody hates them but fights for a chance to serve them anyway because that’s what the game is. Serve as requested and keep the money flowing, or don’t and watch it dry up.”

  Chapter 4

  When the food and water was brought next time, Millie tried to rouse her father again but got no response. She glared at her guards. “He’s unconscious.” The men shrugged and didn’t say anything but dropped off several bags of food, she hoped, and a bottle of water. She snatched up the water and took a small sip. She knew it wouldn’t be enough water to do the job for long, but she would take whatever she could get. They weren’t trying to kill her, but she had no idea what they intended for her father.

  She glared down at her father. “Come on. Wake up,” she muttered. Almost on cue, he moaned a bit. She rolled over, so she lay closer beside him on the cool dirt. “Wake up,” she ordered, a bit more assertively.

  His eyes fluttered open. “Millie?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  He whispered, “Did we get rescued?”

  “No,” she replied. “And it’s been pretty rough while you’ve been unconscious.” He opened his eyes slowly, then stared at her, and she saw the confusion in them. She winced. “How do you feel?”

  “Rough. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  She privately agreed but knew that, under normal circumstances, absolutely no way he would have admitted that to her. He sat up and groaned, his hands going to his head. “They beat me up pretty good, didn’t they?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Here’s some water.” She handed him their only bottle.

  He had a long sip, then handed it back to her. “What do they want?” he asked, staring at her.

  “Well, maybe you should tell me that.” She sat up and reached for what she hoped was food in the bags. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

  “No, my stomach is not happy.”

  “I wonder why,” she murmured. “They worked you over pretty hard.”

  He nodded. “I think that’s why I was out for so long.”

  “I’m sure it was,” she murmured, but, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t let go of the new information she’d gotten. “Any idea what they’re after?” she asked, watching him.

  He shook his head. “Something about artifacts and a dig,” he murmured. “Yet not enough detail to help me figure it out. Did you talk to them?” He shuffled his body a bit, so he could lean against the wall.

  She nodded. “I was hauled out there, after they brought you back.”

  “Did they hurt you?” He frowned at her through the dim light.

  She shook her head. “No, they didn’t. At least not physically. Not this time.”

  “That’s good.” Marcus sighed. “Hopefully they won’t at all.”

  “Well, they won’t as long as you give them what they want. It’s the only reason they’re keeping me here.”

  He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “My presence is to get you to cooperate,” she muttered.

  “Oh.” He dipped his head instead of facing his daughter.

  She started eating the food that was brought, and there was quite a bit of it, which was nice for a change. She held off eating all of it and focused on just a small portion. While she ate, she studied her father. “Are you sure you don’t have a clue what this is about?”

  “No, I don’t.” He turned to her. “Why? What did they say to you?”

  “Well, the man in the panama hat had quite a lot to say to me, actually. Some of it I’m really struggling with.”

  “Like what?” Such a challenge was in his voice that she waited a bit, just staring at him. “Well, a big one is the fact that my mother was murdered.” She studied his gaze, until he slowly closed his eyes and dropped his head back. “It’s true, isn’t it?” she asked in disbelief.

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, it’s true.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she cried out.

  He let his head roll over toward her. “What good would that do? She was murdered on a dig in Egypt. You had an absolute fascination for the same work that we did. She wouldn’t have wanted you to lose that for fear that something like that would happen to you,” he stated simply. “I knew it wasn’t what she would have wanted.”

  “But getting murdered, my God …”

  He nodded. “I know. Believe me. I know. It was just a brutal, brutal time.”

  “You could have told me,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t have held it against the country, but obviously there should have been an investigation. … There should have been something.”

  “There was,” he began, “but, as usual, … they couldn’t find anything.”

  “Nothing?”

  “There was no proof of anyone having murdered her,” he replied. “We were on a dig. When I woke up, I went out that morning, talking with the guys, and, when I came back, she was already dead.”

  “I still don’t believe it,” she wailed. “Don’t you think that is something a daughter should know?”

  “It wasn’t worth the headache and the hassle and the grief.” He dropped his head into his hands, as if resting them.

  “How’s the head?” she whispered.

  “Feels like I’ve been hit with a bottle over the head a few times,” he noted. “It feels terrible.”

  “They were also asking me about some of the antiquities we have taken,” she paraphrased.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured, looking at her.

  “They seem to think that you have been cheating. Like stealing, something along that line.” She gave a wave of her hand. “It wasn’t exactly clear to me, but they seem to believe that you have been filtering antiquities and artifacts out of Egypt to private collections.”

  He stared at her, his eyes wide. “Jesus, where are they getting that from?”

  “They are quite convinced apparently,” she murmured. “He’s been watching you for a long time.” Marcus just shook his head. “Please tell me that you’re not involved in anything like that.”

  He turned his head and stared at her. “Did he say when this started?”

  “Before Mom’s death apparently. That’s how he ended up telling me that she was murdered. He assumed I already knew.
Not an unreasonable assumption, considering she was my mother and all.”

  He shook his head, muttering, “Jesus, Jesus.”

  She sat here and slowly finished eating, as she watched him, then took another sip. “Do you want more water?”

  “No,” he snapped. “I want a drink.” She motioned to the water, but he quickly made it clear. “Not that.”

  She winced because she was penned up with an alcoholic who didn’t have any booze available. It was worse than she thought earlier, and it would make her detention here even more difficult. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” He faced her. “I’m the one who got you into this situation.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I can hear your mother in the back of my head right now, reaming me out for having put you in this spot.”

  “Well, I still don’t quite know what kind of a spot it really is.” She yawned; it surprised her as it broke free. “But it’s certainly a spot I would like to get out of. So, if there’s anything you can do to help, please give them whatever they want,” she stated. “Otherwise I don’t think we’re getting out of here at all.”

  He stared at her, didn’t say a word, and dropped his head onto his hands once again.

  She rolled over and lay down on the dirt. It would only be harder the longer they were here. Even now, more and more questions rolled around inside her head. Irritating questions. And her father had not denied his involvement in any of this, and that worried her more than anything.

  She sent out a wordless prayer to anybody who could possibly hear her, crying out for help. Please, if somebody is out there and if somebody can give us a hand, we’re desperately in need. And, just as she went to sleep, she almost thought she heard her mother’s gentle voice.

  “Sleep, child. Just sleep.”

  The trouble with sleep was the fact that she might never wake up. And, in this scenario that her father had apparently gotten them into, that possibility was all too likely. Resolutely she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Catching up Killian and the rest of the Mavericks on the information Hatch and Corbin had just gathered took longer than Hatch thought it should. When he finally ran out of things to say, he looked over at Corbin. “Do you have anything to add?”