Page 95 of The Shadow Friends

“Excuse me. Forty years younger.”

“Try thirty!”

“Okay, whatever. But I’m guessing they were a thing back in the day. Weren’t they? Was he also a NOC?”

“They worked together in France,” said Declan.

“And Ingrid was a hot ticket too,” added Ben. “You may find it hard to believe, Jo, but we were all hot tickets back then.”

“Alas, time marches on,” sighed Declan.

She heard the wistful note in his voice. Looking at Ben’s shaved scalp, at Declan’s black and silver hair, she thought about the memories contained in those heads, the secrets that would never be revealed. When Jo had first met the members of the Martini Club, all she’d seen were their wrinkles and gray hair. She’d found it hard to imagine them in their prime, to look beyond the benign retirees they pretended to be and see them as they really were: people you did not want to cross.

“Try calling the woman again,” said Ben.

Jo dialed Hannah Murray’s cell phone. The call again went straight to voicemail. “She’s still not answering.”

“I don’t like this,” said Ben.

Neither did Jo.

It was after five o’clock when they finally crossed the New Hampshire border into Massachusetts. Ben’s GPS sent them through the town of Amesbury and then west, into a gentle landscape of farms and woodland, where the trees were still cloaked in autumnal reds and golds, the last burst of color before winter stripped them bare. The route took them down smaller and smaller roads, until they reached a gravel driveway that cut into the woods and curved out of sight beyond the trees. A heavy-duty chain, secured by metal posts, stretched across the entrance, barring any vehicles.

“That’s industrial strength,” Ben noted, looking at the chain. “I wonder who they’re trying to keep out.”

“Maybe they’ve had break-ins,” said Jo. “There aren’t any nearby neighbors to keep an eye on the property.”

Ben pushed open his door. “Looks like we have to walk from here.”

After the long drive, Jo was glad to climb out of the back seat and stretch her legs. She arched her back, looked up at the leaves quivering on the branches above. Except for the chirp of the last of the season’s crickets, it was quiet here. So quiet. The perfect place to disappear to. Is this where you’re hiding, Andrei?

Ben led the way as they squeezed around the posts and continued up the driveway, their shoes crunching across gravel. The road was not well maintained, and saplings had sprung up along the edges, the advance scouts of an arboreal invasion. Three years ago, this was the address Hannah Murray had used when she registered her car, but judging by the weedy overgrowth on the road, no one had been here for months. Jo imagined herself walking alone on this deserted road with nightfall approaching and the woods so silent that every step she took seemed like a deafening clatter of gravel. She was glad the men were with her, glad to have a weapon on her hip. Through the trees, she glimpsed the house: a low-slung ranch with an attached garage. Under a covered shed was a cord of firewood, stacked and ready for the colder months ahead.

In the front yard, Jo paused and looked up at a massive satellite dish mounted on the rooftop. “Someone really likes their Netflix,” she said.

Ben and Declan regarded the satellite dish, then they glanced at each other.

“Smile,” said Declan quietly. “We’re on Candid Camera.”

“What?”

“Don’t look up, Jo,” said Ben. “This house has a multichannel security system. They already know we’re here, so let’s not rattle them more than we have to. Just play the clueless cop and ring the bell.”

“Me?” said Jo.

“A woman is less likely to alarm them.”

Oh sure. Put me in front, she thought, but she couldn’t argue with Ben’s logic. She took a breath and climbed the porch steps. She imagined the homeowner crouched behind that door, rifle at the ready, prepared to blast away any trespassers. The men were right behind her, but she was the one who’d catch the first bullet. She paused in front of the door. It was oak, solid. No windows on either side of it, just a single peephole.

She rang the bell. Waited a moment, rang it again. Finally, she knocked on the door.

No sound came from inside the house.

She looked back at the men. “Doesn’t seem like anyone’s home.”

“Leave it to us,” said Ben. “Stay here.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, but the men had already headed in opposite directions, both of them circling toward the rear of the house. “Guys?” she called out.