Hostile Odds

“Yeah, Moran’s no longer with us.”

Newbury looked at Bolan in shock. From her expression she knew good and well what Bolan meant by the comment. He looked for something more there, but he didn’t get anything. He still had no real reason to trust Newbury, but for now he only needed her for information.

“Like I said,” Newbury said more quietly, “Mac hits the sauce pretty often and pretty hard. And he likes his women, too. Considers himself somewhat of a ladies’ man. He’s even hit on me a few times at the restaurant. Usually it’s after the bars close and he’s been out most of the night. I always just tell him I have a boyfriend and that seems to satisfy him.”

“Well, if you need somebody to actually stand in for the part, give me a call.”

Newbury burst into laughter. “You know, that’s about the most gentlemanly offer I’ve had in quite a while. Say, you mind if I ask you something?”

Bolan shook his head.

“This other business you have to do. What exactly is it?”

Bolan considered the question a moment and then shrugged. “When I went to the mill for my little job interview this morning, some of MacDermott’s guys searched my vehicle. I expected they would, so I didn’t leave anything incriminating inside of it. Still, that tells me they’re up to something. I need to find out what it is, make sure if I get chummy with this MacDermott I’m not going to get blindsided.”

“Okay, sure, but what exactly are you going to do?” Newbury pressed.

“Simple. I’m going to do exactly what they’re hoping I’ll do,” Bolan said.

“Which is?”

“Pick a fight.”

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