At every turn, Agostini surprised her. She had no idea whether what he did at the auction was legal, but it was certainly sharp. He and Dino had talked about the risk of an “investigation,” and it was obviously something they wanted to avoid. And that thing earlier. A chill ran through her. She couldn’t think about it directly.
They traveled over country that seemed featureless and dull to Princess. Callaghan drove for the better part of an hour. Towns slid by in the distance, but they never drove on a road bigger than a two-lane.
And the damned man was so hot. She couldn’t think directly about that for too long either or it could blur her sense of purpose.
Turning into a low-rise suburban subdivision, they passed clusters of well-kept houses with tended lawns out front and new-ish cars in the driveways.
Callaghan pulled up at a chain-link around what had once been a carefully planted front yard. Now it was overgrown with brown and gray grasses.
Agostini pushed the bell and rapped his knuckles on the door. The owner took his time to open up. An old man in a wheelchair wore a faded wool dressing gown with pajamas underneath. Tubes ran from his nostrils to an oxygen bottle strapped to the back of the wheelchair.
“Dale Honer?” Pierce said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Dale Horner’s eyes narrowed as he scowled up at Agostini and then at the rest of his party. The look he gave Princess was simply, Who are you and why are you here? He obviously wasn’t expecting her, Pierce Agostini, or anyone else. And he wasn’t thrilled by the surprise.
Agostini leaned down to speak to Horner. Princess couldn’t hear any of what he said, but the tension on Dale Horner’s cheeks and jaw told her that what he heard hadn’t filled him with joy either.
With a dark scowl, Dale waved his arm to call the group inside. Then he turned his chair. He made no effort to hurry the manoeuver or to disguise the awkwardness of it.
Stepping into the corridor, Princess was immediately aware of disinfectant, day-old PJs and slippers past their retirement age. Behind it all as they passed through the house, everywhere, was a faint whiff that Princess couldn't ignore or dismiss, and that she couldn't pretend was anything other than weak, stale urine.
Pierce touched her arm. It was meant to reassure her, but as she looked up at his face, she saw that he must have felt the same surprise flash of lightning that she did.
His eyes searched hers. Still, he put his hand on her shoulder and she felt comforted. Like whatever happened here, Agostini would look after her.
She had to remember that in Marley’s bar, when the old man pulled a gun, the first thing Agostini had done was to pull her behind him. To put himself between her and the weapon.
In the living room, a big man stood waiting in a white tunic and pants with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. Horner said, “I only have Nate here for two hours, Mr. Agostini.” Horner’s voice seemed to have a military beat and the sense of command, long worn away by age and care.
Princess thought that if she listened long enough, she could hear his whole history, like a forensic trace or an archaeological document. She hoped she wouldn’t hear too much more of it.
“Nate’s got about twenty minutes of kitchen chores to do,” the old man told all of them, Nate included. “After that, if you ain’t through talking, you’ll be finishing up while Nate scrubs me in the bath.”
Mr. Horner did not seem eager to reach that feature of his day. Nate kept his light, professional smile in place. Princess sat in the only available armchair, which was not comfortable at all.
Pierce Agostini hitched the creases in his suit pants to settle onto the mottled brown velour couch. He told Callaghan, “Help Nate to fix us all some tea.” Nate’s eyes stayed on Pierce as Callaghan accompanied him out of the room.
Agostini sat back and expanded his arms like he was never in a finer lounge. He could certainly be an actor if he chose, she thought. He told Horner, “I’ll get right to it, Dale. I believe you have a grandson. Got into Princeton. You must be very proud of Angus.”
“Proud? Poor bastard's dying under the weight of the fees. He’ll never be able to do what he qualified for, not for anyone other than a Wall Street bank. Angus went to university to help people out of poverty. Those damned bankers make him do nothing but grind other folks down into it. Folks just like him, often as not.”
Agostini said, “Farmland like yours should be fetching around eighteen hundred dollars an acre about now.”
Horner narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, I knew this would be about the farm spread. It was you called yesterday, wasn’t it?” His eyes flicked over at Princess, as though he associated her with his obvious distaste for Pierce Agostini.
“I already told you on the phone, Mister, I ain’t selling. At today’s prices, the whole parcel wouldn't be enough to pay off Jordan’s loans. I’d sooner he had something to inherit. Could be worth something by then.”
“What you say makes perfect sense.” Agostini smiled. “But if you would, hear what I have in mind. I think you’ll be glad you did.” Agostini leaned forward, closer to Horner, and he lowered his voice. “What I’d like to do, Dale—I want to buy that land, and you know that I do. I’ll give you twenty-two hundred dollars per acre.”
“It's over the market rate. And it's a generous offer. I still don't want to sell, though.”
Agostini raised his hand. “Hear me out, Dale. I know you don’t want to sell. What I want the land for—in eighteen months from now it can go back to crops or grazing land. Whatever you want. I’ll continue to own it, but I’ll lease it back to you annually for a dollar an acre. Plus,” he took an envelope from his inside pocket, “I think this is the amount of Jordan’s school fees. I'd like to give that to you as a signing bonus.”
“Where's the catch?”
“I don't know, Mr. Horner. As far I can see it, the only catch is,” he lifted his eyebrows and pushed up his bottom lip, “if you take the deal, you may find me a little harder to dislike.”
Clouds of expression passed over Horner’s craggy face like slow, changing weather. Eventually, he looked up with moist eyes and his head shook. “Thank you, Mister.” He pressed his lips tight together, then said, “I don't know what else to say.”
Princess wanted to hug the man.
Back in the car, she asked him, “Was that performance for my benefit?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She shook her head and tutted at him. “Acting all human like that.” Agostini adopted a parody of an innocent face. “Well, I’ll tell you, it isn’t going to work.”
“As always, Princess, I’ve no idea what you mean. It’s worked already. I’ve got the deeds for all three properties in the bag.”
“And why do you need all of those properties?”
“Still think you can trick the villain into spilling his dastardly plans?” He grinned and shook his head. “Calhoun, it’s been a long day. Book us into a decent hotel somewhere nearby. We’ll drive back tomorrow.”