Page 23 of Hidden Depths

“It’s a pity, Dutch. He was a good man.”

“The best.”

“You’d think it would be harder to pull off a stunt like that.”

“It was a good plan. Now we can get on with things.”

“Cuba is well and truly underway, and I have had several excellent conversations and confirmed that we will have no problems on this end. In fact, the Sheriff has offered his help if ever we should need it.”

“He should. He’s getting a good deal out of this.”

“It’s not the sweets you offer that control people, Dutch. I learned that one from Lansky, God rest his soul.” He smirked. “If you want power over people, you make sure they have too much to lose.”

“And you’re happy with the property we acquired? It’s suitable?”

“The shed’s smaller than I’d hoped for, but we’ll make it work. It’s worth it for the location.”

“It’s hard to come by much more out here. It’s the best we had on offer that gave us any amount of privacy. And it won’t take long to fit it out the way we need.”

Balthazar looked at the shack with a sagging roof nestled on the other end of the dock. There was nothing so innocuous as a fishing hovel weathered into a silvery-grey hue with cracked windows displaying a forgotten era. For anyone watching on, the only things to see were old fishing nets hung haphazardly across aged fishing paraphernalia and rusted hooks.

“It’s pretty close to perfect for what we need.”

* * *

Tom was pleased to find that the pastor’s sermon had spoken to him. It had been a confirmation that he needed to make time to thank God for all the good things. The morning passed quickly, and the congregation stood, inducing an echoing creak from the pews as the final prayer was said by another church member and everyone was dismissed.

As he expected, several people locked on to him right away, welcoming him and asking all the usual questions.

“It’s wonderful to have you with us this morning. I’m Evelyn,” said a matronly-looking woman probably in her late sixties.

“Tom.”

They shook.

“Where’s home for you?” she asked with a squinty smile.

“I live in Chicago.”

“Ooh. This must be a change in the weather.”

“Yes, it’s very different.” Then he added, because he knew she’d like it. “When I left, it was sleeting.”

“Oh my. You made the right decision coming out here, didn’t you.”

“Yes, I did. And what about you? I take it you’re a local?”

“Very much so. I’ve been here twenty years.”

“Has it changed much in that time?”

“Oh yes, it’s much busier than it used to be, but you adapt.”

“I guess you’d have to.”

“And what is it you do for a living?”

“I work for the Department of Justice.”

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