Jack made a show of being irritated by the phrase your boy, but he didn't correct it. Later, when Ethan mentioned that Hollis seemed less frightened than before, Jack said that fear was easier to carry when another person acknowledged it. “Doesn't make the threat smaller,” he said. “Just means you don't have to wonder whether you're imagining it.”
At two, a gray pickup slowed near the entrance and continued past. At two-thirty, Ethan saw a black SUV turn off the highway and stop near the property line. He recognized the temporary registration and the driver from one of his photographs. Marcus Vane did not get out. Instead, he used his phone, watching the garage as he spoke. A few minutes later he drove away.
Jack walked to the office and sent a short message. When Ethan asked who it was to, Jack said only, “Somebody who said he'd be here.” The older man then locked the cash drawer and told Ethan not to argue with anyone who came by without an appointment. Ethan felt his stomach tighten. He placed his phone inside the breast pocket of his shirt, checked that the shop cameras were recording, and moved his evidence box from the floor to the back of the workbench.
The four men arrived at three-fifteen. They came in a dark utility truck with mud covering the company markings along the doors, but a small Caldwell Development decal remained visible on the rear panel. The driver parked across the entrance to the main bay as though blocking it were part of the plan. Four doors opened. The men who got out wore work jackets and heavy boots, not the kind of clothes Marcus Vane had chosen for his polite visit.
The leader was a broad man with close-cropped hair and a flattened nose. He introduced himself as Gabe Rusk, though neither Jack nor Ethan asked for his name. One of the other men carried a thick folder under his arm. Another had been chewing gum and kept doing it as he looked around the shop, his eyes pausing on the motorcycles waiting for collection. Jack met them just inside the entrance.
“We're closed to you,” Jack said.
Rusk smiled without warmth. “Mr. Caldwell thinks you've been wasting everybody's time.”
“Tell him he can take that up with my attorney.”
“Not necessary.” Rusk dropped the folder on the nearest workbench. “Here's your final offer. You sign the sale agreement today, and everybody goes home happy.”
Jack didn't move toward the papers. “Get out.”
Rusk gave a small nod to the men beside him. One swept his arm across the tool wall. Wrenches, sockets, and carefully labeled containers fell to the concrete in a loud metallic crash. Another kicked a stack of wheel rims, sending them rolling into the adjacent bay. The third man picked up a customer's helmet, turned it over, and dropped it onto the floor. Ethan flinched at the sound, but he didn't move until one of the men reached toward a motorcycle on the lift.