[Ben Hope #18] The Rebel’s Revenge by Scott Mariani

Author:Scott Mariani
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Social Science, Action & Adventure, Mystery & Detective, Conspiracy Theories, Crime, Suspense, Military, International, Fiction, War & Military, Thriller
ISBN: 9780008235932
Publisher: HarperCollins UK
Published: 2018-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

Ben now found himself standing at the entrance to a cavernous, barn-sized space that was a full-scale distillery operation in full swing. The floor was smooth concrete painted industrial red. Much of its area, and the interior walls, was hidden behind a mass of sacks and water drums and firewood. Closer to the centre stood a dozen or more large cylindrical moonshine stills, over eight feet tall and four feet wide, set in a broad circle like the ring of Stonehenge, gleaming copper just like the one Ben had seen dismantled for repair in the guard hut. Pipes ran across and down from the top of each cylinder to a separate water drum and then to a collector vessel into which the distilled alcohol steadily dripped. Each still sat atop its own lit wood burner, and the combined smoke from the fires was channelled towards the centre chimney by a massive corrugated-iron hood.

The heat in the room was almost overpowering and the smell of cooking mash was chokingly thick, mixed with the stench of diesel fumes from a generator that rattled and rasped in the background, powering pumps and gauges and equipment whose purpose Ben could only guess at.

At the centre of the bizarre circle, dwarfed by the height of the copper cylinders, stood all three Garrett brothers.

The argument was over money. Logan appeared to be doing most of the talking. He’d taken off the mirror shades and his eyes were defensive and anxious as he fronted his two elder siblings. He was gesticulating and saying, ‘Chill, guys, you know Biquaisse’s totally good for it. If he says he’ll pay in two weeks, he’ll pay in two weeks. Ain’t like he’s ever let us down before.’

‘Biquaisse my ass. This is ten fuckin’ Gs, Logan. You gone pussy on this fucker, or what?’

‘Come on, Seth.’

‘You go back and tell this lyin’ prick we want the money in two days or he’s gator meat.’

Ben paid little attention to their dispute. He was just watching, very still and barely breathing. His heart rate was low and calm and his blood felt cold despite the overpowering heat.

Because this was it. The final shred of proof, if Ben even needed it. Logan Garrett’s elder brothers were the same two men he had last seen escaping the scene of the murder that night. The one with the tied-back hair and the nasty scowl on his face, had been the driver of the Mustang. That would be Seth, Ben now knew. He was maybe thirty-five and wiry, with a few thousand dollars’ worth of tattoos covering his arms and neck and a pearl-handled Beretta sticking out of the waistband of his jeans. To his right stood the eldest brother, Jayce, whom Ben now recognised without a shadow of a doubt as the man he’d watched running from the guesthouse as Lottie lay dying in the hallway.

Jayce Garrett had murdered her. Jayce Garrett had personally planted the sword through her body and nailed her to the floor.

Jayce was wearing a plain white T-shirt that hung loose over black combat trousers.

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