concluded. Best not to give the game away. Quickly he concealed his knives under the passenger seat. He stepped out, tasting the silicone tang of the desert.
Cain wasn't the only one acting here. Conscious that few people would even stop to pick up hitchhikers, the man was careful to show that he was harmless. His gait was amiable, boyish, friendly. As fake as Tubal Cain's smile.
'Having a little trouble, mister?' Cain asked.
'Yeah, car's broken down and I can't get it going again.' Pushing an oil-smeared palm down a trouser leg gave him the look of a bumbler, but to Cain the act seemed premeditated. His offer of a hand was no more believable.
'You're not from around here, are you?' said Cain. 'Here on vacation?'
The stranded driver shook his head. 'It's been no vacation, believe me.'
Cain studied the man's eyes. Beyond deliberate innocence, a certain amount of deceit shone through. He was hiding something, but that was all right. Everyone had something to hide.
'Not the best of places to break down,' Cain noted. The Mojave nightscape demanded their attention. 'Pretty barren.'
Nothing much more than sand and gravel and sparse vegetation, offering neither shade nor protection from the extremes of the weather, surrounded them.
Concealment of a crime could be difficult here.
'No place is a good place to break down, mister,' the man said, 'but you're right about this desert. I'm only happy that it's nighttime and I'm not stranded in a hundred degrees plus.'
'Yeah, things do get warm around here when the sun's up. It's a bitch having to walk any distance, believe me.'
'Oh, I believe you,' the driver said. He nodded toward the SUV. 'I bet that beauty's reliable.'
'Has been for as long as I've had it,' Cain agreed. That he'd only had it for eighteen hours was academic. 'You want me to take a look at your car for you? I know a thing or two about engines.'
A shake of the head toward his abandoned vehicle. With its hood raised to the star-filled heavens, it looked like a lizard attempting to swallow the distant moon. 'It's done. Blown a cylinder, I think.'
'Let's take a look.' Cain brushed past. Shoulders touched briefly. There was strength hidden beneath the man's denim shirt. Reasonably young, fit, and
'There's really no need,' the man said. 'A lift out of here'll be fine.'
Cain turned around slowly. Was that a demand? Am I supposed to be obliged? 'Let me take a look at the car first. If I can't get it going, then fine, I'll give you a ride.'
'You're wasting your time.' The man shifted his hands to his hips, inclined his chin at the broken-down vehicle. 'Piece of crap won't be going anywhere.'
'Let me take a look,' Cain said again.
'Suit yourself . . . but it won't go,' the driver said. Subtle words concealing an equally subtle action. His scratch at an itch on his side wasn't as mechanical as it seemed.
'I insist,' said Cain.
Practice makes perfect. Cain had practiced this maneuver a thousand times. He pulled the blade free of his pocket, held it braced along his wrist, took a quick step forward . . .
And met the barrel of a semiautomatic pistol aimed directly at his face.
A short laugh broke unbidden from his throat. It was neither shock nor fear. His laughter was self- deprecating. Looked like a little more practice could be in order. Not least, the resheathing of his knife. Hidden from the man's view, he slipped the blade into an outer pocket of his jacket.
'No,' the man said. 'I insist.'
Cain shook his head sadly. 'You know, I can't believe you've gone and pulled a gun on me, when all I want to do is help.'
'I appreciate your concern, mister, but I don't need your help. All I need is your car.' A jerk of the gun was an invitation for a walk in the desert.
Casting his eye over the terrain, Cain saw a deep arroyo. It was steep-sided, the bottom choked with rocks and stunted sagebrush. A good place to hide a crime after all.
'So . . . you're going to shoot me?'
The driver sucked air through his teeth.
'You're going to put me down in that hole for the coyotes to find?' Cain shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't as if he hadn't done the very same thing to many others.
'I'll only shoot you if I have to,' said the driver.
Was that so? BIG MISTAKE. Rule one: Never show weakness to your enemy.
'You're no killer.'
'I will be a killer if I have to be,' the man said. The new edge to his voice held a tremor. Fear or anticipation—either could cause a nervous man to pull the trigger. 'Climb down in that ditch and kneel down. I'm warning you, mister, if you don't do as I say, I will use this gun.'
Cain lifted his hands in supplication.
