Dead Men's Dust

    'Oh, for pity's sake. Use the door, will you?' Petoskey said.

    'We'll leave as we came,' I said as we continued to back out.

    'Do me a favor,' Petoskey called as we stepped through the hole into the abandoned office. 'When you do find Telfer, tell him I want my ten grand. Plus thirty percent interest. And you can tell him not to show his face around any of my places again. He's not welcome. Tell him he can post the money to me.'

    If he'd let it lie at that, I don't know where the hunt would've taken us next. As it was, like many self- righteous punks, he loved the sound of his own voice too much. 'And tell him my car had better have a full tank of gas when he drops it off.'

    I stepped back into the opening. What a difference a couple of seconds had made. Tough guys all, the goons in the ring were already fighting their way past one of the dogs in an effort to get out. To win face with their boss, and without exception, they offered to chase us down. Petoskey and the other two suits had moved toward them, and Siggy wasn't a happy puppy.

    My SIG rapped a sharp command, shattering the light fixture above their heads.

    Did you ever play the children's game called Statues? You stand with your back to an advancing group, you turn around sharply, and the group has to become petrified in place, as though under a gorgon's stare. Anyone who moves is out of the game. Well, that's what it felt like then.

    My gun was now a useless threat, but I aimed it anyway.

    'Telfer took one of your cars?' I demanded.

    'Yes,' Petoskey snapped. 'If you'd taken the time to read your friends' reports you would already know that.'

'Must've missed it,' I said. 'What car are we talking about?'

'Read the damn report,' Petoskey said.

    I took three steps, my anger level rising with each one. Grabbing Petoskey by his lapels, I jammed the SIG under his chin with my other hand.

    Petoskey's eyes went wide. That a government agent would actually have the balls to shoot him with all these witnesses standing around was now a definite possibility. Maybe I should have shot him. Undoubtedly, the world would've been a better place with one less scumbag in it.

    'Just tell me what damn car you're talking about or I swear to God I'll kill you,' I said.

    'Pontiac,' Petoskey snapped. 'It's a goddamn Pontiac. Okay?'

    'Write down the license number,' I ordered.

    'I haven't got a pen,' Petoskey said.

    'Find one.' I pushed him away from me. Petoskey's face was scarlet. He actually stepped back toward me.

    'Here,' one of the other suits said quickly, pulling an expensivelooking gold-plated pen from a jacket pocket. Petoskey snatched it out of his hand, then glanced around looking for paper. Again the suit came to the rescue, tearing a page from an equally expensive pocket diary. Petoskey quickly scribbled down a number, then thrust it at me.

    'Satisfied?' he asked.

    I snatched the paper out of his hand.

    'Thank you,' I said.

    'You're welcome,' Petoskey said. Not that I believed him. My spite was reflected by his bilious glare. We were rival wolves meeting on a forest trail. We edged backward, neither wanting to be seen to be giving ground, but each recognizing the prudence of doing so.

    Rink was at my shoulder. He made a cautious noise in the back of his throat, Rinkese for 'We've outstayed our welcome, Hunter.' How could I possibly disagree? It was definitely time to leave if the clamor of reinforcements charging up the far staircase was anything to go by.

    We played it cool as we stepped through the hole in the wall. Then we ran like hell.

19

mr. so-called-ambrose wasn't a name that came easily to the lips, so Cain decided he'd refer to him simply as thief. It was all he was, and he didn't deserve to be called anything else. Thief, thief, thief.

    Names always fascinated Cain. To be named is the achievement of recognition, and he wasn't about to give Ambrose the honor. He was nothing in Cain's estimation. Just a bum. Below contempt. Nothing but a sneaking thief.

    The thief was back in his room now. Probably wondering what to do about the flat tire. There was a spare bolted to the rear of the vehicle, but the thief appeared to be the type of man too easily defeated when it came to mechanical contrivance. He was both inept with a lug wrench and too damn lazy to use it. The latter was probably the overriding factor. Why go to the trouble of changing a defective tire when he could go steal himself another car?

    Evening was fully upon the hotel now. Way out over the ocean the stars were pale glimmers on a velvet backdrop. Here, the light cast through tinted lenses onto the hotel facade was mint green and coral pink. A cornucopia of shadows jittered and danced as a faint breeze stirred the foliage.

    Cain watched as the rosy-cheeked receptionist finished her shift, wandered out into the parking lot, and drove off in an imported Ford Ka. He was tempted to follow her, to act out the fantasy that had been playing through his mind these past hours. In the end, he let her go. Weighed against the risk of losing sight of the thief, it wasn't worth it. Other opportunities would arise to invite the girl back to his special place.

    Cain opened the car door and stepped out onto asphalt. The air still held the heat of the day. He shrugged out of his jacket, pulled off his tie, and unbuttoned his collar. Jacket and tie went in the trunk of the car.

    He wandered around the side of the building to the garden area, savoring the scent of jasmine only slightly tainted by exhaust fumes from the highway. The pool rippled under fluorescent lighting, a vibrant blue that was now