Dead Harvest

whoever's responsible acted against the explicit wishes of the Maker and the Adversary both – and is powerful enough to have done so undetected. If that's the case, what the hell do you expect that you are going to do to stop them?'

  'I don't know. But I have to try.'

  'You're pissing in the wind, Sam. If you came here for my counsel, I say keep your head down and do your fucking job.'

  'I didn't come here for your counsel – I came here for your help.'

  'Did you now?' He smiled. 'I'm surprised at you, Sam – I would've thought you'd learned better than to seek favors from my kind. The price is often steeper than you think.'

  'The way I figure it, you owe me one.'

  He laughed then, a big, roaring laugh that rebounded like a chorus off the concrete walls of the basement. 'I owe you one! Ha! That's why I've always liked you – there aren't many who'd dare march in here and speak to me that way.'

  'Yeah, well, it's not like I've got anything left to lose.'

  'We all have something to lose, Sam. Most of us just can't see it till it's gone.'

  Merihem fetched from his pocket a small leather case, from which he selected a cigar. He clipped the end with a brass-plated guillotine and struck a light with a matching lighter, rolling the tip back and forth within the flame for a moment before placing the cigar in his mouth and taking a long, slow drag.

  'I'll help you,' he said finally, loosing a heady cloud of smoke that hung thick around him like a shroud. 'I'll ask around, see if there's anything to this theory of yours. Just keep your nose clean for a couple of days while I do my thing, OK? Try not to do anything stupid.'

  'Thanks, Merihem. I appreciate it.'

  'You understand I still think your theory's full of shit. But better I do the asking than you – the folks who hold your leash don't take kindly to sedition.'

  'I'm sure that's true.'

  'If I find nothing, you'll take the girl?'

  'I'll consider it.'

  'You'll consider it.'

  'That's right.'

  Merihem sighed. 'No matter,' he said. 'By you or someone else, she'll be taken soon enough. Is there someplace I can reach you?'

  I smiled. 'You don't really think I'd tell you where we're staying, do you?'

  He returned the smile. 'No, but one does have to try.' He recited a number. 'Can you remember that?'

  I repeated it back to him. He nodded his assent. 'Call me there in two days' time. And Sam?'

  'Yes?'

  'In the interim, try not to get yourself killed, would you?'

8.

Charcoal-smudged clouds scudded westward across the Manhattan skyline as the first faint rays of sunlight peeked over the eastern horizon. The city was quiet as I left the ferry terminal and strolled west toward Battery Park. I'd walked the streets of Staten Island all night, trying to process what Merihem had told me. But no matter how I looked at it, it just didn't make sense.

  I mean, I was sure of what I'd seen. Something had been inside Kate's head. Something powerful. Something vicious. Something certainly capable of the horrors I'd seen in the morgue. Not to mention, if I was wrong and Kate was to blame, then why torture the mother? Why wait for an audience to arrive before slitting her throat?

  No, whatever killed Kate's family had been putting on a show. It wanted no doubt in anyone's mind that Kate had done the deed. Why? That, at least was simple. It wanted to ensure I'd finish the job – no fuss, no mess, no questions. It wanted her taken, and that's the part I couldn't square. I mean, in a war between heaven and hell, who wins?

  As I wandered, lost in thought, across State Street, I tapped out a cigarette, cursing as it slipped from my cold-clumsy hands. I bent to retrieve it. Only then did I hear the roar of the engine. Loud and low and approaching fast. I looked up. An old Crown Vic skittered around the corner off of Pearl, tires squealing. It leveled the yellowy gaze of its headlights on me and bore down hard. Thirty feet. Twenty. Ten. I was running out of time.

  I leapt aside. Not fast enough. My hip exploded in pain as bumper met flesh.

  The impact spun me end over end. I tumbled to the pavement like a rag doll, cracking my head against the centerline. The driver laid on the brakes and the Crown Vic came to a screeching, crooked halt amidst a cloud of thick blue smoke that reeked of melted rubber. I tried to move. It didn't take. My left leg felt like it was full of hot lead. My head didn't feel much better. Then the car clunked into gear, and the reverse lights came on.

  I was beginning to think these guys didn't like me.

  The engine whined as the car swerved backward toward me. Close and coming fast. With all I had, I threw myself aside, or tried. With my leg still not cooperating, I barely moved a couple feet. As I glanced toward the car, I caught a glimpse of my own frightened stare, reflected in the chrome of the bumper. But in an instant it was gone, replaced by a blur of fender as the Crown Vic whizzed past, scant inches from my face. I collapsed backward onto the pavement. My chest heaved with every ragged breath as I stared, spent, at the gray morning sky. Two for two, I thought – not too shabby. I was out of gas, though, and I knew it. If they came at me a third time, I was toast, and this body was heading right back where I found it. I wondered queasily whether the docs would even recognize poor Jonah once that Crown Vic had its way. It wasn't a comforting line of thought.

  But they didn't take another pass. Instead, the engine cut out. Four doors opened, and then slammed shut.