“Where was that?”
There was another silence. “The ambitious, focused young woman you’re seeing now is kind of a miracle. The way she was a few years ago had me scared-the way she was when she
“Do you want to talk to her?”
“She’s
“Yes. Long story.”
“There, now, in the same room with you?”
“In another room, with my son.”
“Your son?”
“Another long story.”
“I see. Well… I’d love to hear that story when you have time to tell it to me.”
“Be happy to. Maybe in another day or two. Things are a little complicated right now.”
“I gather. In the meantime please remember what I said.”
“I’d better go now.”
“Okay, but… do what you can, David.
When the call ended, he stood at the den window, staring out at the ridge without really seeing it. How the hell was anyone supposed to keep anyone else from self-destructing?
A fresh surge of throbbing in the heel of his hand interrupted his train of thought. He raised the hand, resting it against the window sash, and the pain faded. He looked at the clock on the desk. In less than an hour, he and Kim would have to leave for their meeting with Rudy Getz.
But right now he had more pressing issues to resolve.
The wild card. The opportunity to send a message to the killer.
What should the message be?
An invitation?
To come where? To do what? For what reason?
What might the Shepherd want?
One thing the Shepherd always seemed to want was security.
Perhaps Gurney could offer him an opportunity to eliminate some element of risk in his life.
Perhaps an opportunity to eliminate an adversary.
Yes. That would do nicely.
An opportunity to kill someone troublesome.
And Gurney knew the place for it. The perfect place for a murder.
He opened the desk drawer and took out a business card that had no name on it, just a cell number.
He took out his phone and made the call. It went into voice mail. There was no salutation, no identification, just a brusque command: “State your purpose.”
“It’s Dave Gurney. An urgent matter. Call me.”
The response came less than a minute later. “Maximilian Clinter here. What’s up, laddie?” The brogue was present in full force.
“I have a request. I have to do something, and I need a special place to do it.”
“Well, well, well. Something major?”
“Yes.”
“How major exactly?”
“As major as it gets.”
“As major as it gets. Well, well. That can only mean one thing. Am I right?”
“I’m not a mind reader, Max.”
“I am.”
“Then you don’t have to ask me any questions.”
“It’s not a question, just a request for confirmation.”
“I’m confirming that it’s major, and I’m asking for the use of your cabin for one night.”
“Care to provide some details?”
“I haven’t figured them out yet.”
“The basic idea, then.”
“I’d rather not.”
“I have a right to know.”
“I’m going to invite someone to join me there.”
“The man himself?”
Gurney made no reply.
“Bloody hell! Is it the truth? You found him?”
“Actually, I want him to find me.”
“In my cabin?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he want to come there?”
“Possibly to kill me, if I can give him a good enough reason.”
“I see. You plan to spend the night in my cabin in the middle of Hogmarrow Swamp, in the hope of getting a midnight visit from a man with a good reason to kill you. Do I have this right?”
“More or less.”
“And what’s the happy ending? A split second before you get your head blown off, I drop out of the sky to save you, like fucking Batman?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I save myself. Or I don’t.”
“What are you, a one-man army?”
“It’s too damn iffy for anyone else to be involved.”
“I should be part of it.”
Gurney gazed unseeingly out the den window, contemplating the wobbly stack of assumptions under his so- called plan. Going it alone would be risky as hell. But bringing in backup, especially someone like Clinter, would be riskier. “Sorry. My way or no way.”
Clinter’s voice exploded. “You’re talking about the fucker who fucked up my life! The fucker I live to kill! The fucker I want to feed to a dog! And you’re telling me it has to be done
“I really don’t know, Max. But I see a tiny window of opportunity to stop the Good Shepherd. Maybe stop him from killing Kim Corazon. Or my son. Or my wife. It’s now or never, Max. My only chance. There are already too many variables, too many what-ifs. And one more person in the mix would be one more variable. Sorry, Max, I can’t tolerate that. My way or no way.”
There was a long silence.
“Okay.” Clinter’s voice was flat. No brogue. No feeling.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, you can use my house. When do you need it?”
“Sooner the better. Let’s say tomorrow night. From dusk to dawn.”
“Okay.”
“But I absolutely need you to stay away.”
“What if you end up needing help?”
“Who helped you in that little room in Buffalo?”
“Buffalo was different.”
“Maybe not so different. Are there keys to the cabin doors?”
