safe in refocusing his energies on Aruk. Wanting to destroy the island, depopulate it, rebuild it in his own image.
Moreland claimed it was simply greed, but I doubted it.
I visualized Hoffman at a D.C. power lunch with the brothers from Stasher-Layman. 'Soft money' changing hands, a discussion of potential sites for a multibillion-dollar project, with Hoffman getting a chunk of the profits.
Storing human garbage along with plutonium and cobalt and strontium.
The need for an isolated spot. A remote place with no political constituency.
Hoffman smiling and coming up with one.
Finding out that Moreland still lived on Aruk, but that the doctor was unable or unwilling to reverse the island's economic problems. The population sliding, the welfare checks coming in regularly; what little commerce there was, dependent upon the Navy base.
Send in the advance team: Creedman, Haygood, the Pickers. Probably others. The goal: hasten the decline and isolate Moreland so that the old man would sell out cheap.
Then Moreland starts writing letters, and the team's told to speed things up.
Creedman and Haygood coming up with a grisly touch- perverse mastery over the case that had ruined their careers. A side benefit: slaking their own hatred for women.
The team… Lyman Picker's plane crash an accident or had his big mouth offended the higher-ups?
Haygood, living on Harry Amalfi's airfield, had been in a perfect position to mess with the plane.
Creedman… the crash had taken place just after Robin and I finished drinking with him outside the restaurant. Creedman and Jacqui had both gone inside, but after the explosion only Jacqui had come out.
Creedman not bothering because he'd
Someone else had known, too: Jo, opting out at the last minute. Opting out of the base dinner, too, to plant the roaches. And now she was up there with Pam…
'Okay, let's get out of here,' said Haygood, pointing back to the rear ramp.
'Those boxes in the tunnel,' said Creedman. 'There could be something important in them.'
'They could also be rigged. We'll check it out later.'
'I opened a few boxes,' I said. 'All I saw was food and drugs and bottled water. Like I said, he's planning for Armageddon.'
'Stop being so helpful,' said Creedman. 'It won't do you any good.'
Haygood said, 'Come on, folks. Out.' He might have been guiding a tour.
He turned his back on the music room and began to herd us forward.
'Actually,' I said, 'he does have some kids down here.'
A strangled noise rose from Moreland's throat.
Haygood stopped. 'That so?'
'Right in there.' I pointed to one of the sleeping areas. Haygood's eyes followed. 'Want to see?'
Before he could answer, I shouted,
Creedman cursed and Haygood's hand tightened around his gun. But he stayed calm and kept his eyes on the sleeping-room entrance.
Nothing happened. Haygood smiled. 'Very funny, sir. Onward.'
Then a small white face appeared in the doorway to the music room. Two others.
Three, four, five, six. All of them, openmouthed and wide-eyed with wonder.
Except the blind one. He was making quick little circles with his hands.
Lesions and scars bright as strip-joint neon.
Haygood's calm finally shaken.
Creedman's face lost its color. 'Oh, shit,' he said, and took his eyes off me. I hit him hard under his nose, grabbed for his gun as he went down, but missed. Shoving Robin out of the way, I threw myself on top of him.
Haygood wheeled around. The soft people began croaking and rasping, looking at Moreland, moaning that burn-victim moan.
Moreland ran toward them. Haygood aimed his gun at the old man's back. The soft people kept coming and Haygood's bafflement gave way to revulsion and fear as he stepped back.
I had Creedman's gun now and was punching blindly at his face.
Haygood charged Moreland, shoved him to the floor, kicked at his head, aimed at me. The soft people were between us. I crouched low. They kept coming at Haygood and he struck out at them wildly as they cowered and moaned. Retreating closer to the door he believed was rigged to blow, he stopped. Trapped, confused.
Brassy hair visible above the throng. I pointed Creedman's gun at it.
But I was an easy target, too, and he raised his gun arm high while fending off the soft people with his free hand.
I shifted sharply to the right, trying to stay clear of the soft people so they wouldn't be caught in the middle.
Haygood lost sight of me, as he shoved and circled.
Moreland got to his feet, hurled himself at Haygood.
Haygood turned reflexively at the movement and fired. Moreland's left arm turned red and he fell.
The soft people converged upon his prone form. Haygood looked for me, but I was behind him.
I shot him five times.
His black slicker exploded. He stood there for a second. Collapsed.
The soft people were all over Moreland, croaking and moaning as he bled.
Robin was shouting my name and pointing.
Creedman trying to get up, holding his face. Blood gushed through his fingers. One eye was swollen shut and his nose was already blackening.
I put the gun to his forehead. He sank back down.
Robin pressed herself against the wall, staring at me. All the blood.
Moreland struggled to stand, the wounded arm dangling, dripping, the other arm trying to shield the soft people.
They were entranced by Haygood's corpse. Gray skin, eyes really dead now, dull and empty as the shark's. Gaping mouth leaking pink vomitus.
Blood spread from under him, settling in the crevices of the stone floor.
I'd turned him into a sieve.
I felt big as a building, sick to my stomach.
I'd never owned a firearm, never imagined killing anyone.
Robin, being there to see it.
37
Moreland's blood took me away from those thoughts. His sleeve was dyed crimson, and red drops hit the floor with a soft plunk.
He seemed unaware, kept trying to calm his kids.
As Robin ran to him, he said, 'It's all right, dear. Right through the muscle- the latissimus- and I'm leaking not spurting, so the brachial artery's been spared. Probably the basilic vein… I'll be fine. Get me a clean shirt from the basket in there and I'll staunch it.'
He smiled down at the smaller of the men who'd met us at the end of the tunnel. 'A little booboo, Eddie. Daddy's going to be just fine. Go help Gordon.' Pointing to the blind man who was up against a wall, grimacing and threshing the air.
'Go, Eddie. Tell him everything's okay.'
The little hunchback obeyed. Robin came back with a plaid shirt and Moreland pressed it against his arm. Smiling at me, he said, 'Wonderful bluff. We're a good team.'
One of the soft women looked at Haygood's body and started to whimper.
