Gil started to laugh. I knew you would. God, youre anal, John.
Its better than swimming.
Do you think I wouldnt have done it myself if I hadnt known youd provide?
How the hell do I know what youd do? You arranged this damn-fool meeting. Why couldnt you just have him call you?
Because he may need more persuading. Its too easy to hang up a telephone.
And you have a death wish.
I have a death wish? The risk isnt as great for me as for you. Ive already taken one bullet this month. I figure that puts the odds on my side. You should have stayed in Georgia and let me handle it.
Logan didnt answer.
Of course, I realize that you were afraid some-thing might happen to me. Gil gave him a sly glance. Naturally, you didnt want anything to happen to a man of my brilliance and charisma.
No?
And besides, you dont have that many friends who are willing to put up with your lack of appre-ciation for the finer things of life. Yes, I should have known youd hop on a plane for purely selfish reasons.
Purely selfish.
Ah, you admit it.
You bet I do. I couldnt stand another day at Bainbridge. The only thing I could get on the radio was Hank Williams Jr. and that damn song Feed Jake.
Gil chuckled. God, really? Thats got to be my kind of town.
I agree. Ive got an airline ticket in my pocket for you. His lips tightened grimly. If you survive tonight.
Gils smile faded. This is worth the chance, John. I managed to shake Maren. I could see it.
Then, where is he?
Were early. I think hell be here.
Only forty minutes early. But there was no sign of movement on the bank of the canal or the river. If there was a trap, he couldnt see it.
Maybe Gil had succeeded in convincing Maren. It was possible. Perhaps in a hour all this would be over and their work on Bens skull would be of sec-ondary importance.
Lord, he hoped so.
But where the hell was Maren?
The security guard looked up from talking to the clerk at the information desk. Good night, Dr. Maren, he said, smiling. Late night.
Paperwork. Its the bane of my existence. Good night, Paul. He went out the glass doors and headed for his reserved space, where his classic 1957 Corvette was parked. The timing was right. Thirty minutes and hed be at the canal.
He pulled out of the lot and turned left. With any luck, it would be over before he got there. Timwick didnt really need him to act as bait to catch Price.
So why was he going? Was it truly Price who was to be caught in the trap?
The poison Price had injected was eating into him. Lisa. Death.
Stop it. It wasnt true. Price had given him suppo-sition, not proof. Lisa and he were bound together. She knew it as well as he did.
A red traffic light flashed on the cross street ahead.
Symbolic?
It wouldnt hurt to be cautious. He wouldnt go to the meeting with Price. Hed go to his house and wait for Lisa to call him and tell him what had hap-pened. The tension immediately left him with the decision. Hed turn right at the next intersection and in ten minutes hed be home and safe.
He braked as he neared the red light.
Nothing.
He pumped frantically.
The Corvette moved toward the intersection.
It was late. Maybe the traffic
A garbage truck was heading for the inter-section. Huge. Fast Oh, God, it was moving too fast to stop.
The truck hit the drivers side of the Corvette like a tank, driving the small car sideways into the street-light on the corner. It tore through the fiberglass, through flesh and bone and muscle.
Lisa.
The man coming toward them had Marens tall build and he was alone.
I told you I got to him, Gil murmured.
