desert, abandon or escape, your orders are to kill him. He knows if he should pose a threat to you, your orders are to kill him. He knows if anything happens to you, even if it's no fault of his, it will be the same as if he failed his responsibility. He must get you back here alive.'
'Why should he follow through with any of this, if an opportunity arises?'
'Because we have something he wants.'
'And that is?'
'The ability to erase his past ... earned immunity.'
There was a selfish purity to that he could understand and believe of his father,) ust as he could feel it in himself.
'You mean he has his own `practical application of strategy.''
Justice Knox's forehead furrowed deeply.
'Correct ... now, what about my concerns with regard to you?'
'Sir, I will go wherever the practical application of strategy demands I go.'
A DUFFEL AND weapons lay ready on the bed. John Lourdes sat at the desk in his room. When he'd finished his last will and testament he folded the paper neatly and edged it with a thumb, then inserted it into an envelope along with his bank book. He sealed the envelope and wrote on it: To be opened in 4e eve/4 of my disappearance or dea4.
The truck was parked in an empty lot behind Burr's house. Justice Knox was to bring Rawbone there clandestinely. John Lourdes arrived early as he wanted to meet with Burr alone.
Burr sat at his desk. It was littered with open law books and longforgotten cups of coffee. The needle, as well, lay on a silk handkerchief. He wore the same ruffled shirt as the night before, and the air was spiked with marijuana smoke when Lourdes was ushered in by the silent female servant.
Burr's face took on an anguished look as he watched the young man rest his shotgun and rifle against his duffel.
'They're not here yet, as you are aware.'
As John Lourdes approached the desk he removed an envelope from his coat pocket. Burr took to staring out the bay window. Across the river the red cut mountains stood out against the windless blue. He set the envelope down in front of Burr.
'What is this?'
'I'd like to hire you as my attorney.'
Burr took the envelope and then turned it over. He saw what was written there.
'If I was your attorney I would advise against this quixotic nightmare.'
'Are you my attorney?'
Burr nodded with despair; he would take on that duty.
A car pulled into the driveway. Knox and Howell and the murderer, turned recruit. They watched Howell walk with him to the guest quarters above the garage. Rawbone was still dressed in his suit and derby.
'He looks like a gent being escorted home after a neat bout of night prowling,' said Burr.
'There's a bank book in the envelope.' John Lourdes went to get his duffel and weapons. 'I've signed over power of attorney. Take money for your fee. The rest is for my burial beside my mother.'
Burr put the envelope down. His gaunt face looked across the room and back into a silent collection of years. 'I remember how you used to sit in that chair.'
John Lourdes's body arched. 'So you know who I am?'
'Yes ... I have my own detectives when I need them. I remember slipping you money one night and telling you your birth was-'
'A crime of chance.'
'I saw the look on your face and regretted having said it.'
'If that's an apology, I accept.'
'He should never have come back. I warned him.'
'Some men just can't help themselves.'
'I hope you're not one of those men, John.'
