progress. The people who lied and cheated and stole.'
'Like Joe Mauser?' I said. 'Like Mya Loverne? Like your family? '
'You don't get it,' Roberts said. 'You and everyone, ignorance is the new intelligence. Athena Paradis and David
Loverne don't exist. They're shells, Parker. Husks. As soon as their public life overtook their private life, as soon as who they were became more important than what they were, they ceased to exist. People like you, you're happy to stare at the shell and as long as it's pretty, you don't care what putrid shit is underneath. My great- grandfather understood this. He was the only one who had the balls to make things right. He brought together the Regulators to kill the disease that everyone else ignored. Jeffrey Lourdes? Athena Paradis? All I did was kill what needed to be killed. You should be thankful. And you will be. See, to realize my destiny, I had to cut off everything that weighed me down. Soon I'll do the same for you.
Then you can report my story with a clearer head. You're gonna make me famous, Parker.'
He pushed me toward another closed door. Looked at me.
Then pushed the door open.
Amanda was tied to a chair, her hands bound behind her back. A handkerchief wrapped around her mouth. Her eyes widened when she saw me. Pleading. Helpless.
'Amanda!' I shouted. Lunged for her. Felt the butt of the gun come down on the back of my neck, driving me to the ground.
Amanda shrieked as loud as she could. Which wasn't much.
Roberts knelt down next to me. I could feel his breath on my face. He smelled like tobacco and sweat. He grabbed my shirt in his hand, pulled me closer. He was breathing heavy, and the calm in his eyes had been replaced by a manic anger.
I was sure the eyes I was seeing right now were the same eyes that killed Athena. Joe. Jeffrey. David. And nearly Mya.
'See, Henry, you're a shell. You're one of them. I know about you. I know what happened to you last year. I know about all those reporters who love you, think you're a hero, and the ones that hate you, think you go against everything that's noble about your profession. Who you are has become more important than what you are. I can fix that.'
'You can kill me,' I said. 'But leave Amanda out of this.
Let her go.'
'Not on your life,' Roberts said. 'If you hadn't noticed, I already let all the other useless ones go. I need Amanda for this. You can do a whole lot more good than she ever can. You have a voice. I need that voice to reach people, so they understand what I've done. But you also have a shell. You have a protective skin. All I'm going to do is remove that skin. I don't plan to leave this building alive. But neither will Amanda. And then you'll be free, Henry.'
Amanda was listening to every word he said. Listened to the ravings of a murderer as he discussed why he was going to kill her, her eyes growing wider. The fear in her eyes made me want to forget the gun pointed at my head, run over and throw my arms around her. But I knew I couldn't. I was the reason Amanda was here right now. I mouthed I'm sorry.
Amanda didn't react.
'So here's what's going to happen,' Roberts said. 'Davies, you're going to come with me. Parker, you're going to sit and watch like a gentleman.'
'What makes you think I'm going to do a damn thing?' I spat.
Roberts took a step back, then drove the butt of the gun into my stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air, bile surging upward.
While I was on the ground, he went over to Amanda, grabbed her by her bound hands and lifted her up out of her chair. She tried to struggle, but Roberts was strong.
He pushed her in front of him, the rifle pointed at her head. He marched Amanda into the conference room. The windows faced the street. It was a beautiful day. Ordinarily I could sit at my desk and watch the sun reflect off the towers in Rockefeller Center. Now I had to watch dozens of cops and reporters crowd the sidewalk. Cameras recording every second, waiting for something to headline their newscast or make their page one.
I crawled into the room, my legs still too weak to carry me.
Roberts walked up to the window, then he took the rifle and swung it at the glass, shattering it. Dozens of shards tumbled outward and I heard them sprinkle against the pavement.
Suddenly he shoved Amanda's face toward the window. I could hear her gasps, her sobs, still trying to get free. I struggled to find my footing. I knew that all those cameras were focused on the face of William Henry Roberts as he held my girlfriend, Amanda, hostage. And I knew, in that instant, he was going to kill her for the cameras. He was going to give them their page one.
'You sick fuck,' I breathed, holding a table for balance.
'This isn't about her or me. It's about you. You and your sick fucking family.'
Roberts turned slightly, looked at me. 'I wouldn't expect you to understand, Henry. But after Amanda dies, you will.'
I heard a click, knew that the Winchester was loaded and ready to fire. Amanda struggled, but his other arm was clamped around her neck, nearly cutting off her air supply.
'Billy the Kid was a fraud,' I said. 'He was as much a hero as a donkey's ass. He was a scrawny little prick who happened to have good aim. His legacy is worth squat, just like yours.
Nobody will remember you tomorrow. You'll be dead, and people will move on like you never existed.' The anger seethed through my voice, my veins felt like they were on fire.
I took another step closer, saw Roberts's finger tighten on the trigger.
I heard a fluttering sound from outside, a fwap fwap fwap that could only have been a helicopter, homing in on us from an unseen direction. Staring at the building across the street,
I could see windows opened, marksmen waiting for a clean shot to take out Roberts. They couldn't do it with Amanda in the way. They needed a clean shot. They needed separation.
Roberts was ignoring me, speaking to Amanda. 'Miss
Davies, like so many others before you, you will accomplish much more in death than in life. Henry, I trust you'll know what to make of all this. I know you'll know how to properly record my history.'
I stepped forward again, spoke louder.
'Tell me,' I said. 'How did it feel to see your mother getting fucked by that priest?'
Roberts's finger slipped off the trigger. I saw the gun waver slightly. He didn't turn. Didn't look at me.
'Your mom, Meryl, I guess your father couldn't show her
God so she had to try someone a little closer to the almighty.
Bet Dad was proud, too. Bet he watched them. Bet you listened in, you freak, watched Mark Rheingold leave your house late at night, early in the morning. Bet your mom left him something nice on the collection plate.'
'Shut your fucking mouth,' Roberts said.
'You claim all this is about bringing down Sodom and Gommorah, I say this is about some poor little kid who saw his mommy getting drilled by the guy who passes around communion wafers. You were pissed, so you killed him and your whole family. How's that for the legacy of Billy the
Kid. His descendants were so messed up they couldn't satisfy their wives. Think I'll take another trip down to Fort
Sumner, fix up that tombstone of his. Right now it says
'Pals.' I'm thinking it should say Billy the Kid: Always
Shooting Blanks.'
For a split second, Roberts's face turned away from
Amanda and his eyes met mine. They burned in a way I hadn't seen before. They were unfocused, angry, like he'd begun to lose a bit of control. Though he was in fact a coldblooded murderer, in William's mind he was a savior.
'See,' I said. 'The way you're looking at me right now, those aren't the eyes of a Regulator. They're the eyes of a guy who kills for his own sick pleasure.'
He swept his gaze back to Amanda, the rifle muzzle still digging into the nape of her neck. Sobs were racking
