Matthew Corbett 03 - Mister Slaughter

Matthew realized what Berry had already figured out.

The fish that Zed drew were the ones that had gotten away.

And in his mind, that was freedom.

Zed understood. Matthew saw it dawn in his eyes: a spark, like a distant candle on the darkest night.

He looked at them all in turn-Berry, Matthew and McCaggers-and then brought his gaze back to the girl. She smiled and nodded once more-the universal language of yes-and he nodded also but it was hard for a man in an alien world to smile.

He dropped the pad and crayon. He turned away from them, and he began to walk along the nearest pier out toward the water. As he went, he removed his shirt. Fishermen stepped aside, for he was a mighty force in motion. He kicked off one shoe, then the other, and now he was running, and anyone who had stood between him and his destination would have gone down as if hit by a moving wall.

'Zed!' Berry cried out.

He dove off the end of the pier, into the cold river water where the sun sparkled in bright ribbons. But even as big as he was, he hardly made a splash.

They shifted their positions to see past a boat and caught sight of his head surfacing, followed by the broad shining shoulders and back. Zed began to swim with powerful, deliberate strokes, following the river's current as it flowed to the Atlantic. He kept going, past the point where Matthew thought he must surely stop and turn back. He kept going.

'He'll come back,' McCaggers said, the reflection of sun and water in his spectacles.

But Zed did not pause in his forward motion. Through the chill water, he swam on.

'He won't go too very far,' McCaggers said.

What was too very far? Matthew wondered if on all those nights Zed had studied the stars he'd calculated the way home, and now he was bound to get there if only in his last dream as he swam downward into the blue, away from the hooks and the nets.

'Zed!' McCaggers shouted. In his voice was a hint of panic. Matthew realized that McCaggers had likely considered Zed not a slave but a companion. One of a very few he could claim, for who wished to be friends with a man who spent so much time with the dead?

Zed kept swimming, further and further out, toward the wide expanse of the sea.

McCaggers said firmly, 'He'll come back. I know he will.'

A little waterbug of a boat moved majestically between them and Zed, its patched sails flying. When the boat passed, there was no more sign of the man.

They stood there for several more minutes, keeping watch.

At last McCaggers bent down and picked up the pad and crayon, and he gave them to Berry.

'He's a good swimmer,' Berry said. 'We just may not be able to see him from here.'

'Yes,' McCaggers agreed. 'The sun's bright on the water. We may not be able to see.'

Matthew felt he ought to add something, but he could only think that one attribute of being truly free was choosing how one wished to depart from life. Still was it a triumph or a tragedy?

McCaggers walked out onto the pier. He took his spectacles off, wiped the lenses with his handkerchief and put them back on. He stood there for awhile staring in the direction Zed had gone. When he came back, he said to Berry with a note of relief, 'I think I saw him. I believe he's all right.'

Matthew said nothing; he'd already seen what looked to him like a treetrunk with twisted branches being carried out toward Oyster Island.

The work of gutting fish had begun. McCaggers turned his face away from the sea, caught sight of a bucket full of fish heads and entrails, and focused on Berry. 'Will you accompany me,' he said, 'for a cup of coffee?' He had a yellowish pallor. 'On Crown Street?'

'I will,' she answered. 'Matthew, would you go with us?'

Matthew was about to say yes when he saw two people standing a distance away. One was a tall, lean man with features part angel and part devil. He wore an elegant gray suit, waistcoat and cloak, and on his head was a gray tricorn. The other was a slimly-built woman, nearly as tall as her husband, with long thick tresses of black hair curling about her shoulders. She wore a gown of deep blue velvet, with a short jacket the same material and color. She was standing beneath a blue parasol, its hue a few shades lighter than the velvet.

Matthew felt sure he'd seen that parasol before. At the Chapel estate, possibly. In midsummer.

The Mallorys seemed to be talking quietly, admiring the work of the blades as the glistening fish were carved. Did the woman cast a sidelong glance at him? He wouldn't be surprised. They'd been shadowing him ever since he'd left the doctor's care. A day hadn't gone by when he wasn't aware of them, hovering somewhere nearby.

They turned their backs to him, and arm-in-arm they walked away in the shadow of her parasol.

McCaggers hadn't noticed them. He was still anxiously searching the distance for a swimmer.

'Some other time,' Matthew said to Berry's invitation. He didn't think he'd be very good company, with the Mallorys on his mind. 'I'd best get back to the office.'

McCaggers spoke up before the girl could respond. 'Of course! Some other time, then.'

'Ashton, I want to thank you again for saving my life,' Matthew said. 'And for letting me call you friend.'

'I think Zed is the one who saved your life. When he comes back, we'll toast freedom and friendship. All right?'

'All right,' Matthew agreed.

'You're sure you won't join us?' Berry asked imploringly.

'Let the man go about his business,' said McCaggers, and he put his hand on Berry's elbow. 'I mean are you sure you won't join us, Matthew?'

'I'm sure.'

'Zed will be back.' McCaggers looked into Matthew's eyes, and no longer out to sea. 'You saw what a good swimmer he is.'

'Yes, I did.'

'Good afternoon, then.' The coroner attempted a smile. His somber face was ill-suited to the expression and it slipped away. 'I trust no one will try to kill you anytime soon.'

'I trust,' Matthew said, but he'd realized that he was a killer himself, whether he'd wanted the title or not, and to survive in a land of carnivores he would have to grow the killer's eye in the back of his head.

'Later?' Berry asked.

'Later,' Matthew replied.

McCaggers and Berry walked on together, with his hand at her elbow. She glanced back at him, just briefly, and he wondered if she hoped he'd changed his mind. McCaggers had taken three steps when the heel of his right boot broke off. Berry helped him steady himself. He picked up the heel, and with a shake of his head at the improbabilities that make up the chaos of life he limped along at her side.

Matthew started off, heading back to Stone Street.

Before he got a block away from the waterfront, he heard a woman's voice behind him say, 'Mr. Corbett?'

He could keep going, he thought. Just keep going, and pretend not to hear.

'Mr. Corbett? One moment, please?'

He stopped, because he knew that whatever their game was, they were determined to play it out.

Rebecca Mallory was a fiercely beautiful woman. She had high cheekbones and full, red-rouged lips and intense eyes of deep sapphire that Matthew thought must have claimed the souls of many men. She held the blue parasol between them, as if offering to share its shadow. Matthew saw her husband standing behind her a few yards away, lounging against a wall.

Dr. Mallory's care of Matthew had been professional and successful, and when Matthew had gotten his clothes back he'd found the letter from Sirki to Sutch returned to him in a pocket. It was as if that discussion between night owls had never happened, but for the fact that they were watching him. What was he going to do? Show the letter to Greathouse and open up all that bloody mess? And what could he prove about the Mallorys, anyway? In fact, what did he know about them? Nothing. So best to wait, and to let the game play out. For what choice was there?

'We have a mutual acquaintance.' The woman's voice was calm, her gaze steady. She might have just said