leave. The place is a total traffic jam, and it looks like we’re going to be here awhile.
Kimberly has grown silent, trying to gauge my reaction.
“I’m stunned by this revelation,” I say, “but I just blew up two hundred and twelve blasting caps all over the world. I need to listen to the radio a minute to make sure the airport bathroom isn’t the only thing I damaged.”
She nods.
“You’re okay with that?” I say.
“Of course, father. We’re working together now. I’m going to be on your team.”
“You are?”
“You do have a team, right?”
“I do. But this isn’t a game.”
“Of course not. It’s life and death.”
I look at her a moment, then turn my attention to the radio news. The reporter is saying they have reports of numerous explosions in the general Las Vegas area, including the airport. Furthermore, at the precise time the airport bomb went off, small explosions were reported all over the country. But so far no one has reported any significant damage. It’s all two people were killed here, one there, and so forth.
I’m beginning to think the decision to detonate was not only timely, but sound. In the days to come, I bet the vast majority of deaths will turn out to be members of Darwin’s terrorist watch list.
I think about Doc Howard being Darwin all this time. He’s never spoken to me without using voice altering equipment, the quality of which has improved dramatically over the years. Though I had no way of knowing who Darwin was, I never would have suspected Doc Howard. I don’t know if Darwin was my enemy or not, or if he was planning to ambush me in Chicago, had I kept the original appointment. I don’t know why he might have wanted me dead, or even if he did. Nor do I know for certain he’s dead. I mean, all I’ve got to go on is Lou’s word. Maybe Lou killed Doc Howard to throw me off the scent. Maybe Lou is Darwin! Or maybe Doc Howard really is Darwin, and he and Lou faked his death. If he’s alive, he might still want to kill me.
I’ll want proof Doc Howard was Darwin, and I’ll want proof of his death. If it turns out Darwin’s alive, I’ll find and kill him, because I don’t like the way he’s forced me to live. I’m wealthy. I don’t need to work for the government. With Darwin out of the picture I can concentrate on living a simpler life. There’s a chip in my head that’ll require extensive surgery to remove, thanks to him. If Doc was Darwin he personally planted the chip in my brain. Worse, he got me to pay him a hundred million dollars to disable it!
Genius.
That’s what Darwin is.
A genius.
Kimberly can deny it all she wants, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Darwin’s behind her transformation from school girl to killer, assuming she’s actually done what she claims.
“How many people have you killed?” I ask.
“Eight or nine, something like that.”
“In killing, eight or nine is a big difference.”
“You think?”
“For a twenty-year-old girl? Yes.”
“Fine. Let me count.”
She does. Out loud. When she gets to number three, Professor Jonah Toth, I know she’s telling the truth. Because he’s the guy who used to follow Kimberly until about a year ago. Lou and I knew him as Jimmy T.
“Where did you kill Toth?”
“Viceroy College, Charleston, South Carolina. Men’s room. Shall I keep counting?”
“By all means.”
She continues to count. Along the way I ask a few questions. She tells me how she handled the Mayor and his aides, and their hookers, and another woman, and I remember I’d read something about the incident, and how these people had been murdered in a beach house.
Kimberly stops at nine.
“The man who befriended you gave you these assignments?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still work for him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I came to the conclusion this morning that if I’m going to continue killing people-and I am-I’m going to work alongside my father.”
“Why’s that?”
“Face it, you’re not getting any younger. And I hardly ever get to see you.”
“Can you still contact this man?”
“No. I’m moving forward. I do plan to continue seeing my boyfriend, though.”
“The post-Rapture pet salesman?” I say.
“Yes.”
“It’s a scam, Kimberly.”
“My code name is Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe Taylor.”
I start to say something, but I’m sidetracked. “I like it,” I say. “That’s a great name!”
“Really?”
“Really. Where was I?”
“The boyfriend.”
“Right. Your boyfriend’s a con artist.”
“True. And I’m an assassin. Which of us is worse?”
“Him.”
We both laugh.
“So I can work with you?” she says.
“No.”
Her face falls.
“But you can work for me,” I say.
She breaks into a grin. “Really?”
“Really. But…”
“But what?”
“Let’s not tell Mom, okay?”
