"Odd how? Like congress-has-impeached-itself-for-high-crimes-and-misdemeanors odd, or two-headed-cow odd?"
"A cow he mentions. You're psychic maybe?"
"Call me Criswell. Another moon-jumping incident?"
"Not quite. Someone killed a cow on a farm out Peconic way."
"That's not odd, that's the first step toward a Big Mac. Hard to get ground beef with the cow still alive."
"This one wasn't killed by its owner."
"Those pesky aliens again? Mutilated?"
"Beheaded."
That brought Jack up short. He looked up at Abe and saw he wasn't kidding. The thought of someone hacking away at some poor dumb animal's neck until the head fell off made him queasy.
"Jeez."
"There's more. It seems to have been done with a single blow."
"To a cow? Behead a cow with a single cut? What'd he use—a chainsaw?"
"They think it was a sword."
Ah… so this was why he'd brought it up. Jack had told Abe about the Gaijin Masamune, and how it had sliced through his shoulder like a hot Ginsu through butter—no, make that soft margarine.
But could it be the Gaijin? Maybe. It had cut through the barrel of his Glock, yes, but was any sword sharp enough to do a cow like that?
Could it have been the katana?
"You think there's a connection?"
Abe gave one of his shrugs. "A sword maven I'm not. But you yourself just told me this blade was very sharp. But then it disappears and what happens: The next night—the very next night—a cow is beheaded with a very sharp, swordlike object." His Norman Mailer eyebrows oscillated like caterpillars in heat. "Coincidence?"
Last year Jack had been given the chilling message that there'd be no more coincidences in his life. But that cow wasn't a part of his life, so why couldn't this be a coincidence?
"Do you believe that?"
Abe shook his head. "No."
"Neither do I."
Crap.
And then he remembered a passage from Kick where Hank Thompson mentioned his years of working in a slaughterhouse.
Could it be?
If so, it would be another in a long chain of noncoincidences.
But he had no way of knowing, so he let it go.
"If it was the same sword, the story could have been about your head being separated from its body."
"Tell me about it. That thing is sharp. Barely felt it cut me."
"Speaking of cuts, how did you explain yours to Gia?"
Jack glanced at his shoulder. He hadn't worn the sling today and hadn't missed it. His deltoid throbbed, but nothing he couldn't ignore.
"Haven't had to. Haven't seen her since it happened."
"What are you going to tell her?"
Jack shrugged. "The truth. No biggie."
"And when are you going to tell her the truth about the accident that was no accident?"
He shook his head. "Wish I knew, Abe."
"The longer you wait, the harder it will be."
"She needs a little more distance from the acc—from what happened."
Abe looked dubious. "If you say so." He tapped the newspaper. "And this sword? What are you going to do?"
"Nothing until I hear from Slater."
"I see the flyers up already. You may be hearing soon."
Jack had referred Naka to one of his old customers, a guy with a print shop who, for an added fee, would farm out the distribution work to guys who could use the extra cash and had nothing better to do.
"Even then, I may opt out."
"You're saying you're going to stop looking? You?" He shook his head. "Such little self-awareness. You know you're not."
"Am too. Going to wait for that katana to come to me."
Abe frowned. "That'll happen, you think?"
Jack nodded resignedly. "Yeah. Got a feeling it will. A bad feeling."
Hank waved one of the flyers and shouted, "I want these down! I want them gone!"
Darryl and Menck looked a little cowed as he paced back and forth across a corner of the Lodge basement. Well, they should be. He was pissed. When Darryl had brought it in to show him, he'd exploded.
He'd awakened this morning still high from last night. The air had seemed a little cleaner, the sun a little brighter.
Doing the cow had had something to do with it. Though he'd tried to avoid it, he couldn't help getting splattered with her hot blood. Messy, but it had felt good.
And then the dream. The Kicker Man was back again with the baby, cradling it in his lower right arm. But this time he was brandishing the katana in his lower left, while he held his two upper arms high in a V for victory.
The meaning was unmistakable: With the sword and the baby in his possession, nothing could stop the Kicker Evolution.
Well, he had the sword, and Dawn had been located. Only a matter of time before she and her baby were under his roof. Despite some rough spots along the way, everything was working out.
Then this flyer. What a bring-down.
Five thousand bucks for information leading to the sword. He wondered about the amount… a coincidence that it was the same reward he'd been offering for Dawn? Or a challenge?
"You've already got the sword," Menck said. "Ain't nobody else gonna get it."
"How do you know that? Whoever this guy is, he's offering a five-grand reward. We've got a lot of people moving in and out of this building, and although they're not allowed on the second floor, and although they have Kicker Man tattoos, some of them would sell their mother for half that."
Darryl said, "But—"
"But nothin! Somebody may have seen you pick it up. That someone may connect you with me. I can think of a million scenarios where this could go south. So I want those flyers down and Dumpstered. Got it?"
They nodded and spoke in unison.
"Got it."
Jack spotted him the minute he stepped through the door. Someone was sitting at his table.
"He say he waitin for you, meng," Julio said in a low voice as he met him at the door. "I saw you with him the other night so I figure 'sokay. 'Sokay?"
The guy had his back to the room, but the broad shoulders and gray hair gave him away.
Glaeken—no, make that Mr. Veilleur.
" 'Sokay."
Jack walked over and said, "Mind if I join you?"
Veilleur lifted his glass of stout in a toast and smiled up at him. "Jack. I was hoping you'd stop by." He gestured to the chair against the wall. "I saved your seat."
Julio came over as Jack sat.
"Usual?"
After two visits to the Ear in one week, Jack had developed a taste for witbier.
"Too bad you don't have any Hoegaarden on tap."
Julio made a face. "That yuppie-hippie-emo piss? You kiddin me, meng?"
Jack sighed. "The usual."
As Julio left, Jack turned to Veilleur and noticed a flyer on the table. He turned it around and recognized a photo of the katana. Naka had wasted no time.
"Where'd you get this?"
Veilleur shrugged. "A man handed it to me on my way over. A very interesting sword."
Jack debated whether to say anything about it, then decided why not.