Jack grimaced. Disco ... Ceil still listens to disco.
She took her drink upstairs. Jack couldn't see into the bedroom, so he waited. And then for a moment or two he had the feeling that he was being watched. That thing again? Coming back to finish the job? Carefully he studied the shadows but didn't see anything. Eventually the feeling went away, but it left him on edge.
Got to shake this, he thought. Got to focus here.
When Ceil reappeared, she had changed into a dress. Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" was thumping now and Ceil did a little dance around the kitchen, her dress swirling around her skinny legs as she made quick graceful turns this way and that.
Remembering the good old days? Jack wondered.
Finally she finished her drink, put on a coat, and headed for the door to the garage.
Don't forget to turn off the stereo, Jack wanted to shout. Please don't leave that music on!
Her hand was on the doorknob when she stopped, turned, and hurried back to the stereo.
"Thank you, Ceil," he whispered as the music died.
She drove off, and Gus didn't show up, so Jack assumed Ceil was meeting her husband for dinner or a party. He debated whether or not to pack it in and call it an early night, or hang on and wait.
Jack chose waiting. He'd leave after seeing them safely to bed.
Waiting. This was always the lousy part. It could be put to good use. A perfect time for deep cogitationor ratiocination, as Sherlock Holmes would saybut he was tired of thinking about Melanie and Olive and the SESOUPers. His brain needed a rest.
Jack had trained himself to fall into a light sleep under almost any circumstances. Now was an excellent time for a catnap. Normally he'd adjust his gym bag under him, lean back, and close his eyes. But not tonight. No snoozing in the dark tonight.
21
Miles Kenway sat behind his steering wheel and wondered where the hell he was. Somewhere in Queens, according to his map, but exactly where, he couldn't say.
He'd started out following this Jack Shelby character and had wound up out here.
Jack Shelby ... not likely. Miles didn't know who the man was, but he wasn't Jack Shelby.
One thing he did know for sure about the mystery man was that he was some sort of pervert.
And that irked Miles no end. He'd followed this character all the way out here thinking he was going to meet with whoever had sent him. And when Miles saw him creep into the shrubbery of a home down the street, that was exactly what it looked like he was doing. But then Miles sneaked around the other side for a look and found him watching some woman dance around inside her house.
The man was a goddamn Peeping Tom.
Miles would have been long gone by now if the background check he'd run had come up clean. But it hadn't.
Miles had pocketed the man's beer bottle from last night's reception and called his man in the FBI. Working quickly, he'd reported that three good sets had been retrieved from the bottle: one belonged to Lewis Ehler, one to the bartender, and the third set was not on record.
That could be a good thing, meaning Jack Shelby had never been arrested, never applied for a gun permit, never worked in any security-sensitive jobs. It could also mean that he was a member of either a government agency or a secret organization powerful enough to have his print set removed from the FBI's computers.
Miles became convinced it was the latter when a check revealed that no one named Jack Shelby lived at the address he'd given when he registered.
So who are you, Shelby, and who are you working for? Whoever you are, you've made a big mistake getting on the wrong side of me. I can and will make your life miserable.
Miles reflected on how far he had come since his birth. Who'd have dreamed that a callow South Dakota farm boy would end up on the country's first line of defense against the New World Order. Now it seemed almost providential that he had joined the Army out of high school, worked his way up in the ranks, and had been in the right places at the right times to hear whispers about the UN, about NATO, about his own government, and to have the internal fiber and wherewithal to put it all together and realize that not everything was quite what it seemed.
When he'd learned the truth, he immediately resigned. He had almost forty years in, so he took his pension, withdrew all his savings, and bought a fifty-acre parcel in Montana where he gathered others who knew the truth. There they lived and trained for the day when the One Worlders would try to take over America.
He dreaded that day, but he'd be ready for itready to fight to the death to protect his freedom.
Miles yawned. He hadn't slept well last night. He'd had a dream about that day of invasion, when the New World Order's black helicopters peppered the sky as they came for him and his militia. He shuddered at the memory. He often had nightmares, but this one had been his worst ever. He'd awakened at four-thirty shaking and sweating.
He shook himself to wakefulness. Had to stay alert and wait to see where this so-called Jack Shelby character went from here.
22
The sound of a car turning into the driveway alerted Jack. He straightened, stretched, and crossed the backyard in a hurried crouch, slipping into the foundation shrubbery around the garage. The automatic door rolled up and the car eased into the garage. Jack recognized Gus's voice as the car doors opened.
" ... just wish you hadn't said that, Ceil. It made me look real bad in front of Dave and Nancy."
"But no one took it the way you did," Ceil said.
Jack thought he detected a slight quaver in her voice. Too many vodkas? Or fear?
"Don't be so sure about that. I think they're just too good-mannered to show it, but I saw the shock in Nancy's eyes. Didn't you see the way she looked at me when you said that?"
"No. I didn't see anything of the sort. You're imagining things again."
"Oh, am I?"
Jack heard the jangle of keys in the lock in the door to the house.
"Y-yes. And besides, I've already apologized a dozen times since we left. What more do you want from me?"
"What I want, Ceil, is that it not keep happening like it does. Is that too much to ask?"
Ceil's reply was cut off as the garage door began to roll down. Jack returned to the rear of the house where he could get a view of most of the first floor. Their voices leaked out through an open casement window as Gus strode into the kitchen.
" ... don't know why you keep doing this to me, Ceil. I try to be good, try to keep calm, but you keep testing me, pushing me to the limit again and again."
Ceil's voice came from the hall, overtly anxious now.
"But I told you, Gus. You're the only one who took it that way."
Jack watched Gus pull an insulated pot-holder mitten over his left hand, then wrap a dish towel around his right.
"Fine, Ceil. If that's what you want to believe, I guess you'll go on believing it. But unfortunately, that won't change what happened tonight."
Ceil came into the kitchen.
"But Gus"
Her voice choked off as he turned toward her and she saw his hands.
"Why'd you do it, Ceil?"
"Oh, Gus, no! Please! I didn't mean it!"
She turned to run but he caught her upper arm and yanked her toward him.
"You should have kept your damn mouth shut, Ceil. I try so hard and then you go and get me mad."
He saw Gus take Ceil's wrist in his mittened hand and twist her arm behind her back, twist it up hard and high. She cried out in pain.