“Now we’ve got people like Rocco Biolchini,” Nate said. “Who just wants to get revenge on his business partner.”
“Exactly,” Templeton said, his eyes suddenly moist. Nate was surprised by the honest emotion. “Exactly, Nate. In the past I wouldn’t have even invited him here. But now I’m weighing the payoff over the justification of the assignment. I used to take only jobs when I knew we were the only people professional and thorough enough to get to a bad guy who was above the law because of his wealth or connections, and leave no trace. It is a righteous line of work. We right wrongs and make the world a better place. We take out the most expensive garbage. I firmly believe that.”
“So do I,” Nate said. “At least I used to.”
“It can be like that again,” Templeton said wistfully.
Nate repeated, “Go out and do some good.”
Templeton smiled sadly. “That’s what it was all about. After all, even the president has his kill list. We’re private sector, and the private sector is always better at everything than the politicians. But I never thought it would come to this…” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the lodge and the guests inside. “They’re all leeches who could turn on me any minute. If there were any way I could do this all again, well, I’d do it differently.”
“So what’s the latest problem?” Nate asked.
Templeton shot out his sleeve and looked at his wristwatch. “We have to get back inside — we’re keeping everyone waiting. And if we don’t eat, they’ll drink even more and I’ll have to blast them out of here with TNT.”
Templeton opened the door and held it so Nate could join him. The din of conversations coming from inside were even more out of control than before. “I know this isn’t your idea of fun.”
“It isn’t.”
“Stick it out for me, please. We need to listen to Mr. Biolchini’s proposal after the guests clear out and make a decision — without Whip — whether we’ll take the assignment based on how much he’ll compensate us. I’ll do that part of the negotiation — so you’ll be free to go.”
His plea was almost childlike, and Nate was taken by it.
As Nate passed through, Templeton threw an arm around his shoulder to guide him back toward the dining room.
“Thank you, Nate.”
“So about the local problem?”
Templeton sighed again. “Nothing momentous. Those idiots Gene Smith and Bill Critchfield got tangled up with a game warden who is new to the area. It’s their fault — they think they’re above having to pay attention to the game laws around here and they invite this kind of trouble by being stupid. They are a couple of local thugs I decided to bring inside the operation so they’d work for me instead of against me, but it hasn’t really worked out. It was a miscalculation. Thugs are thugs, just like zebras can never be horses.”
“A game warden?” Nate asked, his throat dry.
“Yes. I met him the other day and he didn’t seem particularly sharp. Certainly not clever enough to be the kind of danger to me those fools seem to think he is. But the situation escalated, and now they desperately needed to locate him. Unlike what we do, it’s a clusterfuck out there, with no one knowing who is where or what’s going on. This game warden seems to have stymied them. They came and asked for my help finding this man and eliminating the problem. They’re pretty sure they know where he is: some remote cabin twenty miles from here.”
Nate felt something cold inside that seemed to spread to his extremities and harden them, like a protective suit of armor.
“So I sent Whip to be there and make sure they didn’t screw things up again. One of our trusted locals is with this game warden, but so is his daughter. I don’t want the local or his daughter harmed or compromised. Whip said he’d see to it, and he seemed eager for the job, although he hates working with others. Apparently, Whip had an encounter with this game warden that didn’t set well with him at all, so he jumped at the opportunity to settle the score. I hate to mix our business with local affairs, but this time I didn’t see where I had a choice in the matter.”
Nate didn’t respond. The light in the room seemed to have gotten much brighter than it was when he’d left it. The conversations, if possible, seemed even louder.
“Missy overheard some of it and agreed with my decision,” Templeton said. “‘Best to nip this in the bud,’ she said.”
Nate sat down to his steak and ignored the imploring look Liv gave him from across the table.
He felt himself being transformed from within. At one point, he looked up to find Liv staring at him. She looked terrified.
Yarak.
It took a long hour for the locals to finish their steaks and desserts and clear out. Liv had to practically hoist several men and women from their chairs and point them toward the door, where ranch staff held out their coats to reclaim.
Missy had left as well, saying she was still tired from jet lag and that she’d meet Templeton in their room soon. To Nate, she said, “It was wonderful to see you again.”
Nate was grateful when he saw Liv walk away with Missy toward the stairs.
The sheriff, judge, and chief of police remained at the table to Nate’s right. Biolchini was directly across the table, lighting a Cuban cigar.
And Templeton sat at the head, glaring at Mead, obviously wishing for the sheriff to go and take the other two with him. Mead didn’t get the message, it seemed. Nate guessed that Templeton had to deal with the three law enforcement officials with kid gloves and couldn’t simply pry them out of their chairs as Liv had with the other locals.
Judge Bartholomew got the message, though, and said to Mead, “R.C., I think it’s time to call it an evening.”
“After I finish my drink,” Mead said. He slurred his words.
Templeton smoldered for a moment, then said to Nate, “I’ll go get my notebook for our meeting with Mr. Biolchini.” He said it in a way that it was clear he expected the three locals to be gone when he returned.
A moment later, Mead turned to Nate and said, “Hey — quit prodding me with your finger.”
Nate said, “It’s not my finger.”
Mead’s eyes got wide when he looked down and saw the muzzle of the .500 pressed into his ribs. Nate had retrieved it earlier from the brush outside the lodge. Mead’s sudden silence caught the attention of the judge and Miller, who turned to see what was going on.
Nate said, “If I pull this trigger, the slug will go through all three of you. I’ve dropped two men with one shot before, so this would be a personal best.”
Biolchini couldn’t see the handgun under the table on the other side. He said, “What is happening here?”
Nate ignored him. To the three men sitting side by side next to him, he said, “Ease your weapons out and put them on the table in front of you. Then slowly stand up and back against the wall.”
“Please,” Mead whispered to Bartholomew and the police chief. “He’s not kidding.”
“Slowly,” Nate said.
The semiautomatic service weapons of the sheriff and chief clunked on the white tablecloth, and their hands withdrew from them quickly. Nate was mildly surprised to see the judge surrender a snub-nosed .38 as well.
“Now stand and back up.”
“What the fuck!” Biolchini said loudly. “Does everybody here pack heat?”
Nate shushed him without looking over. He kept his weapon leveled at the three men, who were doing what they’d been told. It was oddly silent in the room.
“You too,” Nate said to Biolchini. “Up against the wall with them.”