“Problem?” Decker asked him.
“It’s gonna cost about forty bucks.”
“That’s all right.”
“Okay, then.”
The driver pulled out onto the road, twisting through the rain-slicked streets of the main shopping district. Water was pouring off the awnings, rushing down the curbsides into the storm drains. Not a soul on the sidewalks, everything gray and deserted. Within minutes, Quinton was a dot in the distance. The cab was creeping down a two-lane highway sided by woodland foliage-heaping piles of naked brush, dripping pines and firs, and copses of leafless trees. Wipers, going full speed, were throwing water off the windshield as fast as the rain was dousing it. Decker felt his eyes closing, only to be yanked open at the sound of the cabbie’s voice.
“You going shopping or somethin’?”
“No. Why?”
“The address is a mall. I figured you was goin’ shopping.”
“No.”
A few moments passed.
“Tattlers?” the driver suggested.
Decker was annoyed, but an inner voice stopped him from shutting the kid down. He looked at the cab’s license. The driver’s name was A. Plunkett. “Why? What’s it to you?”
Plunkett scratched his nose. “Just that… for the forty bucks you’re gonna pay me for transportation… I can do better than Tattlers for you. Know what I’m sayin’?”
Decker knew what he was sayin’.
Plunkett sniffed and looked in the rearview mirror. “You know the girls who work there… at Tattlers… some of ’em like places where there’s a little more privacy.”
Even better, Decker thought. Get them alone and who knows what they’ll admit to. He counted to twenty. “And you know a place like that?”
“Sure, I know all the good spots.”
“Local girls, Plunkett?”
The kid stiffened at the sound of his name. “Is that a problem? Someone local?”
“I wouldn’t want things getting around.”
“But you’re not from around here.”
“I have friends in Quinton. You can’t be too careful.”
“What kind of friends?” Plunkett asked.
“Now, I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”
No one spoke.
Then the driver said, “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
Decker thought a moment. “So it’s forty to you and then I fork out for whatever else I want, right?”
“A quick learner.”
“Round trip?”
“Make it fifty and you got a deal.”
Decker took out a fifty-dollar bill and held it so it was visible in the rearview mirror. “So… what would I get over there for… let’s say a hundred?”
“What do you expect for a hundred?”
The kid was clever, waiting for Decker to speak first. “I’d like something nice.”
“For a hundred, I could find you something very nice.”
He drove a few more minutes, then took a turnoff, the cab bouncing through the hillside as thunder cracked through the air and lightning webbed across the sky. Nothing around except shivering woodland as fierce winds shot through the empty branches. The taxi continued its journey, going deep into the forest. Five minutes later, it started to slow, and Decker saw it-a three-story white clapboard house, complete with tar roof and peeling paint.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Decker said. “This looks pretty seedy. I got a wife. I can’t afford to risk anything.”
The cabbie was vexed. “Whatddaya mean? You gettin’ cold feet? Cause I don’t need this shit-”
“I mean, Plunkett, do they take precaution in there? I’m not carrying anything with me.”
“Ah…” Plunkett was relieved. “They got all kinds of protection.” He pulled up alongside the house, missing a tree by inches. He parked. “You wait here. I gotta clear this, okay?”
The driver opened the door, got out, and slammed it shut, leaving Decker in that awful metaphysical silence. Rain slammed onto the vehicle, suddenly blasting it with machine-gun volley. Decker leaned forward and looked out the windshield. Hailstones were streaming from the clouds. Involuntarily, he felt himself sweating, felt his heart beating too rapidly to be considered healthy. It stank inside. It reeked of bacteria and mold. It smelled rotten.
It smelled like a freakin’ setup.
Decker took his umbrella, yanked on the door handle, and got out. He made a dash for the house, trembling under the eaves of a wraparound porch. Hail continued to fall, little perfect balls of ice bouncing on the dead ground.
Thinking about his options. Not too much to think about because he didn’t have many alternatives. He could stay put… or he could run.
Heart going a mile a minute.
Then he remembered his cell phone. Extracting it from his pocket, he pushed the speak button and the satellites sprang up a dial tone-albeit humming with static. Quickly, he dialed Jonathan’s number.
Seconds ticked by.
“C’mon, you son of a bitch, connect!”
Another second passed. Then it started ringing.
“Thank you, God!”
One ring.
“Answer, brother, answer!”
Two rings.
“Hello?”
Never had Jonathan’s voice sounded so good. “Hey, it’s me and I got a big problem.”
“What?” Across the line, crackle threatened to break communication any moment. “Can I call you back, Akiva? The connection’s bad.”
“Don’t hang up!” Decker shouted. “I’m out in no-man’s-land-somewhere up in the hills between Quinton and Bainberry, about ten minutes out of Quinton. As you’re going toward Bainberry, you turn left off onto some barely noticeable turnoff; it’s a side road-”
“Akiva-”
“Shut up and listen, Jonathan. Follow it up and you’ll see a clapboard structure that looks like a broken-down bed and breakfast. If I’m lucky, I’m at a whorehouse. If not, I’m gonna be shot at really soon.”
“Oh my God!”
“Listen! If I don’t call you back in five minutes, come out and look for me. And whatever you do, don’t call the Quinton Police. Call up the State Police, you understand?”
“Akiva-”
“There’s my date. Gotta go.” He clicked off the phone and stored it in his pocket. “Hey, Plunkett! I’m over here!”
The cabbie turned around and came over to him. “Whacha doing out here?”
“I’m claustrophobic.” Decker’s voice shot bullets. “I’m getting pissed. Yes or no?”
“It’s a go,” Plunkett said. “Calm down, all right?”
Decker exhaled. “Sorry. Let’s go.”
The driver extended his hand. “Hey, my job’s done.”
“Wrong.” Decker grabbed him by the collar. “You go in with me. I like introductions.”
And then he heard the click. Something in his primal consciousness must have anticipated it because his autopilot instantly grabbed the offending wrist. In a smooth, sharp twist, Decker wrested the gun away, feeling the grip slip from the cabbie’s into his own hand. Then he nailed him against the wall, pressing the muzzle of the Smith & Wesson.32 snub-nose against the kid’s Adam’s apple.
Decker sneered. “That wasn’t at all polite.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Just what I said… an introduction.”
No one spoke, but the breathing was audible, both of them sputtering out big plumes of frosted air, chugging like an old locomotive.
“Why’d you pull a piece on me?” Decker asked at last.
“Why’d you grab me?” Plunkett retorted.
Slowly, Decker lowered the weapon. “Maybe we just had a gross misunderstanding.”
The driver didn’t answer. He licked his lips. “You’re a cop, right?”
Decker didn’t answer.
“A friend of Merrin’s?”
Within seconds, Decker’s heart was battering his breastbone. “You might say that.”
Instant relief in Plunkett’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? You get a discount with that, you know.”