"I'm watching it now," Cavanaugh said. "Nicely done."
"That's high praise, Aaron, considering that you don't believe anybody can do anything better than you."
"I always admitted you made knives better, and you're certainly a better swimmer."
"Gosh, all these compliments are going to my head."
"Turn yourself in, Carl."
"Right."
"You can't hide forever."
"I can give it a try. That abortion-clinic bomber lasted five years in the woods."
"Freezing his ass in the winter. Living off acorns and lizards in the summer."
"Yeah, good buddy, but he wasn't trained the way you and I were."
"I'm serious. Turn yourself in, Carl. I can arrange for you to do it safely."
"Golly. I appreciate your concern."
"You can bargain with the authorities. Give them information about the bastards who hired you. Negotiate for a bearable prison sentence."
"Don't I wish. See, the problem is, I don't have anything to reveal. I dealt with one guy. He told me nothing about his organization. I don't even know what his real name was."
"Was?"
"He's dead. An unfortunate plane explosion. Aaron, don't bullshit me. We both know, if I turn myself in, the government'll go for the death penalty. A thousand people are dead, for God's sake. The government'll snuff me the way it did that guy who blew up the federal building in Oklahoma City. I don't like that option a whole lot. My only chance is to play the game."
"Game?"
Chapter 17.
Carl lied. He wasn't anywhere near Chicago. His newly acquired motorcycle had taken him two-hundred-and-fifty miles west, where he now sat on a picnic bench, watching a shallow creek meander through autumn-brilliant trees while he spoke to the phone.
"The game, Aaron. That's all there is. That's all there ever was." A chill wind bit into him. "So here's the deal. I'm offering you one last chance to play. Tomorrow night. The usual place. But if you don't show up or you bring help, you'll piss me off even more than you already have. If you betray me again, I'll come to you , but the next time, you won't get fair warning. It'd be nice to meet your lovely wife."
Through the phone, Carl heard a noise as if a hand slammed a table.
" Now you're threatening my wife? " Aaron shouted. "You cocksucker!"
"That's the spirit, Aaron."
Carl broke the connection.
Chapter 18.
Hearing the dead air, Cavanaugh slowly lowered the phone and deactivated its speaker function. His heart pounded with rage. Gradually, he became aware of Jamie and William staring at him.
"'One last chance to play. Tomorrow night. The usual place'," Jamie said. "He's challenging you to a fight."
"Sounds like it."
"One on one."
"That seems to be the idea."
"Do you know the place he means?" William asked.
Cavanaugh thought for a moment. "Yes, I believe I do."
"Where?"
Cavanaugh didn't answer.
"You're not seriously thinking about accepting the challenge," Jamie wanted to know.
"I hate him so much. Everything he's done to us. You have no idea how much I'd like to."
"But," Jamie said, "you won't."
"You heard him. He's giving me a chance at him. If I don't take it, his target will be you ."
"Not if you phone Mosely and Rutherford and tell them about this," William said. "It'll go a long way toward getting the FBI on your side again. They'll order the place--wherever it is--surrounded. A SWAT team will take care of this."
"But what if they can't . The place I think Carl means, there are too many ways for him to see if I betrayed him and brought help. Too many ways to escape. I'm willing to bet my life, but not Jamie's."
"Don't I have something to say about that? What if he wins?"
"Then he'll leave you alone. But he isn't going to win."
"Did he ever win before?"
"When we were kids."
"Well, you're not kids any longer! If the FBI doesn't get him, we'll deal with the consequences together. But I won't let you use me as an excuse to satisfy your hate and possibly get yourself killed."
Cavanaugh studied her.
"William," he finally said. "I assume it's easier for you to negotiate in person than on the phone."
"That's correct."
"Then arrange a meeting with Mosely and John as soon as possible." Cavanaugh picked up the phone and made a call of his own. When a voice answered, he said, "Get the Gulfstream ready to fly in an hour. . . . Selling it? Not just yet."
Chapter 19.
"I'm amazed," Mosely said. The lights of Washington's Capitol Building gleamed beyond his office window. "Shocked, in fact. You're actually following proper procedure instead of showing everybody what a hotshot you are."