She pulls out the chain a little, then it slides of its own weight to the ground. John steps away as Valerie uses both hands to pull open the gate. It creaks unmercifully, a long, shrill protest.
"Been a while," she says. "After you."
The sunlight gives way to a partial darkness as John moves into the cool of the cave. He remembers the way the ceiling is low at first so you have to crouch a little, then opens up maybe twenty yards further down to the big cavern with a high ceiling, the smooth dirt floor and at the far end the opening in the rock where the spring bubbles forth in its aromatic, mineral-heavy steam. He remembers that the size of the opening is just big enough to climb into if you want to sit in the hot water, and the rock ledge around the opening is a good place to sit. He can smell the clean, fecund odor of fresh water pooling up from the earth. He remembers that once your eyes adjust in the cavern you can see just well enough to keep from banging into the walls or tripping on the rock ledges surrounding the spring.
"Want to crank up the lantern?" he asks, turning.
"Let's wait until we're in, okay?" Valerie has her hat on. In this minor half-light-just as in the glare of the sun-he finds her absolutely beautiful.
He senses the ceiling rising as he steps into the big cavern. He can't see the top but the echoes of their footsteps have extended resonance. He can make out the pale draft of steam rising from the pool at the far end of the vault. He feels Valerie's body press up against his side, the brim of her hat nudging his neck.
"Let there be light," she whispers.
John sets down the basket. He steps to the other side of it kneels, lifts the lid. He looks up at her from across the basket beholding her form in the faint light that has followed her in from the cave mouth behind her. He looks up at her face but he can't see much except for the shine of her eyes. He gets out the lantern and turns the electronic ignition switch, hearing the click-click of the spark and the quiet hiss of the gas coming into the mantles.
"Thank you," he says. "For what you gave me back there.'
"You're really very welcome."
"I feel more than welcome. I feel honored and blessed."
"So do I, John."
He smiles.
In the growing light he sees that she is smiling, too. She has knelt to face him across the picnic basket, her expression revealed by the whitening glow from the lantern that rests on top of it.
"You're beautiful," he says.
"You're just flattering me now."
She turns her back to him and John unbuttons the dress. She drops the top and steps out of it in a motion of pure femininity then walks to the bubbling pool in the rock. He watches her kneel and work the water into the material.
"I knew you'd come here," she says.
"How could you know, when I didn't?"
"From a dream."
"Tell me about it."
"No," she says quietly, looking over her shoulder at him. "We're only as interesting as our secrets."
When they leave the cave the Santa Ana winds have just begun to blow again. They move greatly against John's face as he leads Valerie into the formidable sunlight. John notes the high desert smell, the dryness of the breeze, the clean outlines of the hillsides against the sky. He has Valerie by the hand. Time passing by, he thinks, the future marching backwards to meet us.
Back at the cottage, John has an e-mail asking him to call Adam Sexton. He e-mails back that he can't-no phone handy. A few moments later, Sexton's reply appears on his screen:
SENSE CHANGES IN VANN. PURELY A HUNCH. IF YOUR NOSE IS TO THE WIND, PICKING THINGS UP, WOULD MUCH LIKE TO COMPARE NOTES. ANY LITTLE BIT HELPS. VAL LIKES YOU. LUCKY GUY A. SEX
That night, late, Holt summons John to the Big House. John crosses the meadow in the building wind, his dogs bouncing out ahead of him, hunting birds in the moonlight.
He waits for his host in the living room, looking into the red-orange glow of the fire. When Holt finally comes down he has got a tumbler full of ice and Scotch in each hand. He gives one to John but says nothing, simply motions with his head and leads John down into the basement, the Trophy Room.
When the lights go on, John acts surprised by the wildlife dioramas around him. Even this, his second viewing, fills him with awe, almost a child's sense of wonder. Animals from all over the world-the biggest, the best and the most beautiful. Animals he could never even identify.
"I've never seen anything like this, Mr. Holt."
"You won't. Half of them are illegal to take anymore."
Holt guides him. He tells him about the hunts, the circumstances, the weather, the guides, the shots. He seems most proud of the Kodiak bear. It towers above them, ten feet tall, at least, with a gleam in its eyes that is utterly convincing.
"Biggest flesh eater on land," Holt says. "Fifteen hundred forty-seven pounds. Took me three weeks on the island to find this one. Another three days to get a shot at him. Thought I was going to lose some toes to frostbite. Didn't care. One shot knocked him ass-over-teakettle. Broke the backbone, clean. Should have heard him. Kind of sound that stays in your dreams for years."
Holt leads the tour. Asia. India. North America. Africa. Central America.
"Talked to Baum?"
"She said Sunday noon would be her best time. Day after tomorrow. Does that fit your schedule?"
Holt ignores John's question, as he often does. Instead of answering he takes a slow drink of his Scotch and continues his tour through the exhibits.
"Where will she meet you?" he asks.
"Newport Harbor Art Museum. She's going to a fundraiser that starts at one o'clock. She said she'd fit me in before."
"Can you get her here with minimal drama?"
"I thought I'd meet her in the parking lot, when she's heading in. It's a good-sized lot, off to the side of the building. I've been there."
Holt nods, perhaps pleased that John has given this errand some forethought. He looks up at the bull elephant, then moves toward Australia. John remains beside him. He notes that Holt's brow furrows briefly then relaxes, as if some problem has been raised and solved.
"Good, John. When you come back in with her, the guard at the gate will wave you through. You won't have to stop. Don't stop at the Big House, either. Just head up past the groves into the hills. Bring her to Top of the World. I'll be there."
"Why Top of the World?"
They arrive back on Kodiak Island. Holt looks up at the bear. "We'll have lunch there, Baum and I. Plan on joining us Great view of everything. Nice place to talk. Don't you think?"
What John thinks is: a nice place to off someone. No one around to see or hear.
"It's perfect for that."
Holt finishes his drink, still examining the towering bear "Lane took off the right inside handle of your truck door. If she gets antsy once you two are on the road, too bad."
"Thank you. I gave some thought to her appointment calendar, though. I mean, she probably wrote me in somewhere. It's possible she'll tell her husband or her bosses she's meeting me before the function."
"Don't worry about that-you didn't get to the museum after all. Truck crapped out, starter. You've got me for an alibi. Lane, too. And Val. Getting her here is the important thing. Nobody's going to look for you here because nobody knows where you are."
"That's what I came up with."
Will he kill me when he's done with Baum?, John thinks. Half of him feels gratitude that he and Baum will be miles away from Top of the World when Joshua and his Federales take down Holt. The other half of him wishes he could be there to see it, to see this animal face his hunter.
"So, do I tell her we're coming to see you?"
"I wouldn't. But tell her anything you want. Just get her here."
"Consider it done."
Holt turns and stares at John with his cool gray eyes. A little smile creeps to his mouth. "You're a good man."