Angel’s grip tightened on his gun. For this creature to suggest that Jackie’s murder was some kind of blessing was almost too much for him to bear.
‘At least he’d have received a trial,’ said Angel.
‘I tried him. He confessed. You’re speaking of the trappings of legality, and nothing more.’
Louis spoke. He said only one word, but it was both a warning and an imprecation.
‘Angel.’
After a second or two, Angel relaxed.
‘You mentioned us backing off as “part” of the bargain,’ said Louis. ‘What’s the rest?’
‘I know that your search for the ones who did the shooting has brought you into contact with all kinds of interesting individuals. I’m assuming one of those was Cambion.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, when you’d exhausted all other avenues, he would have been the only one left. I doubt that he gave you the answers you needed.’
‘We met him,’ confirmed Louis.
‘And?’
‘He told us that a couple, a man and a woman, carried out the attack. He promised more.’
‘Of course he did. What did he ask in return for the information?’
‘The same thing that you just did: to call off the dogs. But it’s like this – he may be a freak, but he’s a freak who didn’t kill one of our friends. If it comes down to it, I might be more inclined to take my chances with him.’
‘You’d be disappointed. He’s going to feed you to the shooters, you and your boyfriend. They’re potentially more valuable to him than you are. You’ll never do his bidding, but they’ll owe him a favor, and they’re very, very good at what they do.’
And Louis understood that the Collector was right. It simply confirmed what Louis had suspected: there would be more benefits to Cambion in siding with the shooters.
‘Go on.’
‘Here is what I’m offering,’ said the Collector. ‘I give you the names. In return, I want a truce between us, and I want to know where Cambion is. He is long overdue a blade.’
‘And if we don’t agree?’ said Louis ‘What if we just decide to kill you here?’
The gun in his hand moved so that it was aiming at the Collector beneath the table. The first shots would take him in the gut, the last in the back of the head as he fell forward and Louis delivered the coup de grâce from above.
The Collector gestured with his right hand to the chair beside him. On it, unnoticed by Angel and Louis until now, was a green cardboard folder.
‘Open it,’ he said, as he restored his hands to the table.
Louis stood, never taking his eyes off the Collector as he went to retrieve the folder. The two Asian men in the diner moved too, their guns now visible. The Collector remained very still, his gaze fixed on the table top before him. He remained like that as Louis flipped through the file. It contained typewritten sheets, photographs, even transcripts of telephone conversations.
‘It’s your history,’ said the Collector. ‘The story of your life: every killing we could trace, every piece of evidence we could accumulate against you. By good fortune, it was one of a handful of records for which Eldritch retained secure copies. There’s enough in there to have damned you, should I have chosen to take the knife to you. If I don’t walk safely out of here today, Eldritch will ensure that a copy of it goes to the US Attorney for the Southern District of New York, the New York County District Attorney, twelve different police departments throughout the nation, and the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI. It should fill in any annoying gaps in their own research.’
For the first time, the Collector relaxed. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.
‘I told you, I’m tired of the hunt,’ he said. ‘It ends now. I could have used this material alone to force you to relent, but I feel that I have to make recompense for what happened to Mr Garner. I want your promise that the chase is over. I want Cambion. In return, you get vengeance for what happened to the detective.’
Louis and Angel looked at each other. Louis could see that Angel did not want to make a deal with this man, but the file had tipped the scales, and Angel, he knew, would agree to whatever protected Louis. Bringing them closer to those who had carried out the attack on Parker would just have to be considered a bonus.
‘Agreed,’ said Louis.
‘If the detective survives, I’ll take it that your word is a guarantee of his good behavior too,’ said the Collector. ‘Otherwise, our truce is void.’
‘Understood.’
‘The couple for whom you’re looking are named William and Zilla Daund. They live in Asheville, North Carolina. They have two sons, Adrian and Kerr. The sons have no idea about their parents’ sideline in killing.’
‘Who hired them?’
‘You’ll have to ask them.’
‘But you know.’
‘I believe the name Daund comes from the northeast of England: Durham, or possibly Northumberland. I’ll let them fill in any other details themselves. Now, I’d like you to fulfill the second part of our arrangement.’
‘Cambion is in Hunts Lane, over in Brooklyn,’ said Louis, ‘assuming he hasn’t already moved on. He’s holed up in an old apothecary.’
‘Does he have anyone with him?’
‘A big man named Edmund.’
The Collector stood.
‘Then we’re done here,’ he said. ‘I wish you luck in your investigation.’
He buttoned his coat, and stepped around the table.
‘And you can keep the file,’ he told Louis as he passed him. ‘We have more than one copy now.’
They let him go, and he lost himself in the crowds on Lexington.
‘I notice that you didn’t mention the possibility of a third person at Hunts Lane with Cambion and his buddy,’ said Angel.
‘No,’ said Louis. ‘I guess it must have slipped my mind.’
50
I sat at the edge of a lake, on a wooden bench painted white. I was cold, even with a jacket on, and I kept my hands in my pockets to hold the worst of the chill at bay. To my left, at the top of a small hill, was the rehabilitation center, an old nineteenth-century sea captain’s house surrounded by a series of more recently built single-story redbrick buildings. Evergreen trees bounded the lake, and most of the snow had been cleared from the grass. The grounds were quiet.
All was quiet.
A small black stone lay by my feet. It looked incredibly smooth. I wanted to hold it in my hand. I reached down to pick it up, and found that it was flawed beneath. A shard of it had fallen away, leaving the underside jagged and uneven. I stared out at the still expanse of the lake and threw the stone. It hit the water and the surface cracked like ice, even though it was not frozen. The cracks extended away from me and across the lake, then fractured the woods and mountains beyond, until finally the sky itself was shattered by black lightning.
I heard footsteps behind me, and a hand lit upon my shoulder. I saw the wedding ring that it wore. I remembered the ring. I recalled putting it on that finger before a priest. Now one of the nails was broken.
Susan.
‘I knew that it wasn’t real,’ I said.
‘How?’ said my dead wife.
I did not turn to look at her. I was afraid.
‘Because I could not remember how I got here. Because there was no pain.’
And I was speaking of the wounds left by the bullets, and the wounds left by loss.
‘There doesn’t have to be any more pain,’ she said.
‘It’s cold.’
‘It will be, for a time.’
I turned now. I wanted to see her. She was as she had been before the Traveling Man took his knife to her. And yet she was not. She was both more, and less, than she once was.
She wore a summer dress, for she always wore a summer dress in this place. In every glimpse of her that I had caught since losing her she had been wearing the same dress, although at those times I never saw her face. When I did, it was under other circumstances. The dress would be stained with blood, and her features a ruin of red. I had never been able to reconcile the two versions of her.