"He beat it, and you said no business till after dinner. Didn't seem all that important, anyway. He even as much as asked me to let you know he'd been inquiring about you."
"What, specifically, did he want to know?"
"Whether you could deliver an unencumbered computer property and keep the investors out of court, was what I gathered."
He slapped the wheel. "This makes no sense at all," he said. "It really doesn't."
"It occurs to me that he might have been hired to investigate a bit-or even just to shake you up some and keep you honest-by the people you've been sounding out to invest in this thing."
"Merle, do you think I'm so damn stupid I'd waste a lot of time digging up investors before I was even sure there was something to put the money into? I haven't talked to anybody about this except you, and I guess I won't be now either. Who do you think he could have been? What did he want?"
I shook my head, but I was remembering those words in Thari.
Why not?
"He also asked me whether I'd ever heard you refer to a place called Amber."
He was looking in the rearview mirror when I said it, and he jerked the wheel to catch a sudden curve. "Amber? You're kidding."
"No."
"Strange. It has to be a coincidence-"
"What?"
"I did hear a reference to a kind of dreamland place called Amber, last week. But I never mentioned it to anybody. It was just drunken babbling."
"Who? Who said it?"
"A painter I know. A real nut, but a very talented guy. Name's Melman. I like his work a lot, and I've bought several of his paintings. I'd stopped by to see whether he had anything new this last time I was in town. He didn't, but I stayed pretty late at his place anyway, talking and drinking and smoking some stuff he had. He got pretty high after a while and he started talking about magic. Not card tricks, I mean. Ritual stuff, you know?"
"Yes."
"Well, after a time he started doing some of it. If it weren't that I was kind of stoned myself I'd swear that it worked-that he levitated, summoned sheets of fire, conjured and banished a number of monsters. There had to've been acid in something he gave me. But damn! It sure seemed real."
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway," he went on, "he mentioned a sort of archetypal city. I couldn't tell whether it sounded more like Sodom and Gomorrah or Camelot-all the adjectives he used. He called the place Amber, and said that it was run by a half mad family, with the city itself peopled by their bastards and folks whose ancestors they'd brought in from other places ages ago. Shadows of the family and the city supposedly figure in most major legends and such whatever that means. I could never be sure whether he was talking in metaphor, which he did a lot, or just what the hell he meant. But that's where I heard the place mentioned."
"Interesting," I said. "Melman is dead. His place burned down a few days ago."
"No, I didn't know." He glanced into the mirror again. "Did you know him?"
"I met him-after you left this last time. Kinsky told me Julia'd been seeing him, and I looked the guy up to see what he could tell me about her. You see-well, Julia's dead."
"How'd it happen? I just saw her last week."
"In a very bizarre fashion. She was killed by a strange animal."
"Lord!" He braked suddenly and pulled off the road onto a wide shoulder to the left. It looked upon a steep, tree-filled drop. Above the trees I could see the tiny lights of the city across a great distance.
He killed the engine and the headlights . He took a Durham's bag from his pocket and began rolling a cigarette. I caught him glancing upward and ahead.
"You've been checking that mirror a lot."
"Yes," he replied. "I was just about sure a car had been following us all the way from the parking lot down at the Hilton. It was a few turns behind us for the longest while. Now it seems to have disappeared."
He lit his cigarette and opened the door. "Let's get some air."
I followed him and we stood for a few moments staring out across the big spaces, the moonlight strong enough to cast the shadows of some trees near to us. He threw down the cigarette and stamped on it.
"Shit!" he said. "'This is getting too involved! I knew Julia was seeing Melman, okay? I went to see her the night after I'd seen him, okay? I even delivered a small parcel he'd asked me to take her, okay?"
"Cards," I said. He nodded.
I withdrew them from my pocket and held them toward him. He barely glanced at them there in the dim light, but he nodded again.
"Those cards," he said. Then: "You still liked her, didn't you?"
"Yes, I guess I did."
"Oh, hell," he sighed. "All right. There are some things I'm going to have to tell you, old buddy. Not all of them nice. Give me just a minute to sort it all out. You've just given me one big problem-or I've given it to myself, because I've just decided something."
He kicked a patch of gravel and the stones rattled down the hillside.
"Okay," he said. "First, give me those cards."
"Why?"
"I'm going to tear them into confetti."
"The hell you are. Why?"
"They're dangerous."
"I already know that. I'll hang onto them."
"You don't understand."
"So explain."
"It's not that easy. I have to decide what to tell you and what not to."
"Why not just tell me everything?"
"I can't. Believe me-"
I hit the ground as soon as I heard the first shot, which ricocheted off a boulder to our right. Luke didn't. He began running in a zigzag pattern toward a cluster of trees off to our left, from which two more shots were fired. He had something in his hand and he raised it.
Luke fired three times. Our assailant got off one more round. After Luke's second shot I heard someone gasp. I was on my feet by then and running toward him, a rock in my hand. After his third shot I heard a body fall.
I reached him just as he was turning the body over, in time to see what seemed a faint cloud of blue or gray mist emerge from the man's mouth past his chipped tooth and drift away.
"What the hell was that?" Luke asked as it blew away.
"You saw it, too? I don't know."
He looked down at the limp form with the dark spot growing larger on its shirtfront, a 38' revolver still clutched in the right hand.
"I didn't know you carried a gun," I said.
"When you're on the road as much as I am, you go heeled," he answered.
"I pick up a new one in each city I hit and sell it when I leave. Airline security. Guess I won't be selling this one. I never saw this guy, Merle. You?"
I nodded.
"That's Dan Martinez, the man I was telling you about."
"Oh, boy," he said. "Another damn complication. Maybe I should just join a Zen monastery someplace and persuade myself it doesn't matter. I-"
Suddenly, he raised his left fingertips to his forehead. "Oh-oh," he said then. "Merle, the keys are in the ignition. Get in the car and drive back to the hotel right away. Leave me here. Hurry!"
"What's going on? What-"
He raised his weapon, a snub-nosed automatic, and pointed it at me.
"Now! Shut up and go!"
"But-"
He lowered the muzzle and put a bullet into the ground between my feet.
Then he aimed it squarely at my abdomen. "Merlin, son of Corwin," he said through clenched teeth, "if you don't start running right now you're a dead man!" I followed his advice, raising a shower of gravel and laying some streaks of rubber coming out of the U-turn I spun the wagon through. I roared down the hill and skidded around the curve to my right. I braked for the next one to my left. Then I slowed.