"Anyway, back to Adrian's office, he told me that he was involved and promptly thereafter, I was ambushed and taken to the Landfill where Mr. Adrian had asked his men to, and I quote 'Leave him, piece by piece in the Landfill.' Now, I'm completely aware of the power a man like Mr. Adrian wields, and the negative result charges against him would get me; but I had to tell someone. Authority was my first choice.
"If because of lack of evidence you can't prosecute Adrian for the murder at the Morocco, I am willing to charge him with my attempted murder. I can take you to the scene anytime you're willing. It's an Authority Internment Facility. I suggest the sooner, the better for both. The evidence will be fresh, and the bodies might not have crawled too far off. There were three: two living, killed by their accomplice, and the accomplice, a dead man I was forced to shoot it out with."
"And Van Reydner?" Cane's face was inscrutable.
"Gone, for the moment." I lit another cigarette. "I have the feeling she is gone for good. The fact that Adrian didn't know where she was tells me she might have double-crossed him. He had no reason to lie. He thought I was a dead man-landfill."
"Leave it with me, Wildclown." Cane walked to the window, peered out through the blinds. "It's not what I'd call an iron-clad case. Christ, all you have is a cigar butt for physical evidence. I'd think long and hard before you charge Mr. Adrian with anything. He's connected. Everything else you've told me is circumstantial and hearsay. And I'll bet that whatever happened at the Internment Facility will be nicely cleaned up when we arrive. Keep everything between you and me. What was the location of the internment center?" He took out a notebook. I told him where: he wrote it down. He grinned around his toothpick. "If this is the best you can do, get out of the business, Wildclown."
I ignored his sally, then climbed to my feet. "I've got to tell my client. He'll want to know." I was still a little leery. I had no reason to trust Cane. Who paid for his vacations? Also, with Conrad Billings aware, he might be able to use his talents as a lawyer to put the right amount of pressure on the right people. Hell, he might know a judge or two. I definitely needed more power working for me.
Cane stared at me for a moment. "Just a matter of money, eh?" His sneer was unmistakable.
"I told you I'd press charges." I stared back, then shrugged. "I've got to eat. Besides, he's the only reason I know about any of this in the first place. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is anger a man with power. I mind my own business."
"Okay, tell your client. But leave Adrian and Van Reydner to me. If I'm going to make these charges stick, I don't need you poking your silly face into things."
"Of course," I said, smiling.
Cane started for the door, then stopped. "Oh, Wildclown. This doesn't have anything to do with that stupid baby case. I guess you were just clusterfucking us around before."
"It's related," I said, mainly for a reaction. What should he care?
Cane's face was grim. "Hell of a thing to joke about."
"By the way," I rose from my chair. My head throbbed ever so slightly. "Who's Inspector Borden?"
Cane's face turned uglier for a second then went blank. "Why?"
"My client said Borden gave him my name."
"Did he say any more? Just Borden?" I couldn't read the look that played about his toad features.
"Just Borden," I said absently, intent upon Cane.
"Then your client has hearing problems. I never heard of a Borden. And I've been in Authority for forty years."
He adjusted his hat, licked his lips and left.
I walked to the blinds and peered out. Cane's hunched form climbed into an armored Authority transport that waited. "More's the pity," I whispered.
I walked out to the waiting room and met Elmo coming in. "Elmo, I've got to make another call; but I think you'd better pack. It might be wise for us to take a trip for a few days-to keep out of Adrian's way. He may still want to settle with me, and I don't trust Cane."
Elmo nodded like a good partner. He didn't know what I was talking about but he nodded anyway. I had to get out of town before I gave Tommy his body back. I stretched. Damn it. If only I had Van Reydner.
Chapter 20
Billings took it all pretty well. I mean the fact that he was going to have to eat his vengeance-for the moment. He assured me he would do his level best to see that Adrian came to trial for his, as Billings put it, "Crimes against Humanity!" I had to wish him luck. He would need it. Cane had contacted me once more before Elmo and I left for a vacation. He told me Adrian was missing. I told Cane that Adrian might have been a lot of bluff. After all, when he realized I was still alive and talking, Adrian might have put together an ugly picture of himself in the hands of a dead lynch mob-rather an unpleasant possibility for a man of refinement. Cane said Authority was trying to get access to his records. He might have been responsible for thousands of new clients. There was no telling how long he and Van Reydner had worked together. Cane ordered me to keep out of sight for a while, but to expect a questioning. Billings paid me exactly what he owed me-no bonus-and wished me luck. I needed luck. So did Elmo. So did a woman named Jan Van Reydner who had become a recurring dream to me.
Part Two: A Witching Time of Night
Chapter 21
I was at the office. Elmo sat motionless across from me looking like he was painted on black velvet. I was tempted to shout or something, to lever him out of his trance. I had finished my umpteenth cigarette. So had Elmo. The air around us resembled a heavy Scottish mist. I resisted the urge to walk to the window and open it to replace the sour air within with the sour air without. Then, with extreme ease, I sank back into my own malaise. I was into the habit now of possessing Tommy every day, rain or rain, just to keep in practice. We hadn't had a case in weeks.
After the Billings' murder, Elmo and I drove west, and we didn't stop until we reached a lonely motel set on a stark hump of granite. We had started without a destination in mind, the motel simply appeared to us out of the rain. It was a nice little place lost in a twilight zone of decor-fake tiger skin couches and plastic dome lamps. A fat landlady would keep us honest. I had passed over the possibility of a trip to Vicetown because so many gangsters and outlaws called it home. All those casinos were like magnets to gunmetal. If Adrian were going to hire a hit man he would do it from there. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I would be a well-marked target with the clown makeup.
Instead, Elmo and I visited the Bonny-Vu Motel about eight hours west of Greasetown. The name must have come from the Old World before the Change, because the view was anything but bonny. The motel overlooked a waste disposal dump. Mrs. Loxley, the landlady, explained with chubby vociferation, that the dump was new. There used to be a lovely lake for fishing, she said, canoe rides and everything. The woman was obviously upset about the turning tide, but you could tell by her earnest eyes and perpetual blush of embarrassed self-assertion, that she would do her best with what the good lord had given her.