“How do I get there?”
“You don’t,” she said very severely. “You tell the police and let them do it. This isn’t Rome. This isn’t your investigation.”
“I know that. Tom Black’s no idiot. He won’t give himself up if he sees the police there. He’s scared and he wants to talk. With me for some reason.”
“Nic …”
“If he disappears this time, we may never see him again.”
She swore and gave him an evil look. Then she said, “Get on 101 as if you want to go over the bridge. Just before you do, there’s a turnoff to the right with a parking lot.”
“How public is it?”
“You’re right next to the Golden Gate Bridge. There’ll be traffic.” She hunched her arms around herself. Naked, she seemed smaller somehow, and vulnerable. “But not much if you turn off the road, I guess.”
She took his hand. “Nic — don’t go. Stay here with me. We can drink wine and play chess. Leave this to someone else.”
“Who?”
“Anyone. I don’t care.”
He couldn’t read the expression on her face.
The hot, human scent of sex hung around them, along with that sense of both embarrassment and elation he’d come to recognise when life took a turn like this. Something had changed in a subtle and mysterious way. The barriers were tumbling down, like leaves caught in an autumn storm. A part of him, he knew, wanted to run.
Costa gripped her fingers, then kissed her damp forehead.
“Stay here, Maggie. I’ll call,” he promised.
8
Jimmy Gaines smoked three cigarettes by the redwood tree, none of them quickly. As darkness fell, a waxy yellow half-moon began to emerge above the forest, and the dense wilderness became drowned in a cacophony of new sounds: birds and animals, insects and distant wild calls Frank Boynton couldn’t begin to name. He and his brother watched everything like hawks. More than anything, they sought to measure every breath of the man by the tree. Or perhaps, he reflected, they were simply counting away their own.
Without Gaines noticing, the two had talked together in low tones, about the lay of the land and the limited possibilities ahead of them. Somewhere at their backs they could hear motor vehicles passing through Muir Woods. Not many. This was a deserted part of the forest, and their number had diminished as day turned to night. But there was a road somewhere back there up the slope. Both men were sure of that.
In the opposite direction, downhill, beyond the sequoia trees looming opposite their captor, was, Hank said, a steep, sheer drop, one he’d seen as they arrived. Frank had never noticed. He’d been too worried by that stage to take much notice of anything except Jimmy Gaines. Now, though, thanks to his brother’s acuity, he could tell the drop was there by the way the just-visible foliage faded to nothing in the mid-distance, and from the faint sound of running water somewhere distant and below. There was a creek maybe. It was difficult to tell. Even more difficult as dusk gave way to the pale sheen of the moon, which made the area beneath the high, dense tree cover seem even blacker than before.
Neither man felt at home in the forest. All they had between them were two small flashlights and some vague idea of where the road might be. That would have to be enough. If they could escape Jimmy Gaines and his old black gun, they would head uphill, back towards the Lost Trail, then try to find headlights that might lead them back to the city and civilisation.
If …
Jimmy Gaines threw his last cigarette into the black void ahead of him, where it vanished like a firefly on speed. Then he came tearing towards them, swearing and stomping his big boots on the damp, mossy ground.
“Why can’t you keep your noses out of things that don’t concern you?” the old fireman demanded.
The gun was in his right hand. Hank had cut both their sets of ropes and left them there so Gaines wouldn’t see what had happened. Frank wondered whether that mattered so much. A gun was a gun.
“We’re sorry, Jimmy,” Frank said. “We didn’t know.”
“But you still came looking!”
“Blame me.” Frank nodded at his brother. “Not him. He’s not very bright. Besides, it was always me who got to you. You don’t need to bring Hank into this.”
“Hank, Frank, Tweedledee, Tweedledum …” The gun was getting higher and starting to look more purposeful. “You’re both the same. What business of yours is it, anyway, what Tom and me get up to? He’s a good guy. It was Josh who got him into all this shit. Josh and them.”
“What shit?” Hank asked.
The gun rose and pointed at his head.
“There you go again,” Gaines moaned. “Mouth on overdrive. I suppose you think I might as well tell you now it doesn’t matter. All this movie shit. Those bastards from Hollywood who ate those two kids up and spat them out. They were doing OK when they just stuck to being computer geeks. Somebody would’ve come along and bought the company when the money ran out. They didn’t need to move in those damned circles …”
The weapon wavered.
“It’s got nothing to do with us,” Frank agreed mildly. “Our Italian lady said she could help Tom. That’s all. So we thought maybe …”
Gaines let out a despairing wheeze. “I don’t want to die in jail. I don’t deserve that. I was just looking for a little security when I retired. That and a little companionship.”
“We won’t tell them,” Frank insisted.
“We don’t even know what’s going on, do we?” Hank asked meekly. “We just thought we were doing your friend a favour, Jimmy. Hasn’t he gone to see our nice Italian lady?”
“Never mind where he’s gone. None of your business.”
“I couldn’t agree more there, Jimmy,” Frank said. “But she’s going to think it’s a little odd if Hank and I don’t turn up for our regular coffee tomorrow morning. She’s like us. Inquisitive.”
Gaines moved and a shaft of moonlight caught his face. It was taut, anxious, locked in something close to a snarl.
“As if I don’t know you two. Always the smart-asses. You wouldn’t tell someone what you were doing before you went out and did it. Not if you figured you’d get some brownie points at the end when you turned round and said, ‘Look at us. Look at the Boynton brothers. Look what clever bastards we are.’ ” He bent and leered in Frank’s face. “You didn’t tell her where you were going, did you? Or any of this stuff. Admit it. You were always lousy liars, both of you. Don’t try that on me. I’ve known you too long.”
“We didn’t tell her,” Frank agreed. “All the same … two and two.”
“Screw two and two. If Tom can get a few days free once he’s spoken to the police, that’s all we need. We’ll be gone. They say Laos is nice.” He grimaced. “If that jerk Jonah hadn’t locked up the money so tight, we’d be gone by now anyway.” He laughed, not pleasantly. “I owe you that, boys. You provided us with a way out. It’s a pity …”
The gun arced through the air, from Frank to Hank and back again. To give Jimmy his due, he didn’t look keen on any of this. “Tell you what. Let me do you one last favour. You choose who gets to go first.”
“Him,” Hank said promptly, nodding at his brother. “He got to come into this world seven minutes before me. Only right I get to even things up a little. After … we could talk.”
“What?” Frank bellowed with heartfelt outrage. “What? Because I’m seven minutes older?”
Hank screwed round trying to look at him. “It’s only fair. Given the circumstances and everything.”
Frank shuffled up against him, remembering not to disturb the loose ropes. “He’d have just killed me! And you want to talk to him?”