Waltz’s eyes scanned right to left. He listened. Nothing. Only darkness and silence.
And the thumping of his own heart.
Seneca’s knife pressed against his back. Waltz fought hard to keep from wetting his pants.
“It’s 12:50. He’s not gonna show.”
“He’s already here, Houdini. Out there, somewhere in that darkness. He only needs a little incentive to join us.”
“Incentive? What incentive?”
Seneca grabbed Waltz and put the knife against his neck. “Watching me kill your sorry Jew ass.”
“Come on, Seneca, cut me a break.”
“Don’t beg, Houdini. It’s beneath you.”
Seneca slammed Waltz to the ground, pressed a knee hard against his chest, and drew the knife back. “Looks like your big hero let you down this time, Houdini. Sorry about that.”
“Seneca.” A voice—his voice—coming from the trees.
Seneca jumped to his feet, took two steps forward, and let his eyes search the darkness. For nearly a minute there was total silence and no movement. Even the wind had vanished. Waltz would later say it was as if time stopped.
After a few more seconds, the outline of a man began to take shape within the shadows. The figure moved forward several steps, stopping at the line dividing darkness from light, his face still hidden from view.
The silence seemed to last forever.
Finally, it was broken by the man in the shadows.
“Been a long time, Seneca.”
“Is that you, Cain?” Seneca laughed. “Well, kiss my Cherokee ass. Cain. The great Cain. The big man himself. I knew you’d show up.”
“How could I disappoint a wonderful guy like you?”
“No flattery, please, Cain. It’s not you.” Seneca took a step forward. “I’ve been expecting you for quite a while.”
“Is that so?”
“Ever since I heard what you did to Deke. Not a very nice thing for you to do, Cain.”
“What you did to Cardinal wasn’t nice either.”
“Had done to Cardinal. I would never have fucked things up like Deke did. Sloppy bastard.”
“You’re sloppy, too, Seneca. Leaving a survivor in Arlington. Terribly amateurish for someone with your reputation.”
“Horseshit explosives. Never did like them.”
“Is that what you’re using tomorrow? Explosives?”
“Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Playing dumb isn’t your style, Seneca.”
“Okay, if you’re so smart, Cain, you fill me in.”
“Long Island. Cohen estate. How’d I do?”
“You’ve done your homework. I’m impressed, Cain. But what else should I expect from a legend? Explosives it will be; C-4 to be exact. Not my preference, but under the circumstances, the best I could come up with.”
“It won’t happen.”
“Who’s gonna stop it? You?”
“Yeah, me.”
Seneca laughed. “You’ve been away too long. Things change; legends fade. Your time has passed.”
“You trying to scare me or convince yourself? Because I’m catching a drift of fear coming my way.”
“Save the psychology, Cain. That shit won’t work on me.”
“I don’t need psychology to take you out, Seneca. I don’t need anything. Just these hands.”
Seneca reached out, hooked his arm around Waltz’s neck, and placed the tip of the blade against his throat. “First, I’m gonna make you watch your friend die, then I’m gonna take care of you and your fucking legend.”
“Kill him. He means nothing to me,” Cain said.
“You’d give up your little buddy that easily? What’s that say about friendship?”
“Be done with him, Seneca. Then you can come for me.”
“I’ll give you credit, Cain. You’ve never given a damn about who gets sacrificed during a mission. That’s one of the few qualities I admire about you.”
Cain stepped out of the shadows and into the light.
Upon seeing Cain, Seneca pushed Waltz to the ground and moved forward, holding the knife in front of him. “To hell with Houdini. It’s you I want.”
“Here I am.”
“You have one of those death cards with you?” Seneca asked. “The ace of spades?”
Cain smiled. He knew. Seneca was afraid.
“My last one. Just for you.”
Seneca gripped the knife tightly and began to creep toward the shadows.