CHAPTER 27

I went through the steps carefully. I would strap the package to the back of the bike, careful to cushion it with rags. I wanted to make sure that it didn’t get jolted, wires come loose. I would ride the bike down the hill, pedal carefully through San Anselmo, then along Shady Lane to Ross. I would pedal carefully up Lagunitas. No, I would push the bike up the hill. Nothing unusual about that, middle-aged man pushing a bike uphill. When I got to Carmel Drive I would go to the corner just above Winslow’s address. I would park the bike next to the bushes that obscured his neighbor’s house. Push it back into the foliage. Unstrap the device. Walk it down to Winslow’s driveway, place it in the middle of the driveway just outside the gate. There were copies of the New York Times in their blue wrappers on many driveways in Ross. Go back to the edge of his property where his tall hedge ended. I could tuck myself into the space between the end of his hedge and the bushes next door. There was enough space. Wait. I would hear the opening of the gate, I could see the nose of the car come out and I would press the button. The explosion would lift the car, hurl it into the air and tumble it into the street. Tumble it. Pinwheel it. It would pinwheel with what remained of Winslow inside, and I would go to my bike, ride to the top of Carmel Drive where it intersected with Canyon Road, coast down Canyon Road and when it intersected with Shady Lane, I would turn north again, retrace my route to my house while behind me the burning hulk of Winslow’s Mercedes would lie in the street and the Ross Fire Department would come and neighbors would appear and it would be done. Complete.

What did egrets do when they had speared their catch? They rose, opened their wings and flew. They tucked their heads into their shoulders (if birds had shoulders) and they rowed with their wings, stroked through the air, like long white oars in a steady beat. I would fly, too. Which meant that I had to pack things up now. Gather the tools I intended to take with me, pack a minimum of clothes and toilet articles, a good jacket, an old sweater that was a favorite of mine, empty my bank account. Convert my assets into cash before I blew up Winslow. Which meant that it would take me more than a few days. I would have to have my affairs wrapped up, cash in hand, ready to take wing when I delivered the New York Times to Earl Anthony Winslow.

There would be no chance to sell my house. That would take too long, was too complicated. But the rental market in Marin was hot, and I could rent my house easily for three thousand a month. I could do that within a week. Rent it furnished, ask for a first and last month’s rent and a cleaning deposit. I could have seven thousand cash in hand. My savings account had another fifteen thousand in it. My checking account had a bit more than a thousand. I had a life insurance policy I could borrow against. There was more than fifty thousand there. If I took a second on the house, it would take a little more than a week to get a check. I could get another two hundred thousand, easily. I would eventually default on the loan, but the bank would have to deal with that. I would be far away, flaring my wings, settling in to a new place. Which meant that I could, within a week and a half, have a quarter of a million dollars, enough to relocate somewhere else, start over, know that Earl Winslow had suffered for his carelessness. I could even get myself a new dog.

I started by calling the Chase Bank at the Redhill Shopping Center. A banker with a smooth, well-modulated voice answered my questions about a second mortgage. “I want to put a down payment on another piece of property,” I said. “I want to take out a second on my house, which is paid for. But I need the money quickly. It has to be a cash transaction, and the buyer is willing to sell if I can come up with the cash within a week. Is that possible?”

“It’s highly unlikely,” he said. “The bank has to get assurances about your property and details about your financial history.”

“I came to you because I have a checking account with you and a savings account. Surely you can expedite things for me.”

“I can try.”

“Not good enough,” I said. “There are companies that advertise on the television that I can get instant approval for a house loan. You’re sure you can’t do anything?”

“Let me call you back,” he said.

An hour later he called. He had talked with someone in the San Francisco office, and if I could produce the deed to my house and the documents showing that it was fully paid for, I could get the cash within a week. I was profuse in my thanks. Now I had a schedule. A week from Tuesday would be the new date. I began to make a list of what I should pack.