Thumps locked the house, pocketed the key. Cruz followed him back to the cruiser.
“You know, there’s a chance Gage is still alive.” Cruz raised a hand to keep the sun out of his eyes. “They won’t believe she doesn’t know anything, so they’ll spend some time trying to convince her of the error of her ways.”
“As in torture.”
“As in.”
“Odds?”
“I’d keep my money in my pocket,” said Cruz, “but I’ve seen stranger things happen. There was this one time in Kabul . . .”
“Or they could just kill her.”
“Lot of heat for nothing,” said Cruz. “Something that multinationals with fat government contracts would prefer to avoid.”
Thumps leaned against the car. “I’m Para Bellum, and I’m pissed off that Black Ice helped themselves to my money.”
“Your illegally acquired money.”
“Tomayto, Tomahto. So, they pay Dalca for giving them Gage.
They grill her for the information they want, but they don’t get it. It’s decision time. They can kill her, lose the body, and get on with business as usual or . . .”
“. . . they can let her go with all sorts of dire warnings about saying anything.”
“Killing her is clean, but it may come back to bite them on the ass.”
“And letting her go runs the risk of her talking to the authorities.”
Thumps shifted his weight. “But Gage isn’t going to do that.”
“Sorin Dalca.” Cruz nodded.
“Gage knows that Dalca is alive. If she’s going to shine a light on anyone, she’ll start with him.”
“Which means Dalca has a vested interest in making sure that Gage is not left alive to talk.”
Thumps turned back to the house. “So, he covers his bases. He gives Gage to Para Bellum and gets paid. Either they kill her or they don’t. If they do, Dalca is free and clear. And if they don’t, Dalca is going to have to finish the job.”
“Tricky,” said Cruz. “Dalca would have to know in advance that Para Bellum was going to turn her loose. And he would have to know where and when, because as soon as Gage is free, she’s going to run for cover.”
“How would you do it?”
“You asking for trade secrets?”
“Tracker,” said Thumps. “When she was in the safe room. Probably more than one.”
Cruz shrugged. “Wristwatch. If she has one. Shoes are a good place. Hell, they have trackers you can swallow and sprays that can be followed via satellite.”
“But?”
“But the good stuff is high tech. Expensive. Not easy to come by. And in addition to the tracker, you need a shitload of gear and a team to be able to follow the signal.”
“Something a guy just back from the dead wouldn’t have?”
“Para Bellum could have the gear.”
“Sure, but why would they bother?”
“How about we take a break from all the thinking,” said Cruz, “and get something to eat.”
“As in, I take you out to dinner?”
Cruz opened the door, slid in. “And don’t even think about the giant squirrel.”
MIRACLE OF MIRACLES, Thumps was able to find a parking space almost in front of Pappous’s.
“You’re kidding.”
“Best food in town,” said Thumps.
“The guy hates me,” said Cruz. “He’ll probably put something in my food. Give me diarrhea.”
“Just don’t order the octopus.”
Cruz followed Thumps in through the door. “What I said about the giant squirrel? I may have been hasty.”
Pappous’s was empty. Fancy Whelan was moving from table to table, arranging place settings, tenting napkins.
“Sheriff DreadfulWater. And mysterious friend.”
“Evening, Fancy.”
“Try late afternoon,” said Fancy. “We’re not open yet.”
“Archie here?”
“He is. And the lad is in a foul mood.”
Thumps waited.
Fancy rolled her eyes. “The octopus he ordered didn’t arrive.”
“Sonic Drive-in,” said Cruz. “You must have a Sonic in town.”
Thumps frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Dumbo’s?”
“You mean, why am I here during doughnut business hours?”
“Doughnuts,” said Cruz. “Nothing wrong with doughnuts for dinner.”
“Uncle Morris is thinking of closing the shop.”
Thumps felt the ground move under his feet. “What?”
“Says he’s retiring,” said Fancy. “To Puerto Rico.”
“His girlfriend?”
“Found his anamchara, he has,” said Fancy. “And about time. Another year or so and Uncle Morris’ll be nothing but gristle and noise.”
“But Dumbo’s doughnuts . . .”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Fancy. “But I expect we’ll know soon enough. Uncle Morris isn’t one for acting the maggot.”
Thumps heard the kitchen door open behind him.
“This can’t be good news.”
“Evening, Archie.”
“It’s not evening,” said Archie. “It’s late afternoon.”
“Hoping we could get an early dinner.”
Archie eyed Cruz. “He kill anyone yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve got some lamb pilaf made up. You like lamb pilaf ?”
“If it’s got lamb in it,” said Cruz, “I’ll like it.”
Thumps and Cruz settled into a table, took a collective deep breath. Thumps moved the flatware around. Cruz moved the candle to one side.
“So,” Cruz said, after he had rearranged the salt and pepper shakers for a third time, “you got any more ideas?”
“Lots.”
“Intelligent ideas.”
“Logic says that Gage is dead or about to be dead. Because Dalca can’t afford to leave her alive.”
Cruz nodded. “Can’t fault the logic.”
“And if she’s dead, then Dalca is long gone or about to be long gone.”
“Again, the logic is good.”
“Can you leave the salt and pepper shakers alone?”
“The folks back east aren’t going to be happy.”
Thumps sat back. “And they would be . . . ?”
“You know,” said Cruz. “The folks back east.”
“How about you answer a couple of questions.”
Cruz turned his hands palm up. “Sure.”
“I’m serious,” said Thumps. “First off, the . . . folks back east
. . . had to know what Black Ice was doing, had to know about the money.”
“They did.”
“Which means they knew about the Vault.”
“Sure,” said Cruz. “Dalca told them. It wasn’t a secret.”
“He just neglected to tell them how to access the money.” “All right.” Archie and Fancy came banging out of the kitchen, carrying plates. “Dinner.”
Fancy set a plate in front of Cruz. “This is the good stuff.”
“It’s all good stuff.” Archie helped himself to a chair. “About time we all got caught up.”
Catching up for Archie was a sacred ritual. Knowing what was going on in Chinook at any moment, a religion. Thumps tried to fill him in between mouthfuls of food.
“I hear you caught the car thieves.”
“Mmmmm.”
“Two old guys.”
“Mmmmm.”
“But you’re not going to prosecute.”
“No harm,” said Thumps, “no foul. We couldn’t find anyone who wanted to make a complaint.”
Archie looked at Cruz. “And the missing woman?”
“No comment.”
“You don’t like the food?”
“The food is great,” said Cruz. “Are there seconds?”
“The woman is still missing,” said Thumps.
Archie crossed his arms, leaned forward. “You two are going to have to do a lot better than that if you want dessert.”
ARCHIE BROUGHT OUT seconds of the pilaf, reminisced about working on his uncle’s fishing boat in Greece. Cruz countered with anecdotes of growing up in Pie Town, New Mexico, and by the time dessert arrived, the two men were deep into a bonding ritual of storytelling.
Thumps thought about joining the fray, but in the end, he was content to sit back and listen. And think. Always a problematic activity. Thinking, Thumps found, generally led to the complications and tribulations of life.
Claire and Ivory. For example.
He hadn’t heard from Claire since she set sail for Canada. It was too soon for Ivory to have had the tests to determine if the absence seizures were something she might grow out of or if they were a harbinger of something more serious.
Claire had disappeared. Like Gage. Thumps knew the comparison was specious. Gage had been kidnapped, was very likely dead, while Claire had simply gone into seclusion, as she often did when she needed time and space. She would reappear. Eventually. He could stay and wait. Or he could not. His choice.
And for now, he would wait.
“Did you know this treló átomo has been to Machu Picchu?” Archie shook his head in disbelief. “He hiked the Inca Trail.”
Thumps had seen a half-hour special on the site. The views had been spectacular.
“Tell Thumps how many days it took.”
“Four days,” said Cruz. “It’s not the distance or the slope that gets to you. It’s the altitude.”
“And they give you coca leaves to chew?”
“Helps to prevent altitude sickness.”
Archie sat back. “I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Never too late,” said Cruz.
“More galaktoboureko.” Archie waved a fork at Cruz. “You have to have more galaktoboureko.”
THERE WAS LITTLE doubt in Thumps’s mind that Archie and Cruz would have sat in the restaurant for the rest of the evening, swapping war stories, if Archie hadn’t been interrupted by customers who began coming in for dinner.
“So annoying.” Archie stood, spread his arms in apology. “You open a restaurant because you like good food, and people come to eat your food, and then there is little time for stories.”
“We’ll come back,” said Cruz.
“Yes, yes, you must come back,” said Archie. “You must tell me what happened when you were lost in the Amazon.”
Thumps stopped at the door. “You were lost in the Amazon?”
“It’s a long story,” said Cruz. “And it’s complicated.”
“Those are the best stories,” said Archie.
Thumps held the door open. “Why don’t you tell Archie about all the times you almost got me killed.”
“Such a good time,” said Archie. “We should hug.”
Cruz tried to step away, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“So many stories.” Archie gave Cruz an extra squeeze. “So little time.”