THROUGH THE CHEROKEE’S WINDSHIELD Daniels saw an instant’s flash of headlights, quickly gone. Was it a signal?
Was it a powerful flashlight, not headlights? They could be hidden in the landfill: the police, warned by Bernhardt. The men from Boston, waiting and watching, their warrants in their pockets, weapons cocked, ready.
First they would take Kane into custody.
Then they would come for him.
Bernhardt—the police—finally the reporters—all of them arrayed against him. All of them, and Millicent, too.
Leaving him only one option, one choice.
Aware of the lassitude that dragged at each movement of hand and arm, suddenly debilitating, he opened the glove compartment, withdrew the .357 Magnum. God, the pistol was heavy. Why, suddenly, was it so heavy?