21

 

CARMEL VALLEY VILLAGE

Gwen needed a change of scene, a break from a world of dubious metrics where disasters were a commodity to be parlayed into a fortune. She headed for her car and drove to Carmel Valley Village in search of lunch. She found to her delight something called Roy’s Deli and came out hugging a brown paper bag of supplies: a huge BLT on crisp french white, dripping with mayo; pink lemonade to wash it down; a coffee and brownie for dessert.

She walked back to Carmel Valley Road, crossed over, and found herself the perfect spot. She was far enough away from the road to hear only a dim roar of traffic, she was shaded by an enormous sycamore, and she had the panorama of the valley stretching out before her to the hills shimmering blue in the distance. Nearby, a swath of wild oregano baked in the midday sun, releasing its tangy scent into the slight breeze.

For half an hour, Gwen lost herself in the pure pleasure of eating, uninterrupted, and just letting her eyes close.…

She opened them abruptly, aware of scrutiny. She leapt to her feet. She felt the sweat of fear and adrenaline break out. She turned three-sixty, doing a rapid inventory. Behind her, no one. In front, perhaps twenty meters away, an old man walking up the path toward her, eyes on hers.

It was the same man who had confronted Messenger at the Lab. He stopped ten feet away. Gwen stood, hands loose by her sides, calculating. From this close she could see his gray stubble, the deep grooves in his face, the unkempt hair, the weary eyes. He was disturbing, but nothing about him spelled threat.

“You work at Falcon,” he said in his raspy voice.

“How would you know that?” asked Gwen. Had he noticed her that day? He had seemed so focused on Messenger, as if seeing only him and Sieber.

“I’ve seen you, driving that old Mustang.”

“You’ve been following me!” exclaimed Gwen. So she hadn’t been imagining it. She gave a brief, mirthless laugh of relief. This guy, whatever his strange agenda, was no threat to her, wasn’t even in the league of the others.

“What of it? You should know something about the people you work for.”

“So you’re doing me a favor, are you?” asked Gwen, narrowing her eyes.

“I’ve tried to tell the others. Those new kids. They wouldn’t listen.”

I’ll bet, thought Gwen. Wouldn’t look good on their record.

“What have you tried to tell them?”

The man paused, glanced at his feet, uncertain now that he had found someone willing to listen.

“Messenger,” he whispered, looking up to meet Gwen’s eyes. “He’s a murderer.”

Gwen studied him, gauging him. Was he mad? Should she walk away, or was there just a kernel of something she should listen to? Pity and instinct and her own inveterate curiosity made her stay.

“Did you used to work there?” she asked.

“My son,” the man replied, his face gentling as he sensed the sympathy in his listener. “My son, Al, worked there. Until four months ago. Then Messenger killed him.”

Gwen blew out a breath.

“How did he die? Your son?” she asked softly.

“Road accident,” said the man bitterly. “That’s the word the police used. Accident.”

Gwen froze. The man didn’t notice. He was locked in his own personal agony.

“Was a hit ’n’ run. He was cycling back home from the Lab. Messenger ran him down. He took that Ferrari of his and he ran down my boy.”

Gwen could feel her heart pounding. So the Ferrari owner was Messenger. He certainly drove like a maniac. She could attest to that.

“But why would Messenger do that?” she asked.

“Have they told you about Paparuda?”

“Paparuda?” Gwen shook her head. “There’s a lot of secrecy in the Lab.”

The man barked out a bitter laugh. “They have a lot to hide.”

“So what is Paparuda?” asked Gwen. “And what does it have to do with the death of your son?”

“It is something people would kill for. Have killed for.”

Gwen felt questions bubbling up. “And? Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“Not here. I don’t want anyone to see us together. For your sake and mine.” He seemed quite sane now. Scarily so. He fished a tattered business card out of his pocket, handed it to Gwen.

“If you want answers, ring me, we’ll meet up somewhere we won’t be seen, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Gwen took the card, watched the man hurry off into the trees and out of sight. Her t-shirt stuck to her sweating chest and her heart still felt as if it were racing as she walked down the path and back to her car.