Eli took Garland Webb down the mountain beneath a blanket of spectacular stars, but his ability to find comfort in the spectral illumination was ruined by the clatter of the ATV engine and the harshness of the headlight.
And the news of Markus Novak’s presence in Montana.
At the base of the slope, where the stream cut through the valley and nothing could be seen of Wardenclyffe, he shut off the ghastly machine and stepped into the shallow remnants of the spring’s last snow.
“Everything is rushed now,” he said. “Because of you. You know she spoke the truth. She came here with Novak. Who knows how many will follow?”
Maintaining control and order of violent men was difficult, and Garland Webb was exhibit A—a critical player who had nearly been lost because he could not keep himself out of trouble. Garland was both a mechanical genius and a sexual predator. Eli needed the former, had no use for the latter. The problem was that you couldn’t separate the two.
“You taunted him,” Eli said. “That is why he came to Cassadaga, and from Cassadaga he got to Homeland Security somehow, and from there to here. Because of your taunt.”
“He tried to have me killed. You would have done nothing, said nothing?”
“Not until greater goals had been achieved. Absolutely not.”
Garland didn’t respond. The sound of the stream was all that could be heard. In the moonlight, it was a quicksilver ribbon.
“You passed the test in Coleman,” Eli said. “That was already done. You’d succeeded, but success was not enough for you.”
The test in Coleman had been vital indeed. Eli had instructed Garland to take full ownership of the murder of Lauren Novak, to claim it to his cell mate as an attempted sex crime, a random victim. Eli wanted to bring police attention to Garland and see if that would result in the utterance of Eli’s name, mention of Wardenclyffe, any of it. That much Garland understood. What he had not known was that Eli had another listener in the prison, and an execution planned if Garland didn’t follow through.
But Garland had obeyed. He’d confessed to the killing—a low-risk confession, cell-block boasting, immediately denied to police—and Eli watched from afar and waited to see if Garland would implicate him. He did not. Instead, he drew the focus of authorities, and also Markus Novak. Eli had been satisfied with this, and so he allowed Garland to live and came to realize that he was perhaps more useful in prison, where he couldn’t make any more mistakes, than on the outside.
Eli had not counted on his release.
“I followed your instruction,” Garland said. “Every bit of it. I could have let her leave town. She might never have returned.”
“With the questions she asked? She was going to return.”
Garland shrugged, uncaring. Eli knew that Garland felt little interest in the fate of Lauren Novak. He hadn’t when given the order, and he didn’t now.
“You’ll have to miss the council now,” Eli said. “The timeline has changed.”
Garland nodded.
“The traps are your responsibility,” Eli said. “Activate the ones already installed. We have no time for the others.”
He took out the keys to Scott Shields’s pickup truck, which was parked at the far end of the forest road.
“When they’re active, wait in the third warehouse until I’ve given you the word.”
“All right.”
“You might have visitors.”
Garland tilted his head. “Who?”
“Novak.”
“How will you arrange that?”
“There’s only one link between him and this place,” Eli said. “That’s his uncle. If he chooses to take that route, I know where it will lead him, and I’ll see that he is redirected. Right to you. You’ll need to be ready.”
Garland spun the keys on his massive index finger, a glittering whirl in the moonlight.
“I’ve been ready for Markus Novak for a long time,” he said.