An Absence of Light

“No. Kalatis, I don’t know, that guy could be capable of anything.”

“I thought you were afraid he’d been… killed.” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation.

“I don’t know, maybe, or maybe he’s just… not answering.”

“Which would mean…?” She wished to God he would stop pacing. He was a goddamned caricature, a comic book character being “nervous,” taking long strides with little U-turn marks behind his heels.

“I don’t… know.”

Connie wanted to scream. He had said “I don’t know” four times in the last three minutes. She looked at him. The man was falling apart. He actually was pale, and perspiring on his upper lip. That was something she particularly disliked, but upon seeing it now it was not dislike she felt. It was fear. His fear was infectious, and she felt its warm hand creeping up her throat and contaminating her own imagination. But even in the midst of her growing anxiety, she had the clear, rational realization that she could use his panic as an opportunity to gain an advantage. Despite her alarm, she resolved to appear calm, to be calm. She resolved to present a composed and rational demeanor. She would become a point of stability that he could cling to. It was an opportunity she could hardly afford to pass up.

“Look,” she said, not knowing what she would say next, “nobody knows where I live, do they? I mean, any of those people?”

He stared at her from across the room. He shook his head.

“Okay, go to my place, then, and stay there. I’ll try to get some idea of what’s going on.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Give me your contact numbers.”

He stared at her, but she could see him thinking. What was his alternative? He clearly thought things had fallen apart. But was he misreading the situation? If he was, it would be a mistake to betray such numbers. Kalatis would have him strangled. But if he wasn’t, if his suspicions were right and he was being hung out to dry… or if he was going to be killed… then he had nothing to lose, and might even save his life. But what could she possibly find out…?

“What are you going to do with them?” he asked.

“You said you couldn’t get an answer from Bur tell or Sheck. You said you thought they were in the explosion at the marina. What if you’re wrong? What if they’re hiding too, or not yet aware that something’s gone wrong?”

Faeber stood still and tried to moisten his lips with his tongue. It didn’t work. His mouth was like sand.

“Then I ought to call them myself,” he said.

“You’re not thinking straight,” she said. “You need to drop out of sight Keep quiet. Wait” She couldn’t believe she was saying these things. It didn’t seem very real, helping an emotionally debilitated Colin Faeber elude an assassin.

Faeber’s dry tongue came out of his mouth again, just a little, and retreated. He walked over to the coat closet, opened the door and took out his suit coat that was hanging there. Retrieving his wallet from the inside pocket, he took out a small plastic card and handed it to her. “The instructions are on there,” he said. “It’s a series of digits, and you calculate them differently depending on the date and who you’re trying to call. It’s all explained. It’s kind of like one of those perpetual calendars. It says on there.”

She took the card from him.

“Just stay at my place,” she said. “Just let me look into this a little.”

He nodded, but he seemed preoccupied. All the failure that Rayner had predicted would come to him-because of his scheming with Kalatis-had arrived. They were through with him. He had served his purpose, and he wasn’t even sure what it had been. Still holding his coat, he walked out of the office.

Connie watched him leave. Through the open door of his office, she saw him walk through her office and into the reception room. She heard the receptionist speak to him, but he didn’t answer. She heard the soft ping of the door as he pushed it open and walked out into the hallway.

She stepped over to his desk, picked up the telephone, and called Rayner Faeber.

Chapter 66

They agreed to meet the two women in the parking garage of the Stouffer Hotel in Greenway Plaza. That was Rayner’s idea. Graver didn’t care where they met and considered himself lucky that she had hit Last’s pager when she had because the two men were just about to leave La Facezia’s and go their separate ways.

As they approached the top of the ramp on the level where they had agreed to meet, Last spotted their car.

“There they are,” he said. “The BMW.”

A large, midnight blue BMW sedan with deeply tinted windows was waiting in one of the parking spaces facing the outside of the garage, its nose up against the low barrier wall so that the occupants had a good view looking out of the shaded shelter to the northwest, toward the Galleria and the Transco Tower. The noon sun was baking the city, sending undulating heat waves out over the treetops and glinting here and there off glass and chrome.