An Absence of Light

“Well, we caught the meeting,” Arnette said.

Graver had answered the telephone on the first ring. He had just spoken with Paula on the radio, had learned what they had done, and that they were on their way in. But they weren’t coming back to the office. Neuman was going to drop Paula off at her car in the parking lot. They would have an early meeting in the morning.

“What happened?” he asked.

“He met one person, a man in his late fifties, early sixties. I’m relatively sure we got good photographs, but I’m afraid the audio is a very iffy prospect.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“They met at the Transco Tower park and walked straight to the fountain. Stood right in the cup of the waterfall and had a nice thirty-two-minute conversation.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“Yeah. No dummies. Not only that, Burtell took my people on one hell of a road trip. The man’s definitely got a technique.”

“I guess that doesn’t surprise me. Where is he now?”

“Looks like he’s going back home. They’re still on the streets, but that seems to be what he’s doing.”

“Were you able to get the taps in place?”

“Yes, but only after he left for his meeting. I’ve had to pull a lot of people in for this. The logistics haven’t been easy.”

“Okay, fine. I appreciate it.”

“That’s pretty weird about Besom,” she said.” You sure they’re going to do another autopsy?”

“That’s what I was told.”

“What do you think?”

“What the hell am I supposed to think? As a coincidence, the two deaths are pretty hard to buy, but every time I let my mind dwell on the alternatives… well, what I come up with is just as outrageous.”

Arnette didn’t speak for a moment and then she said:

“Marcus, listen to me. Trying to understand what the bad guys of this world are doing is like gazing at the stars. By the time you see their light it’s all over, it’s past tense, and they’ve long since gone on to something else. All you’re left with is the evidence of what they were doing a million years ago. You can’t wait for all the facts to come in to start figuring things out, baby. You’ve got to use your imagination if you want to get a jump on the physics of iniquity.” She paused again. “Believe me, anything you can dream up, no matter how outrageous, is already happening. The thing is, most people won’t figure that out for a long time to come. And that’s exactly what the bastards are counting on.”

Now it was Graver’s turn to be silent, and when he finally spoke all he could think to say was, “When can I see the pictures?”

“You want to come over here early in the morning?”

“What time?”

“Seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be there.”

Chapter 33

“It can’t be very much of an insurance company,” she said, throwing her fourth cigarette into the water. They were sitting on the dock of one of the marinas, their legs hanging over the side above the water, looking across the bay at one of the yacht basins, the strings of lights draped across the masts of the sailboats, the slightly different colored lights strung along the basin’s docks. “I called 800 information, and it wasn’t listed. Can’t be much of a company.”

She picked up the pack of cigarettes beside her and took out another one.

“Here, give me one of those damn things,” he said. He hated seeing her like this. It only meant more trouble for him, every time.

“I think they were cops,” she said, blowing smoke away into the soft breeze.

“Just because it was about Synar?”

“‘Just’ because?” She turned and looked at him. He was only wearing jeans, no shirt, no shoes. She had called the service they used, and he had called her right back. She figured she had gotten him out of bed. She would rather have gotten him into bed. She guessed he just threw on his jeans and came like that “I hardly remembered the goddamn name the first time she called. Then finally I did.”

He smoked. “These are nasty little things,” he said, holding the cigarette up and looking at it in the gloaming darkness. “This is one of those ladies’ brands isn’t it? Little thin things.”

“Jesus!” She was exasperated. Don was always calm. He was so macho. Some guys acted macho, wore it like they wore their cologne, put it on just before going out and then washed it off in the shower afterward. But Don never acted anything. He was macho and never even seemed to notice it, which was like catnip to women like her. He was one of those guys who always knew just what to do in every situation. It had something to do with survival instincts, or something primitive like that, that had gotten bred out of most modern men, the suburban Happy Hour kind of guys. Don C. was always going to take care of himself; he knew exactly how to do it without even thinking. And he could take care of other people, too, if he wanted to.

“You sure you didn’t tell them anything?” he asked.

“Not a damn thing.”

He smoked the cigarette, slumped on the edge of the pier, swinging his feet a little. He could hear the basso moan of one of the big ships standing off in the bay. Jesus, he liked hearing those ships.