The Triggerman Dance

He called the dogs, walked them across the clearing and made them sit in front of the fence. He took each dog by the collar, pointed at the fence and issued a harsh "No." The puzzled labs then followed him back into the clearing and sat attentively by as John settled onto a stump, pulled out a cigarette and lit up. When you get to the clearing, take five. See if any shadows fall.

He smoked and listened to the birds hidden around him. When he was finished he ground the butt into the dirt, rose and commanded his dogs with a firm "stay." He walked across the clearing to a smallish oak tree—no more than twenty feet high— whose branches had been pruned away from the fence. He estimated two yards from the trunk to the fence, then knelt down and began scraping away handfuls of the loose, leaf-covered soil. The box was six inches under. He removed it and opened the lid, then brought out the small flat cellular telephone and slid it into his shirt pocket. He piled the sharp oak leaves around the box before turning to look behind him—just three inquisitive dog faces staring back—then pushing one of the two dial buttons on the face of the little phone. The buttons are dedicated. You can only call one person on earth and that person is me. Black for business and red for busted. If you're flushed, John, press red. Press red and use the hole. We'll do what we can to help you out but it may take a lot more time than you have.

John faced the clearing. He felt his heart pounding against his shirt and the pulse in his forehead. Joshua answered before the second ring.

"I'm here."

"How's the scenery?"

"Superb."

"All your luggage arrive?"

"I think so. No trouble finding it."

"Tell me."

"I've been invited to stay a few days. Whether that's five days, seven or nine hasn't been specified. Wayfarer's insistence. The pit bull has a pant leg already, but no skin inside it. He arranged a week of paid leave with Bruno. These guys move fast if they like you. I met two clients and some of the Liberty Ops people at dinner the second night. Notes to be delivered shortly."

"Can you get some quality time?"

"He's leaving tomorrow. Back on Saturday."

"Beautiful. Is his study still in the main house?"

"Yes. Just like your drawings."

"Then that's your first stop."

"I remember. But I still can't believe he's so lax about his own home."

"Guarded gate, a five-man security team and almost complete isolation do not constitute lax."

"There have to be cameras inside."

"He fashioned Liberty Ridge for the specific purpose of not needing cameras inside. Wayfarer had the sloppiest security habits you could imagine on the job. Took it as a personal affront that anyone would open his mail, so to speak. It was a form of challenge. Miscellaneous?"

John thought of Valerie. "He asked if I was in touch with Susan Baum."

Joshua's laughter was low, clear and wicked. "Well, well. He's nibbling already. And?"

"That was all."

"You can be in touch, Owl. At Wayfarer's pleasure."

"I assumed that."

"The world is lovely when things fall into place. Now, the study—papers, notes, files, records. Think Baum. Think what you might commit to paper if you were going to cap someone. Anything that has a buzz about it, you shoot. Right?"

"Right."

"After that, we'll branch you out into the firearms and ammunition. How are your nerves?"

"Steady."

"Ten-four, clever Owl."

"Later."

John hung up, his fingers sweating on the slender antenna as he folded it back against the body of the unit. He returned to the box, brushed away the leaves, and set the phone back inside. He looked at the dogs again, then down the trail, listening. Next he took out one of the two micro-cameras mocked up to look like penlights—the beams actually worked—and clipped it to the edge of his pocket. He closed the box, set it back in its shallow hole, and replaced the dirt and brittle oak leaves, turning the dark sides down and the light sides to the sun. A grasshopper landed on his shirt and sent his heart into the sky.