in the same state, they were as close to each other as to anyone. As close as people in their profession could be.
“I guess I forgot to congratulate you on the new job,” she said. “I just did a night op with a guy who uses one. As much as I hate to admit it—and you know I do—I was impressed.”
“But you’re still not sold.”
“I’ve always felt like sticking things I don’t understand in my brain isn’t a good idea.”
“What if I told you that I understand it and that it’s safe?” he said, picking up a menu lying in the middle of the table and looking at the list of beers.
“I’d say maybe you don’t know as much as you think you know.”
Smith gave an unsurprised nod and flipped to the wine list. There was only about a two-second delay before LayerCake recognized what he was looking at and flashed dully in his peripheral vision. Curious why, he launched the icon and watched as the Wine Spectator ratings of the listed bottles appeared next to their names. How civilized.
“Are you using it now?” Randi asked.
“Yeah.”
“Could you turn it off?”
His brow furrowed for a moment and then he shrugged and shut it down. “Okay. It’s off. Why?”
Randi scooted close enough to press up against him. “Because I have something I want to show you.”
“I’m intrigued.”
She unzipped her bag and pulled that something out, setting it on the table in front of him. In the poor light it took his mind a few beats to reconcile what he was seeing.
“Jesus, Randi!” he said in a harsh whisper, twisting around reflexively to look behind him.
Murphy’s Law—the principle that seemed to rule his life—was in full effect and a bored-looking young waitress was making a beeline for them through the empty tables.
He must have looked a little panicked, because Randi put a hand on his arm. “Relax, Jon. Don’t you ever look at your calendar?”
The young woman arrived at their table jotting on a small tablet. “Can I get you—”
Her voice faltered as she spotted the severed head resting on the cracked Formica. Smith tensed but then a broad smile spread across her face.
“That thing is too cool! Where did you get it?”
“Off the Internet,” Randi replied casually.
“The weird musty smell…”
“Comes in a little spray bottle.”
“Awesome!”
He was a bit perplexed by the conversation until he remembered Randi’s comment about the calendar. He’d been to immersed in his work with the Merge to bother keeping up with holidays. It was October 30. The day before Halloween.
“I’ll just have a beer,” Randi said. “Don’t care what kind.”
“Same,” Smith agreed.
The girl gave the head one last admiring glance and then returned to the bar. He waited until she was out of earshot before he spoke again.
“What the hell is this? Something for the mantel?” he said.
“Take a closer look.”
“Can I turn my Merge back on?”
“No.”
A quick glance around him confirmed that no one but the returning waitress was paying any attention at all. He waited for her to slide the beers onto the table and disappear again before pulling the head toward him.
“Looks like the spine was severed with a saw of some kind and then it was left somewhere dry. Skin color and features are a little hard to distinguish with the shrinkage, but based on the hair and the beard, I’d say you found it in Afghanistan.”
“Very good. Anything else?”
He kept going over it and was about to say no when the dim light picked up something on the side. He pushed back the matted hair and found himself looking at a Merge stud.
“Christ. They’re already smuggling them in?”
She shook her head. “This man died more than three months ago. On July twenty-first.”
“You have your dates wrong. The Merge didn’t go on the market until after that. Hell, Dresner didn’t even make his announcement until the twenty-second.”
“I don’t have my dates wrong.”
If it was anyone else, he would be asking if she was certain, probing for a mistake in her timeline or logic. But this wasn’t someone else. It was Randi Russell.
“So you’re saying you’ve had this since July twenty-first?”
She shook her head. “I went to a village on the twenty-second that had been wiped out by the Taliban. All the men had been decapitated and the heads were gone. I finally tracked them down in a cave a few days ago.”
“Did they all have studs?” he said, trying to conjure an explanation for what he was hearing. The best thing he could come