Rough Weather - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,11

I said. “Once he knows the deal, he’ll collect what hostages he has left and assemble them with his shooters by the helicopter. The first moment the storm allows, he’ll ditch the hostages, except Adelaide, hop in the chopper with his shooters, and get out of here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure,” I said.

“Because?”

“Because that’s what I’d do,” I said.

“Should we try to stop him?” Susan said.

I loved the “we.”

“I have a thirty-eight with five rounds and a two-inch barrel,” I said. “Rugar’s got five guys with at least thirty rounds each, plus himself, who can shoot the balls off a flea at a hundred yards.”

“I don’t think fleas have balls,” Susan said.

“Their loss,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

The barn was warm. The horses generated some heat. And a comforting horsey smell.

“All those circumstances existed when you came to get me,” Susan said.

“That’s true,” I said.

“I get special treatment,” she said.

“You do,” I said.

“If we get out of this,” Susan said, “people may be critical that you didn’t save the bride.”

“Probably,” I said.

“What would you tell them?”

“Never complain,” I said. “Never explain.”

“No,” Susan said. “I want to know.”

“I would,” I said, “tell them that saving you was all I could manage, and trying to save anyone else would have endangered you.”

“And if someone said you sacrificed Adelaide for me, what would you say?”

“I’d say, ‘You bet your ass I did.’”

“And you couldn’t do both,” Susan said.

“No.”

“It is one of your greatest strengths,” Susan said. “Since I have known you, you do what you can, and do not blame yourself for not doing more.”

“There is no red S on my chest,” I said. “I cannot leap tall buildings at a single bound.”

“Short buildings?” Susan said.

“Short buildings, sure,” I said.

“No regrets?”

“None about the buildings,” I said.

“But otherwise?”

“Sorrow sometimes. Like when I lost Candy Sloan. But . . .”

“But?” Susan said.

I shrugged, and realized she couldn’t see me. It was odd talking like this, two disembodied voices in the oppressive darkness. The lightning flashes seemed to be gone.

“But I did what I could,” I said.

“It helps to know that,” Susan said, “when you lose.”

We were quiet for a time, listening to the horses move pleasantly in their stalls.

“What do you think happened to those security guards?” Susan said.

“Nothing good,” I said.

“You think Rugar killed them?”

“Yep.”

“Because that’s what you would have done.”

“If I were Rugar,” I said.

“What’s interesting is, why you’re not.”

“Not Rugar?” I said.

“In many ways you’re like him,” Susan said. “But in crucial ways you’re not. It’s like Hawk. I’ve never quite figured it out.”

“Hawk’s different than Rugar,” I said.

“I know,” Susan said. “All three of you have rules.”

“We do.”

“But?” Susan said.

“That’s all Rugar’s got,” I said.

“Hawk has more?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And you?”

“I have you,” I said.

“I like to think that,” Susan said. “But I’m pretty sure you were different than they are before you met me.”

“Maybe I was,” I said. “But far less happy.”

We were quiet again. The horses were quiet. It was hard to be sure, but I thought it possible that the storm was quieting.

“My hair is plastered to my skull,” Susan said. “And I’m sure that all my face has washed away.”

“Lucky it’s dark,” I said.

12

At the opposite end of the barn was a window high up near the peak of the roof. I knew that because it had a little gray light showing though it. Susan was soddenly asleep on the floor beside me. I got up stiffly and walked to the barn door. The horses stirred and muttered. It might have been me walking around, or maybe horses just get hungry early. Outside, except for the uprooted trees and the scattered limbs and the saturated earth, it was as if the world had begun again. The air was clean and still, pungent with the salt smell of the ocean. Nothing moved. To the east the sky was bright with the impending sun. I moved along the edge of the barn with my gun in my hand. The cliff edge was ahead of me. To my left I could see the MP9 that had disappeared in the fight last night. Most of it was washed over with mud, and only the barrel showed. I left it. It would need to be cleaned to be dependable. On the other side of the barn, and at a little distance, I heard the sound of the helicopter starting up. I edged around the corner of the barn and looked toward where I thought it was. It was a lot closer than it had seemed in