the church is the same guy who machine-gunned the bikers.?

?That doesn?t make sense. Why would they be killing each other??

?Maybe they?re not working together.? Pete read more, running his thumb down to the last paragraph. He set the paper aside and rubbed his palms on his knees.

?Say it,? she said.

?The shooter had a limp. Maybe he uses a walking cane. A trucker saw him from the highway.?

Vikki got up from the bed. Her face was pale, the skin tight against the bone, as though she were staring into a cold wind. ?He?s the man I shot, isn?t he??

Pete began putting on his trousers.

?Where you going??

?Out.?

?To do what??

?Not to drink, if that?s what you?re asking.?

Her eyes remained accusatory, locked on his.

?I brought all this on us, Vikki. You don?t have to say it.?

?Don?t leave.?

?More of the same isn?t gonna cut it.?

?I?m not mad at you. I?m just tired.?

?I?ll be back.?

?When??

?When you see me.?

?What are you going to do??

?Boost a car. I wasn?t just a crewman in a tank. I was a mechanic. See, there?s an upside to getting french-fried in Baghdad.?

?Damn you, Pete.?

HUGO CISTRANOS WAS sitting on a canvas chair on the beach in his Speedos, the waves capping and sliding in a yellow froth up on the sand. The air smelled like brass and iodine. It smelled of the crusted seaweed around his feet and the ruptured air sacs of the jellyfish that lay in a jagged line at the water?s edge. It smelled of the fear that fouled his heart and pooled in his glands that no amount of suntan lotion could hide.

He tried Preacher?s cell phone again. He had already left six messages, then had listened to a recording tell him Preacher?s mailbox was full. But this time the cell phone not only rang, Preacher picked up. ?What do you want?? he said.

?Hey, Jack, where you been?? Hugo said. ?I was worried sick, man.?

?About what??

?About whatever has been going on over there. Where are you??

?Looking for a new house.?

?Looking for??

?I had a fire, a propane explosion.?

?You?re kidding??

?During the fire, somebody shot out my car tires, too. Maybe one of the firemen.?

?I read about that motel gig in the Houston Chronicle. That?s what brought it on? Those punks torched your place??

?What motel??

?Jack, I?m your friend. Those guys worked for the Russian out on the coast. I don?t know why they were after you, but I?m glad they got clipped. I suspect they were sent out here to do a payback on Artie and everybody who works for him, including me.?

?I think you got it figured, Hugo.?

?Look, I called about a couple of other issues, even though I was worrying about you, not hearing from you and all.? A red Frisbee sailed out of nowhere and hit Hugo on the side of the head. He picked it up and flung it savagely in a little boy?s direction. ?Artie wants to settle with you. He wants me to take care of the money transfer.?

?Settle? This isn?t a suit.?

?He?s offering you two hundred thou. That?s all the cash he?s got. Why not call it slick and put it behind you??

?You said ?issues,? in the plural.?

?We think we know where the broad is.?

?Try to use proper nouns. That?s the specific name of a person, place, or thing.?

?Vikki Gaddis. I don?t know if the soldier is still with her or not. You want to handle it, or you want Bobby Lee and a couple of new guys to tune her up and maybe deliver her anywhere you want??

?You don?t put a hand on her.?

?Whatever you say.?

?How?d you find her??

?Long story. What do you want me to tell Artie??

?I?ll get back to you with wire instructions for an offshore account.?

?That creates an electronic trail, Jack. We need to meet.?

?I?ll drop by.?

?No, we need to get everybody together at one time and talk things out.?

?Where?s the Gaddis girl??

Hugo?s mind was racing. Why had he believed he could outthink a sociopath? His plated chest was heaving as though he had run up a hill. His skin felt encrusted with sand; sweat and sand seeped from his armpits. His mouth was dry, and the sun was burning through the top of his head. ?Jack, we?ve been in the game a long time together.?

?I?m waiting.?

?You got it. I?m on your team. You got to believe me on that.?

He gave Preacher the name of the town and the name of the steak house where Vikki Gaddis had been seen, not revealing his source. Then he wiped his mouth. ?You got