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new full-time employee this week."
"We? You have a say in hiring?"
"We're equal partners."
Hutchinson leaned back in his chair, taking a deep drag of his cigarette,
thinking.
"Why are you here?" Ukiah asked. "What is it you want?"
"Tell me about June 24, 2004."
The date of the shoot-out. Ukiah moved an ashtray in front of Hutchinson to
give himself a moment to think. That Wednesday had been a busy day, trying to
pick up the pieces of his broken life.
Hex had shot Ukiah dead late Saturday night, and while he healed back to life,
the Ontongard had raided his moms' farm, killed half of the wolf dogs, created
Kittanning, tossed the office, kidnapped Max, and tried to make his partner a
Get by injecting Ukiah's stolen blood into Max. But he couldn't tell
Hutchinson that.
Normally his lies lacked the complexity of his truth. Simply, given only a
moment to think, he could not imagine as many details as the reality supplied.
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In this instance, however, he and Max had woven a rich cloth of truth and
fiction, stored faithfully in his perfect memory. With slight dismay, Ukiah
realized that they had focused only on his going to the abandoned airport
terminal and retreating to
Cranberry Township. What if Hutchinson wanted something prior to that?
Ukiah stalled with, "What part of that day?"
"The interesting parts," Hutchinson said, blowing smoke.
"You're investigating the shoot-out?"
"Is there something else to investigate?"
Ukiah spread his hands. "For all I know, you're looking into a minimarket
robbery. June twenty-fourth, though, was the day of the shoot-out at the
airport terminal, so I figured that's what you wanted to talk about."
"Yes, it is."
So Ukiah told his elaborate lie. Since his desperate search for Max was
public, that part remained fairly intact. The change started with Ukiah
discovering that the Pack, not the Ontongard, had seized Max, and continued
with a highly edited version of what happened inside the old airport terminal.
Since police reports showed Ukiah kidnapped by the Pack and released days
prior to the shoot-out, a second kidnapping was believable, if not equally
obscure. By changing from the Ontongard to the Pack, there was no need to
explain the Ontongard's interest in them. Hutchinson could even question the
Pack, if he had the desire, determination, and a great deal of luck; Rennie
and the others knew the revised version of the day and would back Ukiah.
Hutchinson sat still while Ukiah talked, listening with his eyes as well as
his ears. After Ukiah finished, Hutchinson took the moment of silence to gaze
about the office. His dark eyes lingered on the private investigator license,
the bookcase stuffed with research material, the current case files still
filling in the in box.
"So, your parents hired Bennett to find your real parents. He discovered that
you're highly intelligent, good at observation, mature for your age, have a
real talent for tracking, and the perfect memory doesn't hurt. He took you on,
taught you the trade, and made you a full partner."
Again, Ukiah was thrown by the direction that the conversation took. "Yeah."
"He did fairly well by you."
Ukiah decided to take it as a compliment. "Thank you."
"And when he went missing, you were willing to move heaven and earth to get
him back." It wasn't a question. There was no doubt in Hutchinson's eyes. He
believed Ukiah would risk everything.
"Yes."
"And what would he do to rescue you?"
"He'd do the same."
The clock struck three as Hutchinson gazed at Ukiah with something like sorrow
in his eyes. In the silence afterward, he said, "I believe I envy you."
The back door opened and closed, and Ukiah realized with great relief that Max
was back.
"Max?" he called.
"Hey, kid!" Max called back, coming through the kitchen to his office. Seeing
Hutchinson in the visitor chair, Max checked at the door. "Who's this?"
"This is Agent Hutchinson," Ukiah said. "Agent Hutchinson, this is my partner,
Max Bennett."
Max threw Ukiah a worried glance, saying to Hutchinson, "You weren't supposed
to be here
until four."
"Yes" Hutchinson studied Max through his smoke "your partner reminded me."
Max's eyes narrowed with anger. He jerked his head toward his office. "Let's
move to my office."
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Max settled behind his desk and indicated which chair he wanted Hutchinson in.
"What are you doing here? What is it that you want with us?"
"I'm currently stumbling around in the dark, looking for clues." Hutchinson
flashed his smile, the mask slipping again. "You two have the dubious honor of
being the current long-shot leads that I'm following. To be truthful, the more
I know about you, the less I know why I'm here."
Max glanced to Ukiah to see if he understood Hutchinson. Ukiah shrugged.
Hutchinson reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an envelope. He sorted
through its contents until he found what he was looking for and laid it on
Max's desk. The grainy black and white photograph was most likely taken by a
surveillance camera and then enhanced via a computer software package. A man
stood in a bank lobby. While it was easy to see he was Caucasian with blond or
light brown hair cut short, and had the beginnings of a beard growing out to
hide a weak chin, it was difficult to see why Homeland Security might be
interested in him. He was average build, wore a black running suit, and
appeared unarmed. Hutchinson added two similar photos, the others slightly
blurred as the man turned away from the camera, making them worse than the
first for identification. Other bank patrons came and went around him. "Do you
know this man?"
The photo sparked no memory in Ukiah. "No."
"He goes by the name William Harris." Hutchinson looked to see if the name
meant anything to them. Max was shaking his head. "That might be an alias both
first and last names are on the top twenty most common names in the United
States. The only other name we have for him is Core. He's the founder of a
cult known as the Temple of New Reason."
Ukiah shook his head. The only William Harris they had dealt with had been a
very dark
African-American; the other Harrises Daniel, John, James, Carl weren't this
man either.
Max indicated that he didn't know the face or the name. "What does he have to
do with us?"
"That's one of the questions I'm looking for an answer to." Hutchinson pointed
to the other bank patrons. "These two we only have code names for: Ping." A
young Asian woman in a black running suit, and then a blond man, partially
hidden by a potted plant. "And Ice."
"Did they rob this bank?" Ukiah asked.
"Something more sinister than that." Hutchinson pulled a fourth photo and put
it down with a slight reluctance. "They were at the bank with this woman,
Christina Amelia Whillet of Dover, Massachusetts."
She was a woman caught between extremes. Small but muscular, a face free of
baby fat but filled with wistful innocence, more striking than beautiful, she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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