But the detective’s connections to Louis were well known, and nobody of his acquaintance would have accepted the contract, either as the agent or the trigger man. Nevertheless, it had been necessary to check, just to be sure.

There was also the distinct possibility that the hit was related to Parker’s movements through darker realms, and with that in mind Louis had already made contact with Epstein, the old rabbi in New York. Louis had made it clear to him that, if Epstein discovered something relating to the hit and chose not to share it, then Louis would be seriously displeased. In the meantime, Epstein had sent his own bodyguard, Liat, up to Maine. She was, thought Louis, a little late to the party. They all were.

A third line of investigation pointed to the Collector, but Louis had dismissed that possibility almost immediately. A shotgun wasn’t the Collector’s style, and he’d probably have come after Angel and Louis first. Louis suspected that the Collector wanted Parker alive unless there was no other option, although he did not know why, despite Parker’s efforts to explain the situation to him. If he ever did manage to corner the Collector, Louis planned to ask him to clarify it, just before he shot him in the head.

Finally, there was the case on which Parker had been working before the hit: a missing girl, a dead man in a basement and a town called Prosperous, but that was all Louis knew. If someone in Prosperous had hired a killer, then it brought the hunt back to Louis. He would find the shooters, and make them talk.

Which was why he and Angel were now standing before Cambion, because Cambion didn’t care about Louis or Parker or anyone or anything else, and he dealt in turn with those who were too vicious and depraved to care either. Even if Cambion hadn’t been involved – and that had yet to be established – his contacts extended into corners of which even Louis was not aware. The creatures that hid there had claws and fangs, and were filled with poison.

‘Quite the place you have here,’ said Louis. His eyes were growing used to the dimness. He could see the modern medicines on the shelves behind Cambion, and a doorway beyond that presumably led to where Cambion lived and slept. He could not visualize this man making it up a fight of stairs. A wheelchair stood folded in one corner. Beside it was a plastic bowl, a spoon and a napkin. A china bowl and silver soup spoon sat on the desk beside Cambion, and he spotted a similar bowl and spoon on a side table to his right.

Curious, thought Louis: two people, but three bowls.

‘I was growing fond of my new home,’ said Cambion. ‘But now, I think, I shall have to move again. A pity: such upheavals drain my strength, and it’s difficult to find suitable premises with such a gracious atmosphere.’

‘Don’t go running off on my account,’ said Louis. He didn’t even bother to comment on the ambience. The apothecary’s old premises felt to him only a step away from an embalmer’s chambers.

‘Why, are you telling me that I can rely on your discretion, that you won’t breathe a word of where I am?’ said Cambion. ‘There’s a price on my head. The only reason you’ve got this close is because I know that you declined the contract on me. I still don’t understand why.’

‘Because I thought a day like this might come,’ said Louis.

‘When you needed me?’

‘When I’d have to look in your eyes to see if you were lying.’

‘Ask it.’

‘Were you involved?’

‘No.’

Louis remained very still as he stared at the decaying man. Finally he nodded.

‘Who was?’

‘No one in my circle.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’

Although it was only the slightest of movements, Angel saw Louis’s shoulders slump. Cambion was the last of the middlemen. The hunt would now become much more difficult.

‘I have heard a rumor, though …’

Louis tensed. Here was the game. There was always a game where Cambion was concerned.

‘Which is?’

‘What can you offer me in return?’

‘What do you want?’

‘To die in peace.’

‘Looking at you, that don’t seem like an option.’

‘I want the contract nullified.’

‘I can’t do that.’

Cambion placed the gun, which had remained in his hand throughout, upon the desk, and opened a drawer. From it he produced an envelope, which he slid toward Louis.

‘Talking tires me,’ he said. ‘This should suffice.’

‘What is it?’

‘A list of names, the worst of men and women.’

‘The ones you’ve used.’

‘Yes, along with the crimes for which they are responsible. I want to buy the contract back with their blood. I’m tired of being pursued. I need to rest.’

Louis stared at the envelope, making the calculations. Finally he took it and placed it in his jacket pocket.

‘I’ll do what I can.’

‘Those names will be enough.’

‘Yes, I think they will. Now, the rumor.’

‘A man and a woman. Married. Children. Perfect Middle Americans. They have only one employer. A handful of hits, but very good.’

‘Their motivation?’

‘Not money. Ideology.’

‘Political?’

‘Religious, if what I hear is true.’

‘Where?’

‘North Carolina, but that may no longer be the case. It’s all I have.’

Behind them, the yellow-clad giant named Edmund appeared. He handed Louis a slip of paper. On it was written a cell phone number. The meeting was over.

‘Soon I’ll be gone from here,’ said Cambion. ‘Use that number to confirm that the contract has been voided.’

Louis memorized the number before handing the paper back to Edmund. It vanished into the folds of the giant’s hand.

‘How long you got left?’ he asked Cambion.

‘Who knows?’

‘Seems like it might be a mercy to let the contract run its course,’ said Louis, as Edmund stepped aside so that the two visitors could leave, and prepared to escort them out.

‘You might think that,’ said Cambion, ‘but I’m not ready to die yet.’

‘Yeah,’ said Louis, as the drapes fell closed behind him. ‘That’s a damn shame.’

44

Ronald Straydeer was not unfamiliar with sleeping outdoors.

He’d bedded down in the jungles in Vietnam, in the Great North Woods of Maine and beside pot plantations in upstate New York during a period of misunderstanding with some rival growers, which came to an end when Ronald put one of them head-frst into a narrow hole and proceeded to fill it in.

Thus Ronald understood the necessity of good nutrition and proper clothing, particularly when it came to cold weather. He wore polypropylene, not cotton, next to his skin, because he knew that cotton trapped moisture, and the action of convection meant that cold air and damp drained the body’s heat. A hat with earflaps covered his head, because when the head got cold, the body began to shut off circulation to the extremities. He kept himself moving constantly, even if only through the gentle shuffling of his feet and minute stretches of his arms, fingers and toes, generating heat as a by-product. He had brought plenty of water, and an assortment of nuts, seeds, energy bars, jerky and salami, as well as a couple of MREs – because sometimes a man needed a hot meal, even one that tasted like it had been made for pets – and containers of self-heating soup and coffee. He didn’t know how long he might be out in the wild, but he had packed enough food for four days, or more if he had to be abstemious. He was armed with a licensed hunting rife, a Browning BAR Mark II Lightweight Stalker in .308. If it came down to it, he could claim to be hunting squirrel or hare, even coyotes, although the Browning wouldn’t leave much of a varmint behind other than bits of fur and memories.

He had been fortunate with this location. The woods around the ruined church were a mixture of deciduous and evergreen, but more of the latter. He bedded down in the thickest copse he could find, and covered his sleeping bag with branches. He made a careful recon of his surroundings but did not enter the church grounds – not out of superstition, but simply because, if Shaky was right, then the church was important, and people tended to protect places that were important. He checked the gate and the fence, and saw nothing to indicate that the grounds were guarded electronically, but he still didn’t want to risk setting off any kind of hidden motion sensor. Neither did he risk an exploration of the town itself. Ronald was a striking, imposing man, and he attracted attention. Perhaps he would be seeing more of the town soon enough.