Princes of Mannsborough, Part 19

by Vulgar Argot

(MF, rom)

Thule woke at six thirty, half an hour before his alarm would have gone off. As he tried to detach himself gracefully from Dawn, whose head was laid across his chest, she looked up sleepily, "Is it morning?"

"More or less," Thule said. "I need to get some things done before I head into the city."

Dawn stretched, "Want me to make breakfast?"

"It's early yet," said Thule . "Go back to sleep."

Dawn got up on hands and knees, shaking sleep out of her head, "No. It's all right. I need to get moving too. If Marigold can't get a car today, could you drop me off in town, please? I managed to get most of my doctor's appointments made."

"Sure," said Thule , standing up, "what were you thinking of making?"

Dawn sat up, "We saw some pancake mix in the cabinet while we were making dinner last night."

"Good enough," said Thule , "I'm going to jump in the shower. The one in your bedroom should be working fine. I think I've kept the bathroom pretty clean. But, if not, the one off of my father's room should be fine."

Dawn laughed, "Afraid I'm going to follow you into your shower?"

"Yes," admitted Thule , "and I don't have time for that sort of thing this morning."

Dawn pouted. Thule added, "Besides, then I would probably miss out on breakfast. And those pancakes sound really good." At Dawn's look of outrage, he added, "And uncomplicated. Some nice, uncomplicated pancakes sound really good today."

Dawn stuck out her tongue, "Just for that, I'm putting bananas in them and sprinkling them with powdered sugar."

Thule chuckled on his way into the bathroom, "Contentious creature."

"You'd better just hope I don't find any blueberries," called Dawn.

In the shower, Thule took a few minutes just to relax. The hot water washed away aches that he couldn't remember the origin of. But, he really didn't have much time for such indulgences today. He forced himself to focus. As he was drying off, Dawn called, "Hurry up or they'll get cold."

Thule threw on his dress pants and went out. Dawn looked up, "I didn't mean you had to come to breakfast naked."

Thule said, "I have pants on. I don't like to wear my dress shirts to breakfast. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can throw on a t-shirt."

"No," said Dawn, "it's just startling. That's all. I hope you don't expect me to follow that particular dress code."

"Fine," said Thule , "ruin my fantasy of being catered to my beautiful, topless serving girls."

Dawn put his plate down in front of him. Then, she reached up to the top button of her pajama top, holding it with both hands and watching him through sleep-lidded eyes. Thule watched her, knowing that Dawn loved to push his buttons, knowing he would back off. He wondered how far she would push if he didn't. Emphatically, he sat back, watching her, and crossed his arms.

Realizing he wasn't going to stop her, Dawn blushed fiercely. Then, with shaking fingers, she undid the next button. Thule inclined his head to her in recognition. Dawn let her fingers glide down to the next button, but only hovered there for a half second before she dropped her hands.

"Is that a good enough start?" asked Dawn.

Thule chuckled, "Eat your breakfast."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then, Dawn asked quietly, "You would have let me do it, wouldn't you?"

"I hadn't entirely decided," admitted Thule . "I wanted to see how far you would push it if I let you. But, I might have cracked before you did."

Dawn pouted, "You're so mean."

Thule laughed, "And you are a relentless flirt. You love to watch me squirm. I thought I would let you squirm for a change."

After breakfast, Thule went into his bedroom to start copying the most recent files he'd collected onto a new DVD. While the burner was running, he switched over to another machine to print out photo-quality copies of a half-dozen images chosen for their impact. He didn't know how much time he would have to make his case. As they queued up to print, he brought up the June Kane video. If he only had one brief chance to show someone a picture, he knew the one he needed. Fast forwarding as much as he could, he turned the sound all of the way down and tried to find the spot. After overshooting or undershooting it a half dozen times, he reluctantly turned the sound up, rewound a bit, closed his eyes and listened for the dull thud. He'd slowed the playback to one quarter speed. When the thud came, it was deeper and more drawn out than it had actually been. Thule hit a key without opening his eyes to pause the playback. Bracing himself, he opened his eyes and started advancing, then reversing the playback until he was flicking through less than a dozen frames, a half-second of time, back and forth.

So intent was he that he hadn't heard Dawn walk in the room and didn't know she was there until she said, "She's dead, isn't she?"

"I think so," said Thule , "At the very least, her neck is broken." Looking not at Dawn, but at the screen, he said dully, "The human neck doesn't bend like that unless it's broken. And, fourteen frames after this, it bounces off her chest and you can see...well, you can see."

Dawn rested her chin on Thule 's shoulder to get a closer look. He'd frozen it a few frames after June's head had connected with the bench. Her chin was pressed into the hollow of her own throat, the back of her neck an extended, discontinuous line against the bench.

Reaching for the mouse, he hit the print button. The photo printer whined back into life.

Dawn squinted, "Why the hell is Randy smiling?"

Thule sighed and cycled back a few seconds to where June was being handed off to Randy. Then, he played it back, frame by frame, as she wavered and began to fall. Finding the frame he wanted, he asked, "What do you see here?"

"Randy trying to catch June," said Dawn.

"Look at his right hand," said Thule .

Dawn looked, "What the hell is he doing?"

Thule said, "If he wanted, he could curl his fingers around her shoulder right here and get a grip on her. Before he was a running back, he'd been a defensive tackle. Getting purchase like that should be second nature. But, he's pulling his fingers back and the give in her skin says that he's pressing the heel of his hand into her, just below the collarbone."

Dawn looked, "I see it, but why is he doing that?"

Thule rose, facing the bed, "Come here and stand up straight, facing me." When Dawn did, he said, "Rock back on your heels." Dawn rocked back and forth a little. As she rocked back, Thule extended an arm as if he were going to catch her then hit her, just below the collarbone. Her knees went backwards, her arms swung to catch her balance, and she toppled over, flat on her back on the bed.

Thule said quietly, "Randy is smiling because he didn't drop June Kane. He pushed her. And, I don't think it's the first time he's done it."

-=-

After Thule had gathered up everything he needed and gotten dressed, he said to Dawn, "I'm sorry I had to demonstrate that on you. I wasn't sure I believed it myself until I saw you fall over."

"It's all right, Thule ," said Dawn quietly. "I'm glad I could help."

Thule gave her a one-armed hug, his laptop bag over his other shoulder. Dawn nuzzled into his chest, arms wrapped around him. When she looked up, she said, "I would have done it, you know?"

Thule looked puzzled, "Done what?"

"I would have undone all the buttons," she said. " Thule , I'd do anything you wanted me to."

Thule 's body gave a little shiver of anticipation at the words even before his brain had fully processed them. Releasing her and stepping back, he said, "Dawn, you don't owe me that."

Dawn's jaw took a stubborn cast, "Come on, Thule . If anyone owes anyone that, I owe it to you. That could have been me you were watching get murdered in there. You..."

Thule 's look made her words trail off. He said, "Even so, as long as you approach it in those terms, nothing is ever going to happen. I won't have you on those terms. I've already done enough things that skirt the edge of my own morality to keep me in therapy for a very long time once this is all done."

Dawn braced herself and said, " Thule , if it's just because you don't want me..."

Thule crossed the space between them before she could say another word. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. Dawn had only time for a brief squeal before he was kissing her, not gently, but intensely, bruising her lips with his own, pushing her back until she was pinned against the wall next to the front door. He caught her wrists, one in each hand, then pinned them together over her head. His now free hand went down to her belly, avoiding her fresh navel piercing, but running under her shirt, grasping her breast through her bra. He held her there for less than a minute while she undulated against him, foot coming up the back of his leg. Then, he pulled away, releasing her wrists, which she drew down warily.

"Desire," he said emphatically, "is not a problem. I meant what I said. If I don't have you, I'll always regret that I didn't do it when I had the chance. But, I'd rather have done it then than to have you do it because you feel like you owe it to me."

Dawn nodded weakly, eyes about as wide as they could go, breathing shallow.

"Go get your stuff," Thule said. "I don't want to leave you here alone today. You can call Marigold on the way to tell me if I'm leaving you there or in town."

Dawn walked warily to her room, not taking her eyes off of Thule . He had to resist the urge to shout, "Boo!" Chuckling, he went outside to put his laptop case in the car.

Not watching where he was going, Thule almost walked headfirst into Jake before he noticed him. Taking a step back, he reached for the pistol before remembering he didn't have it because he had no carry permit for the city. At the same time, Jake cross drew his own pistol, pointing it menacingly at Thule from waist level. He held it like he knew how to use it.

Thule kept his face cautiously neutral, "I thought you weren't muscle."

"I'm not," said Jake, his own face unreadable. "But, I'm also not stupid. You drew on me the last time I was here. I wasn't coming unarmed again."

Thule raised his hands in front of him, "I'm not armed this time."

"Turn around," said Jake. Thule did. With easy proficiency, Jake patted him down, pulling out his shirt tails and not shying away from the areas where Thule would have put a hold-out weapon.

"All right," Jake said, holstering his own gun, "You can turn back around."

"Are you sure you're not muscle?" Thule asked, turning around, "You seem like you would be good at it."

Jake scowled, "I've been offered the job. I don't want it."

"So," asked Thule , "what do you want?"

Jake's scowl deepened, "Fucking boss wanted me to remind you to come see him tonight and give you this." He handed Thule a guest pass to the Mannsborough Gun club, "That's where he'll be at six o'clock tonight. If you're not there at six o'clock, he's going to send me out to find you."

Jake took a cigarette out and lit it, "If you're not going to be there at six o'clock, I want you to tell me now so I have enough time to pack up my wife and kid and as much stuff as we can fit in our car so that, when Ivan tells me to find you, they'll be long gone and I can get my ass out of this town. I told him and I'm telling you, I don't do the rough stuff."

Thule considered the question. He didn't know what would happen today in New York and he sure as hell didn't like the idea of meeting Ivan Vandevoort at a gun club. But, Jake had reached out to him and Thule didn't want to hang the guy out to dry.

Behind Jake, there was a click and Dawn's voice said, wavering, "Drop it, Brute Squad. Don't fucking make me shoot you."

Jake sighed and raised his hands over his head. Thule reached over and pulled the gun out of Jake's holster.

"It's okay, Dawn," Thule said calmly.

"I saw him pull a gun on you," shouted Dawn.

"It was a misunderstanding," said Thule , "I've got his gun now. He's not going to hurt me."

Dawn poked Jake in the back with the gun, "Please tell me you're not going to hurt him, Jake."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," said Jake, keeping his hands on top of his head. "I just didn't want him shooting me."

Dawn backed off a few steps. Thule reached out for the gun she held. She handed it to him, then crumbled into his arms, hugging him and kissing him on the mouth. Jake took his hands down, giving Thule a venomous look over Dawn's shoulder.

Thule pushed her away, gently, "That was very brave, Dawn. Thank you."

Dawn turned to Jake and started pounding on his chest with her fists, "What the hell are you pulling a gun on Thule for?"

Jake raised his hands to protect his face, "Hey. He started it."

Dawn stopped hitting Jake, but glared at him, "You probably deserved it. I told you you shouldn't be working for Ivan Vandevoort."

Jake looked apologetic, "I know, Wildcat. I'm trying to get out of it, but it's not so simple."

Thule turned to Dawn, "Hon, would you go sit in the car for a minute, please? I really need to talk to Jake privately."

Dawn nodded, "Okay, Thule ."

After she was in the car, Jake said, "That didn't take long. Does your girlfriend know?"

"You know," said Thule , annoyed, "one of these days I swear I am going to shoot you just to remind you that I'm holding a gun."

Jake took a drag from his cigarette, "Really? I didn't take you for the type."

Thule sighed, popping the clip out of Jake's gun, unloading it, sliding the bullets out, and reseating the clip. He did it swiftly, without looking down at the gun or letting go of his own. Then, he put Jake's gun back in its holster and dropped the bullets in the older man's hand.

"To answer your question," said Thule , "my girlfriend does know. It was her idea. And, it's none of your damned business. As for the other matter, I'll see Ivan Vandevoort at six p.m. If I can't be there, I'll call him. If I can't call him, I suspect he'll know why."

Jake nodded, "Thanks. That's what I wanted to know." He half turned towards his car.

"Do you have a light?" Thule asked as he drew out a cigarette for himself. Jake fumbled for his lighter. While he did, Thule took a moment to think. He'd already trusted too damned many people on this, telling them too much. He felt like he could trust Jake not to betray him, but he'd felt that about a lot of people and, eventually, he was going to be wrong.

He asked, "How old is your kid?"

Jake smiled, "He just turned five."

Thule asked, "He in school yet?"

"Nah," said Jake, "The wife wants to try her hand at homeschooling anyway."

Thule took a deep drag as Jake lit his cigarette. Then, he said, "You might want to suggest they take a vacation for a week or two. If you can, you might want to go with them. If your hands are dirty, you might want to wash them, today if you can."

Both men stood there smoking. When Jake had finished his cigarette, he ground it out carefully before speaking.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Then, "is there anything I can do to help?"

Thule flicked his cigarette away, "Not today. Get your family out of here. Get your hands clean. Give me your cell number. If I need you, and I might, I'll call you."

Jake nodded. Reaching into his wallet, he drew out a card. By way of explanation, he said, "I hate what he did to Svetlana. I hate that he's trying to weasel out of his prenup now. After I talked to you last time, I opened my eyes to a lot of things I really didn't want to see."

Thule nodded, "I'll call you if I need you. I'll try not to need you. With any luck, everything will go smoothly from here on out." He shook hands with Jake and they parted ways.

In the car, Dawn was rocking back and forth in excitement.

"What?" asked Thule .

"Marigold says she has a good secret to tell us when we get there," said Dawn.

Thule rubbed his temples and grunted. He didn't need any more secrets.

" Thule ," Dawn asked, more seriously, "did I do all right back there?"

"Yeah," said Thule . "He wasn't going to hurt me, but if he was, you might have saved my life."

"Okay," said Dawn, "one more time and we're even."

Thule sighed. He hoped she wouldn't have the opportunity.

-=-

As Thule and Dawn walked up the path, Marigold came bouncing up it. Soon, both girls were shrieking and giggling and hugging each other. Thule let a suspicion that has he'd suppressed earlier bubble to the surface. He was sure that, any second, Marigold was going to announce that she was pregnant. And, he was starting to sweat.

"So," he asked as casually as he could, "What's the good news."

"Omigoditssocool," said Marigold, "IaskedJonasif..."

"Whoa," said Thule , holding up his hands, "slow down."

Marigold took a deep breath, then panting, said in a rush, "I asked Jonas if I could have one of the cars today to help Dawn get to her doctors and he said it was about time I had a car of my own. So, he's taking the morning off to go with me to buy one. And he set it up so that I could start taking professional driving lessons this afternoon."

Thule was so relieved that he could only manage a weak, "That's great." Marigold looked at him querulously.

"Sorry," he said, "I was afraid it was something else."

Both girls seemed to realize what he was talking about at the same moment. They looked at each other and started giggling"

Marigold reached up, petting his cheek, then went up on tiptoe to kiss him, "Oh, Thule , sweetie. I would love to one day, but that would not be good news, at least not until after we're finished with school. Besides, I told you I'm on the pill."

"I know," said Thule , "It's just my natural fatalism trying to drive me insane."

"Oh," said Marigold, "Jonas wanted to talk to you."

"Please tell me that my mentioning my natural fatalism didn't just remind you of that."

Marigold chuckled, "It'll be fine. He just wants to catch up."

Thule was not entirely reassured, but Jonas seemed relaxed enough when he walked into the older man's home office.

"Since when do you play golf?" Thule asked.

Jonas looked up from his putt, "I've played for years. As much of a cliché as it is, I consider it an essential skill in every executive's portfolio. I just haven't played very much. Now that Marigold's headed off to college, I'm thinking of playing more."

"My dad plays," said Thule, "He's played in places I wouldn't even think would have a golf course, like Bahrain . One of these days, I should learn the game."

"I never really had time for Marigold and golf," said Jonas. "Of course, you're a younger man than I was when I got involved in her life, so you might have more stamina."

Thule thought he understood part of the statement. Jonas was telling him that he considered Marigold his responsibility once they were in Boston . But, the bit about Marigold and golf, was he saying he knew about Dawn? Or, was Thule just slipping over the edge from healthy to unhealthy paranoia now?

Not knowing what was being said, Thule decided to play dumb, "With MIT starting next year, I don't imagine I'll have much time to play. Plus, I'll have to find a job at some point if I'm going to make it through four years. So, I suspect that it will be a long time before I get a chance."

Now, Thule wondered if he were playing dumb or trying to answer Jonas's oblique question with an equally oblique answer. Sometimes, he was too subtle to even follow his own trains of thought entirely.

"Do you have any plans for the summer?" Jonas asked.

Thule decided to give up on subtext. If Jonas wanted to get at some information, he was going to have to come out and ask for it. Otherwise, Thule was liable to get a migraine from the whole thing.

"Truthfully," he said, "I haven't thought much about it. I've been so focused on finishing out this year and getting to MIT that the whole June to September thing has been sort of a low priority. I know they want me to do more hours at the lab, finish up as much as I can before I leave."

Jonas took another putt, "I know there were some obstacles to us working together in the past. I don't know if those are still extant, but Mac speaks very highly of you."

Thule shrugged. As much as he wanted to answer straight, the question of obstacles was too troubling to ignore, "I'm willing to listen to any offer you might want to make."

"Good," said Jonas, "I'll talk with Mac about it." He made another putt. Without looking up, he added, "I noticed Marigold had three fresh holes in her body yesterday. I was only expecting two."

Thule laughed, "Not my idea. The best I could do was keep her from piercing all the other places she wanted to."

Jonas sighed, "Where did she want to pierce?"

"Places you probably don't even want to know she has, sir."

Jonas shook his head, "You're a very bad influence on my daughter, Mr. Roemer." When Thule started to protest, he raised a hand, " Thule , please allow me this one, small illusion, for the sake of my sanity."

"Yes, sir," said Thule .

"How's your project going?" Jonas asked.

"It's coming to a head," said Thule . Then, deciding that Jonas must be afraid of listening devices, he added, "I'm going into the city today to trigger the deployment phase."

Jonas nodded, "So, I understand that Ivan Vandevoort is pretty unhappy with you."

Thule 's blood froze, but he decided to make a go of it, "Not as unhappy as I suspect he's going to be."

"This matter that Ivan is so unhappy with you about," said Jonas, "Have you kept my stepdaughter appraised of it?"

Thule suddenly realized that Jonas's hands were gripping his putter so hard that the knuckles were turning white. Carefully and with an eye towards the door, Thule said, "Yes, sir. I have."

Jonas let out a deep sigh that caused his putt to go wide and roll under his desk, "I assumed as much. You wouldn't be inclined to put my mind to rest on that matter, would you?"

"No, sir," said Thule .

"Again, I suspected you were going to say that." He bent down to retrieve the ball, "Marigold has some very unusual ideas. I wish I could believe that they originated with you, but they don't seem to be thought through well enough for that to be very probable. A long time ago, I told Marigold that she could talk to me about anything that was going on in her life. If I had known at the time what she would end up telling me, I would have kept my damned mouth shut."

"I understand you're buying her a car," said Thule .

Jonas nodded, "I was thinking back to all of the mischief that I imagined she could get into if she had a car. Now, I find that my imagination was sorely lacking." He shrugged, "She'll need a car in Boston . I figured she should have a chance to learn how to drive better in familiar settings first. Do you disapprove?"

"Not at all," said Thule , "Does she have any experience driving at all?"

"A little bit," said Jonas, "I haven't had the time I wanted to teach her and her mother doesn't drive at all. But, I'm getting her lessons now. I'm getting really good at this whole delegation of parental responsibility thing."

Thule smiled ruefully, "You've done a hell of a job with her so far, sir."

Jonas looked at him, startled, "You know, only a cynical bastard like you could deliver that line in such a way as to make me believe you meant it."

-=-

Uncharacteristically, Thule decided to leave the radio off on the way to New York . Normally, he would have taken the opportunity to listen to the news and see if anything pertinent to the Vandevoorts was happening. But, he was tired of hearing about the Vandevoorts. He'd finally gotten enough sleep, but he was still dead tired. No amount of sleep would ever take the kind of tired he felt right now away. Handing his evidence off to the FBI would get rid of some of it. In spite of that, the idea that he might be able to give up this obsession soon and just be normal left him feeling scared and empty. He'd been a normal high school student for less than four months. At the time, he'd been below the radar, a nobody. Until a few weeks ago, he'd thought that was what he wanted.

The fantasy still held some appeal. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to spend the next four years as a high tech ascetic, locked away in the hallowed halls of MIT. It certainly had to be an improvement on the revenge business. People rarely shot at electrical engineers. Of course, girls like Marigold rarely slept with electrical engineers, either. She's fallen hard for him because she thought he was a bad boy. He'd been doing the bad boy routine for so long that he sometimes forgot that it was an act. Marigold was already becoming wilder than he knew what to do with. How much longer would she stick around once she realized that he would rather be home reading than running himself ragged weaving an unstable web of lies that he could barely keep up with.

As well as he could, Thule put those concerns aside. He had to finish this. He could worry about the rest of his life later. Parking a little way south of City Hall, he walked the half dozen blocks to Federal Plaza .

As he got near his goal, Thule stopped at one of the ubiquitous wheeled stands to buy a cup of coffee and a buttered bagel. Taking up a vantage point on a bench that faced the monolithically ugly 26 Federal Plaza, he sipped his coffee and checked his cell phone. It read "8:42."

In the crush of morning commuters, no one paid him any mind. There were over one hundred federal agencies at number 26 and a thousand legitimate reasons for a young man in dress pants, shirt and tie to be sitting outside, sipping coffee and eating a bagel.

Thule was steeling himself to go inside. There was a weak point to his plan here and he still hadn't found a way to avoid it. It was common wisdom that the FBI was untouchable and incorruptible. Thule had no faith in common wisdom. The Vandevoorts seemed to have friends everywhere else. While he didn't know of any friends of theirs in the Bureau, it seemed foolhardy to presume that they didn't have any. Thule was about to tip his hand and pray that the person he tipped it to didn't go running to Ivan with it.

He still had yet to come up with a better plan than walking in the front door and giving what he had to the first agent that would listen to him. He debated driving down to Washington DC to go to national headquarters, but he would have to fly back if he were going to make his appointment with Ivan. Or, he could do the same thing with Boston . But, he had no guarantee that either office would be less likely to have a Vandevoort ally in it.

While he was considering this, the solution walked right past him. Thule recognized her face, but her hair was different today and she was wearing more. Unfortunately, the realization of how he knew her didn't come until she was long gone.

Thule wondered if dumb luck really went so far. Maybe she was just some functionary from the Small Business Administration or Census who occasionally liked to cut loose. But, no. Thule was reasonably sure his momentary glance to confirm identity had taken in an FBI identity badge clipped to her smart, gray suit. He hoped he wasn't remembering something that hadn't been there out of desperation. He wished he'd looked closely enough to see a name on the badge. He doubted the one that he knew was real.

Thule suspected there was an internal cafeteria in number twenty-six. He hoped it wasn't very good. Without leaving the plaza, he bought himself a copy of the Wall Street Journal and a pair of cheap sunglasses and waited. Around eleven thirty, he had read every article in the paper at least twice. But, he noticed that people with federal ID cards were starting to leave the building, first at a trickle, but building to a steady stream. Thule watched them openly, as if he were waiting for someone specific which, of course, he was.

Around one o'clock, the stream of people seemed to thin out and Thule wondered if he had missed her or she wasn't coming out. If she'd chosen to eat lunch inside the building or not to eat lunch at all, Thule might have to go ahead with his original plan of walking in and praying that he got an honest agent.

At one forty, she emerged from the building, sipping from a bottle of Diet Coke. Thule stood up, stretching his legs and lighting a cigarette. She was engaged in animated conversation with a man in his early forties, also wearing an FBI badge. As they passed by him, Thule 's stopped breathing. She glanced at his as if trying to figure out who he was, but the dark glasses and hands cupped over his mouth seemed to be enough that it was no more than a glance and he saw no recognition in her eyes.

He did get a chance to see the name on her badge now. Damned if she hadn't used her real name. Once they were past, Thule turned and followed them at a distance. They were headed downtown, still talking, oblivious to his presence.

Thule knew he was taking an enormous risk. Trailing a couple of FBI agents might be taken in an unfavorable light. Considering where Thule knew the young agent from, she might be the Vandevoorts' mole inside the Bureau. But, it didn't feel right.

Still, he hoped she wasn't going to lunch with the other agent. If she was, he would have to trust two people with what he knew and he'd never seen the older agent before.

For a minute, he lost sight of her in the Wall Street lunchtime crowd, but she was distinctive looking enough that he caught sight of her again right outside of Trinity Church. She turned west, heading towards the World Trade Center , alone now. Thule followed her. Now that she was alone, he closed the distance between them, ready to approach her.

Then, he turned the corner and there she was, standing in the shadow of Trinity's cemetery wall. Thule almost bumped into her. She had stopped and was facing him.

As he stopped short, she stepped right into him. Thule felt something press into his belly.

"Mr. Roemer," she said evenly, "I have a revolver pressed to your stomach. Please don't try anything stupid."

Thule 's blood ran cold, but he flashed a winning smile, "Matika, it's good to see you again. But, unless your revolver is leaking, you've got a bottle of Diet Coke pressed to my stomach."

Then, he heard the click behind him and another voice say, "Good catch, but I assure you that this gun is real."

Thule sighed and looked over his shoulder. It was the older agent.

"Don't move," said the man, "Keep your hands where I can see them." As he spoke, he gave Thule an efficient patdown. Between him and Matika, they kept what they were doing out of the eyes of people passing by. Of course, this was New York . They probably could have slammed him against the wall and done the patdown and people would have pretended not to notice.

Thule said, "If you reach into the outer pocket of my laptop case, there's a manila envelope with some photos in it. You'll want to see them."

The man gestured with his head. Matika stepped wide around him and retrieved the envelope. She opened it and pulled out the short stack of 8 1/2 x 11 photo printouts. Thule knew which one was on top.

Matika's eyes widened. She took a few seconds, her gaze flickering over different elements.

"It's okay, John," she said quietly. "I think he's on our side."

Thule 's shoulders sagged with relief. Not taking the gun from Thule 's back, John took the stack of pictures from Matika. After a few seconds, Thule felt the gun withdrawn from his back.

John was looking at the pictures one by one. He asked, "Where the hell did you get these?"

"From an Atech-Terra VSHR-1700," said Thule, "that I planted in the girls' locker room in the Mannsborough High School this Saturday."

"So," asked John, "you're a pervert?"

"Probably," said Thule , "but I put the camera there specifically to catch Randy Vandevoort in the act of leading a gang rape. I would have preferred to stop him."

"So," asked John, "why were you following Agent Nazarov?"

Thule smiled, "Because she's investigating the Vandevoorts."

Both agents stiffened. Matika said, "No one is investigating the Vandevoorts. The Bureau is not in the business of engaging in personal vendettas against this country's most respected citizens."

By the way John winced, Thule suspected Matika was quoting something. He said, "You were at the party Saturday night. You were one of the ringers. Mrs. Vandevoort introduced you to me."

Matika's eyes narrowed, "Yeah. And then you promptly screwed up all the groundwork I'd done with her. I hope she was worth it."

"Groundwork?" asked Thule .

Matika didn't answer him, "Is that all you've got on the Vandevoorts?"

"No," said Thule , "I've got plenty more with me and duplicates of it in several locations. I've been watching them for almost four years."

"Son of a bitch," said John in wonder.

"Is there somewhere we can go that I can show you what I've got?" asked Thule , "It will take a while."

-=-

Thule sat at the conference table, looking out the window at the incredible view of the city as his laptop booted up. From ninety-seven stories up, he could see up into the thirties, the Empire State Building clearly outlined against the skyline, even though visibility was not the best.

John and Matika had led him to the World Trade Center and up to the offices of what looked like a small investment firm. They'd taken off their badges identifying themselves as FBI somewhere along the line. When they'd walked in to the firm's office, the receptionist had referred to John as "big brother" or maybe "Big Brother." Thule wondered which.

The conference room was equipped with a plethora of high-tech anti-surveillance equipment, which John efficiently activated. As he did, Matika made a few seemingly trivial phone calls regarding birthday parties and free kittens.

Finally, John said, "You can speak freely now. What have you got for us?"

Thule popped the first DVD into his laptop. For the purpose of this presentation, he had chosen a DVD of his most damning evidence against the Vandevoorts, "Ivan Vandevoort is expecting me at the Mannsborough gun club at six p.m. I have to be out of here in an hour and a half at the latest."

Matika said, "You'll stay as long as we need you."

Thule shook his head violently, "No. I'll stay as long as I can. Everything here is encrypted with a 1024-bit key that requires my password and biometrics. Let me make something clear. I know that I am an amateur at this. To you two, I'm probably just some dilettante mucking around where I don't belong. If you try to treat me as such, you're not getting a damned thing from me."

Matika leaned down, trying to menace Thule . It might have worked better if her blouse had not fallen forward, making eye contact difficult, "You could get in a lot of trouble for not cooperating."

Thule scowled, "I don't think so. I get a strong sense you two are not working with the blessing of the Bureau. You're being balked by higher ups who are themselves either in bed with the Vandevoorts or being pressured by someone in Washington who is. You've got maybe a half dozen allies inside the Bureau on this. You won't go through the courts to get me in trouble and, if you are the types to play rough, I've got confederates who will release copies of everything I have to the media and local law enforcement if I don't tell them not to in the next few days. Besides," he let his eyes run up and down Matika's body, "you really should be the good cop. You're much prettier than John."

Matika stood up abruptly, flushed. John said, "Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick." Thule thought he heard admiration in the older man's voice.

"I have to leave in an hour and a half," said Thule , "It's important. I'll leave you with copies of what I can't cover today. I've been very thorough. I know how high Ivan's influence goes. It doesn't matter."

Now that he had their undivided attention, Thule typed in the meaningless sixteen character code that unlocked the password protection on the first DVD. A prompt came up that said, "Verify Biometrics." Thule pressed his thumb into the laptop's touchpad, holding it there until the prompt vanished. The touchpad was standard. There was no biometric verification. Those systems were too expensive. But, the agents didn't know that.

Thule started out showing an abbreviated recording of the rape of June Kane. It played out through the overhead onto a large white screen covering half of one wall. Thule had cut the recording down to just under four minutes. Fully three quarters of it, she was screaming threats or begging them to stop. He kept the sound high. It filled the room. He let half of it run, not saying anything, watching the agents become more and more uncomfortable. He let them squirm. He needed a visceral as well as an intellectual response. Finally, he stood to one side using a red laser pointer. He explained who everyone was and the context of what was happening.

In the middle of his explanation, there was a soft knock at the conference room door. Thule paused the presentation. Four more people, three women and a man, came in. They were dressed in conservative suits and ranged in age from early thirties to late fifties. Thule had paused the presentation with the three cops passing Jane between them. Randy looked on, smirking. As they came in, each one looked up at the screen. Their reactions ranged from carefully-controlled rage to slack horror. One of the women, looking to be about forty, gasped and covered her mouth.

Once they'd all sat, Thule went on. He let the tape run until Randy pushed June. He hadn't edited the dull thud of her head hitting the bench, but it sounded elongated to him and echoed through the room. The agents gasped as one, only John more or less maintaining his composure.

"I edited this down," said Thule , "for the presentation. A perfect copy of the original recording is on one of the DVDs I'll be handing over to you. It was taken with an Atech-Terra VSHR-1700 penpoint camera one of the many features of which is a tamper-proof timing and GPS system guaranteed accurate to less than a tenth of a second and sixteen hundred square meters. Atech-Terra has spent tens of millions of dollars making sure that the time and GPS can't be faked and has provided extensive legal support to make sure that it is admissible in a court of law."

Next, Thule switched to a scan of one of the memos Dr. Edmonton had given him, then a quick pass through the others. Then, he cut to a composite of some of the imperfect blacking out and two instances where names had been missed side by side with an analysis of what letters were confirmed. The next shot was an overlay of a list of names of girls from Mannsborough who had been listed as runaways. The next screen was another composite--a half dozen newspaper obituaries and two coroner's reports. He went through them silently.

The next picture was an overhead shot of the pool area on the Vandevoort Estate. Thule said, "There are six men in this picture. One is Ivan Vandevoort. The others are in violation of anti-racketeering laws by being within five hundred feet of each other. Thule let the tape run. Most of the words were lost, but it was clear that they were discussing business. Thule knew that this was a weak piece of evidence, but no one spoke up to point that out. They were still rattled by what they'd seen before. Next, Thule worked quickly through a number of news articles about various Vandevoort subsidiaries engaged in minor malfeasances. Then, he showed a series of documents, bills of lading, memos, packing lists, and assorted details that painted a picture of smuggling and money laundering. The agents were nodding and frowning now. They'd seen most of what Thule was showing them and knew it wasn't enough to build a case on.

Thule took a deep breath, "I know what you're all probably thinking. There's not enough here to get a conviction on the corporate charges. I'm no legal expert, but I know that you don't go after a man as powerful as Ivan Vandevoort with a case that sounds like a one-shot episode of the X Files."

"But," he went on, "I believe that what evidence I have on his son, Randy Vandevoort, and the extensive measures to which Ivan went to cover up his son's activities is enough to implicate more than a dozen of Ivan's closest advisors on enough conspiracy and accessory charges to put them away for life at the very least. I've spent the last four years of my life watching, collecting, and gathering information. I know that I don't have the first bit of training in this area. I probably made a thousand mistakes, corrupted evidence to the point of inadmissibility, scared off people who might have been willing to talk. I'm sorry for that."

He took a deep breath, "What you've seen is less than a tenth of what I've collected. Everything I have is on these DVDs." He held up a stack of a dozen shiny disks in individual plastic cases, then put them down in front of Matika, "In addition to what's there, I have access to more than two dozen people who have told me they will come forward to testify about Randy's activities and Ivan's cover up of them if a real case is made. I don't know how many will, but I believe at least six would do damned near anything to bring them down."

Exhaustion washing over him, Thule sat down heavily in a chair behind him, "In addition to what's on those DVDs, I was contacted last night by Brianne Cole, a close confederate of Randy Vandevoort's who procured many of the women he raped over the last four years." On the mention of Brianne's name, a couple of agents nodded, "She asked me to kill her boyfriend, Ian Kelly, for twenty five thousand dollars. I told her I knew someone who would do it for her. I need to bring her someone before this weekend. She currently believes that Randy Vandevoort betrayed her. I have no doubt that she would testify if you had a conspiracy to commit murder charge hanging over her head. I also believe that Ivan has a lot of bodies buried somewhere near Mannsborough. I am speaking literally. If need be, I think I've figured out a way to find where the bodies are buried."

He switched to the last screen of the presentation. It showed the sixteen character code he had typed in to access the DVDs, "This is the code to unlock what's on the DVDs I just gave to Agent Nazarov. Unless clearly marked, I have originals of all of the documents scanned there. If anyone here is a mole for the Vandevoorts, I should tell you that it's too late to stop this information getting out. I hired a junk mailer to send out unencrypted, minorly expurgated copies of these DVDs to over one hundred reporters, conspiracy theorists, Internet pornographers, prosecutors, federal judges, FBI agents, CIA agents, INTERPOL agents, and the national director of the Boy Scouts of America, who I know personally to be a man of integrity. This mailing will happen in thirty days, regardless of what happens here today."

He stood up and on shaky legs, walked over to turn on the light. Everyone in the room started trying to talk at once until John raised his hands for silence. Then, he turned to Thule , "Mr. Roemer, could you step out of the room for a few minutes while I discuss this with the other agents?"

Thule looked at his cell phone, "Keep it brief, please. One way or another, I've got to leave in forty minutes to meet Ivan Vandevoort at a firing range and discuss the matter of why I slept with his wife." He slipped out as everyone stared at him in stunned silence.

Outside the room, he leaned back against the wall and let himself slide down until his legs had enough strength to hold him up. He was quaking all over with relief and exhaustion. He'd done what he could. Now, it was in the hands of the six people on the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath, Thule levered himself to his feet, calmed his nerves, and went off looking for a bathroom. The receptionist handed him a key and pointed the way.

When he handed the key back, the receptionist said, "Are you a friend of my brother's?"

Thule laughed, "That's a tricky question."

"Oops," said the receptionist, "Forget I asked. I'm not supposed to know anything about all that cloak and dagger stuff."

Matika emerged from the back, "There you are," she said to Thule , "I was afraid you made a run for it."

Thule shook his head in the negative, "Too late for that now." Then, he followed her back down the hall. When they were almost back at the office, he asked, "How's it going in there?"

"John is making the case that you're running an elaborate hoax," said Matika, "but I don't think he really believes it. Nobody's really sure what to make of you. Most of them would give their eye teeth to be able to put together an investigation like the one you ran on your own. What on Earth possessed you to do all that? You must have spent thousands of hours and tens of thousands of dollars on this investigation. The camera you used to record that first rape you showed us sells for like twenty thousand dollars."

Thule explained about Maya all the way from her rape by Randy Vandevoort to yesterday. Matika watched with big, sympathetic eyes. When he finished, she nodded, "Everyone in there has a personal grudge against the Vandevoorts. John's been investigating them for over five years and knew almost nothing about Randy's activities. What you've given us is invaluable, although he's spitting nails about the thirty-day limit you've put on him to begin prosecution."

Thule shrugged. The claim of a mass mailing had been a red herring. Mass producing and mailing those DVDs would have cost over ten thousand dollars and probably been easily traceable. He'd said it deliberately to rush them and to take some heat off of anyone looking for a single confederate, like Jonas, whose job is was to distribute the files if Thule failed.

"Do you know what happened to Svetlana Vandevoort?" asked Matika.

"She's in New York, staying with someone," said Thule , "I have a contact number for her that was good as of yesterday."

Matika's eyes hardened, "Did you really sleep with her?" When Thule nodded, she said, "If I get my hands on her, I'm going to wring her neck."

Thule raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"That bitch slipped me ecstasy," said Matika, "I barely made it out of there in one piece."

Thule repressed the urge to chuckle, "That was pretty ballsy, going to that party. It could have been a lot worse."

Matika shuddered, "I know. But, I had to get in there. We got a huge amount of information about the structure of the family's operations while I was there."

"I hope you don't get too much grief from your partner," said Thule , "If I'd realized he didn't know you were at the party on Saturday, I would have tried to avoid mentioning it."

Matika's face went blank, "Has anyone told you how unnerving it is when you do that?"

"What?" asked Thule .

"How did you know I hadn't told John I was at the party yet?" asked Matika.

Thule would have told her, but John stuck his head out into the hallway and waved them back in.

As Thule began to gather his things up, John said, "First off, I wanted to thank you for what you brought us today. I can't begin to tell you how valuable it is. I'm slightly annoyed that you've forced the Bureau's hand on the timing of the prosecution, but I suppose that I understand why you felt the need to do it."

Thule slid the presentation DVD out of the laptop, brought out a hole punch and popped a half dozen holes in it before snapping it into quarters and throwing one quarter into the trash. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel a surge of real hope that the FBI would actually take him seriously and help him.

"There's no way that the Bureau will be able to ignore the video you showed us. But, it could be spun in such a way as to limit the damage to Randy. Were you serious about knowing where Ivan has bodies buried?"

"That's not what I said," answered Thule , "I said that I think I can find where the bodies are buried."

"How?" asked John.

"I can't go into the details now," said Thule , "but I'll get Vladi to show me."

John said, "I really think you should tell me."

Thule shook his head, "It's not anything you can help with. Telling you would be an unnecessary risk. But, I believe I can do it."

John gave him a pained look, then said, "Fine. About the cheerleader who wants to off her boyfriend, we have a problem."

Thule waited patiently, slipping laptop into its case and closing the velcro tabs.

"We don't have anyone we can use to pretend to be the killer," said John, "We're all pretty identifiable as FBI agents. We're pretty sure Ivan knows all of us have an interest in his activities." He glared at Matika when he said that, "And we can't trust anyone else in the agency. It'll take us at least a week to recruit someone who can do it."

"I don't have a week," said Thule . "If I haven't done it by this weekend, she's going to know I'm not serious about it."

"Do you know anyone who she would believe is willing to do it?" asked John.

"Yeah," said Thule after less than ten seconds, "I know someone I can use."

"Great. If you can get us the live cheerleader and a few bodies, we should be ready to prosecute," John looked around the room, "Everyone should get back to the office. I don't want to blow this one by having someone figure out that we're all out together."

Thule didn't bother to try to leave. Once everyone had filed out, John turned to him, "Have you ever considered a career in the Bureau?"

Thule laughed. It seemed an odd time to be recruited, "No, sir. I don't see law enforcement in my furture."

John frowned, "Why not?"

Thule said, "I did what I did because of a promise. I followed the law because I was able to do so and still accomplish what I needed to. But, if it came down to a choice between breaking the law and failing, I would have broken the law in a second. I may yet do so. Besides, there are plenty of laws in this country that I could not, in good conscience, enforce. Someone whose job it is to uphold the law should have more respect for it than I do."

John chuckled, "I think you may have an overly rosy view of law enforcement."

Thule 's face was stony, "If what Randy and Ivan did weren't illegal, I would have just blown their fucking heads off. I damned near did on a number of occasions anyway."

John shook his head sadly, "You're going to be a dangerous man one day, aren't you, Mr. Roemer?"

Thule shook his head in the negative, "Not me. This is my one and only foray into this sort of thing. After I'm done with the Vandevoorts, I'm just a mathematician."

-=-

Despite his best efforts, traffic and bad luck conspired to keep Thule from the Mannsborough Gun Club until twelve minutes after six p.m. He checked in with the guard at the front gate who directed him to one of the distant rifle ranges, far away from the main club.

Thule knew that John was watching him from a distance or would be soon. The agent had tried to convince him to cancel the meeting with Ivan, but Thule knew that he couldn't and recommended that John watch it from a distance.

"I can't protect you if he decides to shoot you," said John, "It's going to be much harder to bring the Vandevoorts down if you're dead."

"I know," said Thule , "but if you see him do it, you'll have him on murder one, which is a damned good start."

Thule liked John. The man hadn't bothered to tell him that he was uncomfortable using someone as young as Thule for this sort of thing, knowing that he was going to anyway. He also understood that warning Thule about ruining the Vandevoort prosecution would carry more weight than warning him that he could get himself killed. Because haste was of the essence, Thule had ended up lending the agent his camera and shotgun microphone.

As he strode up to the platform, Thule saw Jake breathe a noticeable sigh of relief. Jonas was standing there with a high-powered rifle, the accessories on which had probably cost a low five figures. It wasn't the sort of gun you used for target practice. It was the kind of gun you used when you wanted to make sure you didn't miss something at long range...or when you wanted to show what a great marksman you were without actually possessing any real skill.

Besides Ivan and Jake, Randy, Vil Umanski and a bored-looking Russian girl wearing headphones, maybe in her late teens or early twenties sat under the awning. Randy held a rifle far more appropriate to target shooting. Jake held two and handed one to Thule as he came up the stairs.

Thule checked the rifle as he took firing position next to Ivan, making sure that it was in working order and there was a live round in the breach.

"You're late, Mr. Roemer," said Ivan, lining up the laser sight on a man-shaped paper target fifty yards away. He fired, the shot hitting about a half inch below and an inch to the left of the white cross indicating dead center.

"Unavoidable," said Thule . He lined his own rifle up by line of sight on the next target over, took a deep breath, and fired. His bullet hit less than a quarter inch away from dead center.

For some reason, Ivan glared at Jake before continuing, "I don't suppose you were in New York visiting my ex-wife."

Thule fired three more shots in rapid succession, a satisfyingly tight cluster around dead center, "And why would I do that?"

Ivan raised his rifle, the red tracking dot going past the target and up the backdrop. Thule noticed a detail he had missed up until now. There was a little silver Mercedes parked on top of the backstop, headlights and hazards on. As Thule realized this, Ivan fired, knocking out one of the headlights.

"You missed," said Thule , acting nonplussed.

"Not at all," said Ivan, "I'm just getting rid of something I don't need anymore. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Take a shot at it. It's very cathartic."

"No, thank you," said Thule , "I hate to see something beautiful wasted for ugly purposes."

Ivan fired another shot, taking out the front, passenger-side window. Then, he turned to Thule , "Maybe you'd like to keep it, then? If you can't afford to fix the damage I've done, I'm sure I could lend you some money for repairs."

Thule realized now that this must be Svetlana's car, the one he'd seen the keys for on his living room floor. He allowed himself a couple of seconds to wish that he could take Ivan up on his offer. He desperately needed a new car. His was more than twenty years old, the engine held together with significant amounts of gaffer's tape and bailing wire. Then, he put the rifle down. It wasn't high caliber enough and the single-shot action didn't allow for what he was going to do next.

Dropping into a more stable firing stance, Thule pulled his own handgun out of the back of his pants, flipped off the safety, targeted and fired. At this range, a handgun was not the best for accuracy, but if he emptied the clip, he should hit what he was aiming for.

The lights were on and exhaust coming out of the tailpipe. That meant there was enough fuel to run the car. Thule 's handgun roared into life, much louder than the rifles they'd been using. The first shot hit the gas cap. The second and third were lower, closer to his target. The fourth entered the tank and, a split-second later, the car exploded in a satisfying fireball.

Thule put his gun back and looked around. Vil and Jake had flattened themselves to the ground. Randy had dropped his rifle. Ivan stood, looking stunned, crouched down with his hands over his ears. The Russian girl looked puzzled and took off her headphones.

Thule waited until Ivan opened his mouth to speak before cutting him off.

"Thanks for the offer," he said, picking up the rifle again, "but I don't need your leftovers."

Ivan scowled mightily, but proceeded to fall into the conversational trap Thule had set for him, "Obviously," he said, "this is a recent development."

Thule 's grin was feral, "Is that's what bothering you, Ivan? Are you afraid I fucked your wife?"

Ivan's face started to get red, "I know you fucked my wife."

Thule nodded, "Damned straight I did. I fucked her good and hard, too. She said it was much better than you'd ever managed." Ivan was too apoplectic to speak, so Thule went on, "I didn't think you'd have a problem with it. You treated her like a whore, so I treated her like a whore."

Thule was counting on the idea that Ivan wouldn't shoot him for being with Sveta because to do so would be to admit that Thule had taken something of value from him. On the other hand, he may have pushed the man beyond his ability to reason. He hoped John was watching and recording this. If Ivan did turn the rifle on Thule , it was really a bad weapon for such close range. Thule should have enough time to step closer in, draw his pistol and fire. At point-blank range, it would blow a fairly large hole in Ivan. If he had time for a second shot, he would take out Umanski, then hope that Randy was too stunned to fire while he went for cover or that Jake would cover Randy once he figured out what was going on.

Ivan loosened his grip on the rifle. As evenly as he could, he said, "She is a whore."

Thule shrugged, "All the more reason not to treat her like one. You may not have noticed, but your wife really likes sex and she's very, very good at it. They don't get that good overnight." He pointed to the girl with the headphones, "This new one you got, she's going to have to be trained all over again." Not understanding what Thule was saying, the girl waved at him. He went on, "Give her about three or four years of seasoning and she'll be prime fucking material. Maybe I'll look her up after you've trained her."

For the first time since he'd started this conversation, Thule caught sight of Randy. Instead of the look of deadly rage he'd expected, Thule saw that Randy was shaking with the effort of suppressing laughter. Vil Umanski looked bored, which Thule assumed meant that he was watching everything very carefully. Jake looked like he desperately wanted to be anywhere but here.

Thule imagined how Ivan had planned for this evening to play out. He would spend some time shooting the car until Thule begged to be allowed to keep it. Then, he would introduce Thule to the new girl, demonstrating how little he missed Svetlana. Bereft of any of those plans, Ivan instead managed to sputter, "I didn't order you here to talk about my wife."

Thule decided not to push his luck any farther today, "So, why did you invite me here?"

Ivan seemed lost without a script. Randy stepped forward, "Take a ride with me. We have a couple of HR requests we'd like you to fill."

It was with some trepidation that Thule walked down the long dirt path and got into Randy's car, shifting his pistol from back to front. As soon as the car doors closed, Randy put his head down on the steering wheel and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Apparently, whatever affection he'd developed for Svetlana was trumped by his animosity towards his father.

When he finally got his breath back, Randy started the car and said, "Postal, you really are a crazy motherfucker. He's going to kill you one of these days."

Thule shook his head, "Fuck that. Maybe when he was younger he would have, but he's all talk now."

Randy laughed. He obviously liked the idea, "I don't know, man. I thought he was going to strangle you with his bare hands back there."

"Randy," said Thule , "don't take this the wrong way, but if he'd tried, I would have blown his fucking head off."

Randy laughed again, "I hope you didn't stop yourself on my account."

Thule decided to draw him out a little farther, "What do you mean?"

Randy's face got serious. Then, he shrugged, "The will is written. Something happens to him, it's all mine. If you had blown his head off..." he trailed off and shrugged again.

Thule laughed, "Yeah. It would be just peachy for you. But, I've got plans that do not involve going to jail."

Randy waved away his concern, then said seriously, "You wouldn't go to jail. I would make sure of it."

Thule said, "Thanks, but no. You know, if you really wanted him dead, you could do it yourself."

They drove in silence for almost a minute after that before Randy said, "Nah. I can be patient."

Thule laughed, "Sure. Sure. He's what, forty two?" He acted like he was doing the math, "If he retires at sixty five, you can take over when you're...about his age."

"Right," said Randy.

"Does he plan to retire at sixty-five?" asked Thule .

"He hasn't discussed it," said Randy.

"You know," said Thule , "It's a real shame the way things turned out with Svetlana. I know she's a little screwed up, but he really shouldn't have treated her the way he did."

Again the rode in silence. They'd done about half the circuit of the inner ring of the gun club's grounds when Randy said, "No. That was definitely uncool."

Thule decided he'd pushed hard enough, "So, what did your old man want you to talk to me about?"

Randy looked more animated now, "Open the glove compartment," he said. Thule did. There was a bulging manila envelope in there, "There are three people he'd like you to find places for inside of Tarr. And, there's ninety kay in cash, as your finder's fee. He also wants you to try to get the first guy you placed into a better position. He's useless where he is. My father says the fee is non-negotiable. Take it or leave it."

Thule chuckled, "I guess it's not a bad fee for an afternoon worth of work."

Randy said, "You know, you could buy two of those Mercedes for what's in that envelope."

Thule nodded, "I'm sure your father knew that too. I suspect the idea was to get me to betray Sveta by taking the car, then make me feel like I'd done it for nothing by giving me the money."

"Yeah," said Randy, "that sounds like him. But, how the hell did you figure that out? You haven't been spying on us, have you?"

Thule laughed, but said nothing.

-=-

After he'd retrieved his equipment from John and been reprimanded for trying to get himself killed, Thule headed home. It wasn't even eight o'clock yet, but he felt like he just wanted a shower and sleep.

Seeing the living room light on, Thule reached for his pistol before he remembered that Dawn was living with him now. When he came in, she looked up from the couch, where she was watching TV, "How did it go?"

Thule slid the handgun out of his waistband and laid it on the living room table. Then, he crouched down and took the manila envelope out of the laptop case. He upended it, letting the cash slide out next to the car. Dawn's eyes widened, "It went better than I expected."

"How much is that?" Dawn asked.

"Roughly?" asked Thule , "About four years of MIT."

"The FBI paid you?" asked Dawn.

"No," said Thule , "I had a meeting with Ivan Vandevoort afterwards. That's for placing industrial spies inside of Jonas's company."

Dawn looked alarmed, "And you're going to do it?"

Thule said, "Jonas knows I'm doing it." He walked into the bedroom and came out a few seconds later with a small, black box. As he talked, he started to disassemble and clean the pistol, "We bring in Ivan's spies, put them where they can't do much damage, then feed them misinformation, which they report back as fact."

Dawn seemed fascinated by what Thule was doing with the pistol, "Why are you taking the gun apart? Is it broken?"

"No," said Thule , "I'm cleaning it. When you own a gun, you always want to keep it clean and oiled. A dirty gun can jam or blow up in your face. I clean this one every Sunday."

"Today's Tuesday," pointed out Dawn.

"I also clean it after it's been fired," said Thule .

"You fired it today?" asked Dawn, alarmed again.

"Down at the firing range," said Thule , "Just a few practice shots."

"Could I learn to clean it?" asked Dawn.

"Why?" asked Thule .

"I want to be useful around here," said Dawn, "And, it would be cool. I'd feel like a gangster's moll, cleaning your guns."

"I only have one," said Thule . Taking up the pistol, he showed Dawn how to seat and unseat the clip, how to determine if the gun was loaded or not, and how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble it. Then, he walked her through the process herself. At first, he'd had the idea that Dawn might have asked as a way to try to seduce him. But, she seemed enthralled now.

"Could you teach me to shoot?" she asked.

"Sure," said Thule .

Dawn's eyes widened, "Really?"

Thule nodded, "Sure. We could go down to the club this weekend."

"What about now?" Dawn asked.

"The club is closed after eight," said Thule , "and I've had enough of that place today."

"Couldn't we just go out back and shoot?" asked Dawn.

"We could," said Thule , "but a high-caliber pistol like this can fire a bullet a good half mile if it doesn't hit something. So, I wouldn't recommend it."

"Oh," said Dawn, sounding disappointed.

Thule filled and reseated the clip. Now that he had time to relax, he realized he hadn't eaten anything since the bagel this morning. He asked, "Did you eat?"

Dawn nodded, "I didn't know when you were going to be home. I had some of that stir fry you had in the freezer. I made enough for two, though. It just needs heating up."

"Great," said Thule , rising, "Where is it?"

"I'll take care of it," Dawn said. "You put away the guns and money and get washed up."

"You know," said Thule , "if you keep spoiling me, I could start to get used to it."

"I'll take my chances," said Dawn. "Now, go get ready."

Thule took the cash up to the attic. As he put it away, he stared at the contents of the lockbox. There was more than one hundred fifty thousand dollars up there now. Even with tuition, room and board, books, and incidentals, the next four years shouldn't cost that much. Plus, he had a healthy chunk of change in the bank, his savings of the last few years. In the duffel bag, there were a few thousand more. He debated feeling bad about having turned his revenge into such a profitable venture. He decided not to. It was Ivan's money. If Thule didn't take it, it would most likely end up financing another rape for Randy.

Thule went downstairs, put the gun and the duffel bag away, took a shower and changed into sweats and a t-shirt advertising Adobe Illustrator. He would never be able to sleep tonight if he didn't go down to the basement and work off some of his nervous energy on the bench before he got some sleep.

As he followed that train of thought, Thule suddenly remembered what he'd told Dawn this morning. He shook his head at himself.

" Thule ," Dawn called, "dinner's ready."

Thule went out to the table and sat down, "You really don't have to do all this," he said to Dawn.

"I'm just showing my appreciation," said Dawn from behind him as she put the plate down in front of him, "If I were home right now, I'd be locked in my room with the stereo turned up to drown out the fighting."

"Well, I appreciate it," said Thule . He'd already eaten three or four bites when he realized Dawn was still standing right behind him. He turned around.

Dawn was standing there, hand on her hip, amused smile on her face, bare from the waist up. She giggled, "I was wondering when you were going to notice."

"I, uh..." said Thule .

"I know what you're going to say," said Dawn, "once you regain the power of speech. I made dinner because I'm grateful to be here. This," she held her hand palm up in front of her neck, then drew it down as if showcasing her body, "is because I want to--not because I'm grateful or because Marigold wants me to. It makes me happy to be with you, Thule . I want to make you happy, too."

"I, uh..." said Thule again.

"Eat your dinner," said Dawn, "I have a couple of things I have to do before bed." So saying, she padded out of the living room into her room.

"I, uh..." said Thule a third time, but she was already gone. Reaching up to rub his temples, he started eating again. Afterwards, he cleared the dishes away. As he started to wash them, Dawn re-emerged again. She was wearing a black silk robe. Her hair was down and she had washed off her makeup.

" Thule ," she said quietly.

Thule looked up, drying his hands, "Yes, Dawn?"

"I'm tired of waiting for the perfect moment," said Dawn, "I'm tired of playing games. I'm going to ask you something and, if you say no, I'm going to cry."

Thule nodded, approaching her already. His arm was already around her when she spoke.

"Could we go to bed now?" Dawn asked, looking up at him, "Please?"

Thule took Dawn's face in his hand, tilting her head back. He kissed her. Dawn pressed herself against him, lips slightly open. Thule lowered his head to kiss her. It was sweet and gentle, not passionate. That would come soon enough. Mid-kiss, Dawn giggled.

Thule looked down at her, "What?"

"Do you remember when I fainted and you carried me in here?" asked Dawn. Thule nodded. She said shyly, "I wasn't totally unconscious when you did that. And, I really liked it."

Thule chuckled and picked Dawn up, carrying her into his bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not letting go when he laid her down on the bed. She rose to kiss him. Thule kissed her back, less gently this time. As they kissed, he lay down next to her, their bodies pressed close together all along their length. For a long time, they just kissed, over and over again. For once, Thule let himself behave like a high school boy, taking a long time before he even laid a hand on her belly, through the robe. At that point, she'd already stripped off his shirt and lay halfway across him.

Dawn finally broke from the kissing long enough to gasp, " Thule ."

Thule looked at her, amused, "Yes?"

"I appreciate you taking it slow, but you don't have to take it that slow." Her eyes gleamed with desire, "I'm not...well, I mean I am, but I don't have..." She flushed.

Thule leaned up and kissed her again, "I understand. You don't have to explain." He reached down and undid the belt of her robe, then slid his fingers across her bare flesh, pushing aside one side and then the other. Raising himself on one elbow, he kissed her chin, then her throat. Dawn arched her back, exposing her neck to be kissed. Thule lingered in the hollow of her throat, sliding his hand down between her legs. Her downy hair was already damp as he slid his fingers through it and teased one a little way inside of her.

Dawn gasped and arched more. Thule moved his head down to one breast, kissing down it and around the nipple as his finger became more adventurous, first stroking the length of her clit, then probing inside.

Dawn shuddered a little at the touch, "Oh, Thule ," she whispered, then chuckled throatily, "I like that."

Thule nodded, moving his mouth to her nipple, taking it between his lips, his tongue teasing the end of it. Dawn twisted and gave a sound of alarm.

"Too much?" asked Thule .

Dawn nodded, "A little."

Thule pulled his head away, letting his free hand go to her other breast, kneading and massaging it.

"Mmmmm," said Dawn, "that's nice."

Thule let his hands keep doing what they were doing and returned to kissing Dawn. It was much more passionate now. Dawn wrapped her hands around the back of his head and kissed him back.

After a while, Dawn's breathing and pulse were racing. Thule watched her intently, knowing she was ready, but savoring the moment of her readiness. Every once in a while, she would whimper and reach for him, but he would pull away.

As hard as he tried not to, Thule found himself comparing his feelings for Dawn with those he had for Marigold. He cared deeply for Dawn and wanted her intensely right now. But, there was none of the frantic urgency he had when he was with Marigold. It made him a little sad that he couldn't give her the love she deserved, but at the same time, it made what he was doing easier. He wanted her and she wanted him and both of them knew what they were doing and what it meant.

Finally, he turned his body so that he was looming over her. He lowered his head to her breast again, licking and sucking at her nipple. Dawn pressed his head into her, not letting him go.

"Oh, God, Thule ," she said, "You're going to kill me like this. Stop being such a tease."

Thule raised his head, "See how you like it." He slid down her body, kissing her between her legs. She shuddered. He slid his tongue into her. She trembled, "No, Thule ," she said, "I can't take it."

Thule didn't listen, licking her clit up and down in a slow motion. She reached for his hair to try to pull him away, but he didn't have enough hair to grab. Thule could feel her fighting the pleasure, afraid to let go. He dug his tongue deeply into her now, breathing the musk of her arousal in deeply.

"Oh, God," she cried out, "I'm coming." But, she wasn't. She was still pre-orgasmic, still fighting the pleasure. Thule ran his fingertip over her clit now while his tongue continued to probe. For long minutes, he kept at her, relentless, while she whimpered against the pleasure of it, begging him to stop. Finally, Thule slid his finger out of her and buried it in her from behind. Dawn let out a squeal and tried to tense against him, but it was already too late. With a momentary look of betrayal, she let the fight go out of her and came, hard. Thule kept at her, driving the pleasure.

" Thule ," she begged through gritted teeth, "Please fuck me already. I can't take anymore."

Finally, Thule complied, sliding up her body, pulling his hand out of the way. Dawn pressed her hand into the small of his back, urging him onward. Thule entered her. She laughed as he did it.

She had been right. There was no tension, no tearing. Thule felt himself bottom out inside of her without hurting her. It was a tight fit inside of her, but pleasantly so. He began thrusting into her. She pushed his back and raised her hips in time, not letting him be gentle, driving him on, calling out his name. Each thrust came a little faster than the one before until he was pounding into her hard and fast. The sensation of Dawn coming around him, her nails digging into his buttocks, drove Thule over the edge. He came with a shuddering gasp.

Even after he emptied into her, Thule kept thrusting, staying inside of Dawn until he slid out of her on his own. Flopping over onto his back, he drew her into his arms, kissing the top of her head.

"Oh, my God," said Dawn, panting, "I thought you were going to kill me."

Thule chuckled, "I can tell that you're going to be good for my ego."

"Of course," said Dawn, "I have nothing to compare it to."

Thule nodded, "You're right. That might have been mediocre. Maybe I'm saving the really good sex for later."

Dawn nuzzled into his chest, eyes closed and nodded. She was still shuddering a little with aftershocks of pleasure. Thule lay there listening to her breathing until it slowed into sleep.