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“So. Trilogy looks pretty damn good on paper, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“It is good,” Da
“Which is where my ten million comes in. Yes, I get all that. But listen, Da
Da
“That’s the idea, isn’t it?”
“Well…yes.” He was stu
“You’ll make me part of the angel round-I don’t want diluted shares,” he said, “and you’ll give me a seat on the board.”
“Our angel round closed two years ago.”
“It just reopened. I’m not taking B shares, Da
“That can be arranged.”
“Of course it can. And the seat on the board-I had in mind cochairman.”
“Cochairman,” Da
“It’s cochair, a partnership, or you take your dog and pony show on down the road. You want to turn me down, Da
“I mean no disrespect, Stuart. It’s just that I’ve always thought of this as my company. You must know that feeling. And-”
“Of course I do.”
“Exactly!” Da
“Take it or leave it,” Stuart said, interrupting for a second time. “No hard feelings one way or the other, Da
“It’s not a matter of time, it’s a matter of-”
“Time and money, Da
Da
He was saved from the handshake by a knock on the door. Da
Instead, Ailia entered, packed into a pair of white tailored pants, a long-sleeved shiny salmon blouse, and wearing a string of pearls the size of mothballs.
“We’re going to go in for the full ten,” Stuart informed her. He extended his hand again, and this time Da
Da
“Da
Ten
W hy the top secret treatment?” Fiona asked. She sat in the passenger seat of Walt’s Cherokee, its motor rumbling. He’d parked in the lot of the Hemingway School, on the west side of Ketchum, facing an athletic field and an over-forty intramural soccer game.
Walt had changed out of the blood-soaked uniform shirt and into a black SPECIAL TACTICS T-shirt he kept in the back.
“It’s not a favor. You’ll be paid,” he said.
“I’m scheduled to guide on the river most of the weekend.”
“It’s not like that. I want you to loan us your camera gear.”
“You have your own stuff.”
“We don’t have telephoto lenses, and I can’t rent them here in town. The soonest Salt Lake can get them up here is Monday, and I need them today.”
“Because?”
“There was an incident at the C3 opening.”
“I heard.”
“Yeah…so…I got to thinking that if I was a hit man hired to kill Shaler, the best place I could hide would be out in the open.”
“With the protesters.”
“Yes. I need photographs-digital close-ups of every face. There’s a chance I can run them through national databases-facial recognition. Maybe identify this guy-a suspect-in time.”
“I can do that for you.”
“You’re busy.”
“I just made myself unbusy. Randy can guide for me.”
“It’s risky work. Sometimes people don’t like their photograph taken. I’m thinking Brandon.”
“So I’m supposed to loan you my gear and train Tommy Brandon?”
“You’ll be paid.”
“This isn’t point-and-shoot. Not exactly.”
“You can keep it simple though, right? I’ve got a guy in Seattle with the Marshal Service. I need to get these e-mailed to him this afternoon.”
“Then let me do it. Forget teaching Brandon.”
“It could get ugly. I’m not putting you into that.”
“I’m touched,” she said sarcastically. “So, I’ll partner with Brandon.”
Just the words “partner with Brandon ” turned his stomach.
“Face recognition software requires good pictures, Walt. High-quality, full-frontal shots. You think Brandon is going to get this right?”
He was transported back to his imagination: Gail and Brandon sweating in the tight confines of the trailer’s bedroom.
“Earth to Walt,” he heard her say.
“Okay…okay,” he said. “You’ll team up with Brandon,” he agreed. Anything, he thought, to keep Brandon out of that trailer.
Eleven
T revalian’s trick was to put a liberal amount of Vaseline laced with caye
No one would be so impolite as to bounce a blind man, and they did not. A place was set, and he sat through the outdoor luncheon, on the lawn of the Guest House, only three tables away from the woman he’d come to kill. Had he not cared about his own freedom, he might have run a knife through her and been done with it, for the Secret Service agents kept their distance, guarding the perimeter but not the woman. With his semitransparent contacts in place, Trevalian could see well enough to not make a mess of eating.
Prior to dessert he excused himself, having exhausted his Kleenex, and wanting to set the hook. As expected, a Secret Service agent escorted him and Toey to a golf cart that then shuttled him back to the lodge. This planted the dog’s existence firmly in the minds of the agents.
Back in Nagler’s room, Trevalian moved quickly, with a rehearsed system of changing from one man to the other. He locked the appropriate doors, hung out the PRIVACY tags, and then left the rooms and took the stairs to the ground floor.
Trevalian, as hotel guest Meisner, walked hurriedly into the side lot where he’d parked the rental. He drove out onto Sun Valley Road and parked along the bike path with a tourist map unfolded on the steering wheel. Ten minutes later, two black Escalades driving in tandem pulled up to the traffic light. Shaler’s escort.
He followed well back of the Escalades, turned and approached a building marked as the library. The television crews gave away her home. He parked and got out, having not figured on such a scene. There was no way he could get near her house without either being arrested or his face being shown on national television. He studied the suddenly excited reporters and news crews, all swilling Tully’s iced coffees from paper cups. Their enthusiasm, manifested as shouting and screaming, waned as Shaler entered the house without comment. These same news crews would likely be covering the brunch on Sunday. They would be in the room. Now he was the one who felt on edge: jumpy and excited.