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But, "No," I said. "Believe me, when I take possession of those automatic rifles, they are going to vanish off the face of the Earth."
"Neat trick, that," he said, "considering I don't even know where we will be picking them up yet."
"It does not matter."
"Confidence is a fine thing. Then there is foolhardiness... ." He shrugged. "Have it as you say then-your problem."
Then I told him about the ammo and he must have been convinced as to my mental deterioration. He just stared at me for a long while, not even shaking his head this time. It was a good ten minutes before I could even get him to look at the specifications. It was then that he began shaking his head and mumbling about silver bullets and inert primers.
The ultimate arbiter, cash, convinced him we would do it my way, however. There was no trouble on the rifles or the trucks, but persuading an arms factory to produce my ammo was going to be expensive, he told me. He was not even certain he could find one that would be willing. When I told him that the cost was no object, it seemed to upset him even more. If I could afford to indulge in weird, experimental ammo, an end-use certificate would not come to that much-No. I told him no. My way, I reminded him.
He sighed and tugged at the fringe of his mustache. Then he nodded. Very well, we would do it my way.
He overcharged me, of course. Since I was rational in all other matters, the alternative to psychosis would be that I was party to an expensive boondoggle. While the ramifications must have intrigued him, he apparently decided not to look too far into such a sticky-seeming enterprise. He was willing to seize every opportunity I extended for dissociating himself from the project. Once he found the ammo people-a Swiss outfit as it turned out-he was quite willing to put me into contact with them and wash his hands of everything but the money.
Ganelon and I went to Switzerland on fake papers. He was a German and I was Portuguese. I did not especially care what my papers showed, so long as the forgery was of good quality, but I had settled on German as the best language for Ganelon to learn, since he had to learn one and German tourists have always seemed to be all over the place. He picked it up quite rapidly. I had told him to tell any real Germans and any Swiss who asked that he had been raised in Finland.
We spent three weeks in Switzerland before I was satisfied with the quality controls on my ammo. As I had suspected, the stuff was totally inert in this shadow. I had worked out the formula, though, which was all that really mattered at that point. The silver came high, of course. Perhaps I was being over-cautious. Still, there are some things about Amber that are best dispatched with that metal, and I could afford it. For that matter, what better bullet-short of gold-for a king? Should I wind up shooting Eric, there would be no lese-majeste inyolved. Indulge me, brothers.
Then I left Ganelon to shift for himself for a time, since he had thrown himself into his tourist role in a true Stanislavskian fashion. I saw him off to Italy, camera about his neck and a faraway look in his eyes, and I flew back to the States.
Back? Yes. That run-down place on the hillside below me had been my home for the better part of a decade. I had been heading toward it when I was forced off the road and into the accident which led to everything which has since occurred.
I drew on my cigarette and regarded the place. It had not been run-down then. I had always kept it in good shape. The place had been completely paid for. Six rooms and an attached two-car garage. Around seven acres. The whole hillside, actually. I had lived there alone most of the time. I had liked it. I had spent much of my time in the den and in my workshop. I wondered whether the Mori woodcut still hung in my study. Face to Face it was called, and it depicted two warriors in mortal combat. It would be nice to have it back. It would be gone, though, I felt. Probably everything that had not been stolen had been sold for back taxes. I imagined that was what the State of New York would do. I was surprised that the house itself seemed not to have acquired new occupants. I kept watching, to make certain. Hell, I was in no hurry. There was no place else I had to be.
I had contacted Gerard shortly after my arrival in Belgium. I had decided against trying to talk with Benedict for the time being. I was afraid that he would simply try to attack me, one way or the other, if I did.
Gerard had studied me quite carefully. He was out somewhere in open country and he seemed to be alone. "Corwin?" he had said, then, "Yes..."
"Right. What happened with Benedict?"
"I found him as you said he would be and I released him. He was set to pursue you once again, but I was able to persuade him that a considerable time had passed since I had seen you. Since you said you had left him unconscious, I figured that was the best line to take. Also, his horse was very tired. We went back to Avalon together. I remained with him through the funerals, then borrowed a horse. I am on my way back to Amber now."
"Funerals? What funerals?"
Again, that calculating look.
"You really do not know?" he said.
"If I knew, damn it, I would not ask!"
"His servants. They were murdered. He says you did it"
"No," I said. "No. That is ridiculous. Why should I want to murder his servants? I do not understand..."
"It was not long after his return that he went looking for them, as they were not on hand to welcome him. He found them murdered and you and your companion gone."
"Now I see how it looked," I said. "Where were the bodies?"
"Buried, but not too deeply, in the little wood behind the garden to the rear of the house."
Just so, just so... . Better not to mention I had known about the grave.
"But what possisbie reason does he think I could have for doing such a thing?" I protested.
"He is puzzled, Corwin. Very puzzled, now. He could not understand why you did not kill him when you had the chance, and why you sent for me when you could have just left him there."
"I see now why he kept calling me a murderer as we fought, but-Did you tell him what I said about not having slain anyone?"
"Yes. At first he shrugged it off as a self-serving statement. I told him you sounded sincere, and very puzzled yourself. I believe it bothered him a bit that you should be so insistent. He asked me several times whether I believed you."
"Do you?"
He dropped his eyes.
"Damn it, Corwin! What am I supposed to believe? I came into the middle of this. We have been apart for so long..."
He met my gaze.
"There is more to it," he said.
"What is that?"
"Why did you call me to help him? That was a complete deck you took. You could have called any of us."
"You must be joking," I said.
"No, I want an answer."
"Very well. You are the only other one I trust."
"Is that all?"
"No. Benedict does not want his whereabouts known back in Amber. You and Julian are the only two I know for certain to be aware of his location. I don't like Julian, I don't trust him. So I called you."
"How did you know that Julian and I knew about him?"
"He helped you both out when you ran into trouble on the black road awhile back, and he put you up while you recuperated. Dara told me about it."
"Dara? Who is this Dara anyway?"
"The orphaned daughter of a couple who once worked for Benedict," I said. "She was around when you and Julian were there."
"And you sent her a bracelet. You also mentioned her to me by the road, back when you summoned me."
"Correct. What is the matter?"
"Nothing. I do not really remember her, though. Tell me, why did you leave so suddenly? You have to admit, it seemed the act of a guilty man."