Bloodless

42

Forty-five minutes later, Agent Coldmoon emerged onto the veranda via the same door through which Constance had exited. He stepped out and glanced around at the evening vista. “Nice. Very nice. How come you’ve got a balcony and I don’t?”

“You used to,” Pendergast replied. “I’m afraid your addiction to burnt, boiled coffee cost you your balcony privileges. Please — have a seat.”

Coldmoon settled into one of the uncomfortable iron chairs. At least the view was pleasing and the night breeze was, for a change, dry and refreshing. He noticed the bottle of calvados, saw one glass was empty.

“Do you mind?” he said, even as he poured himself a large measure.

“Not at all, as long as you appreciate that snifter now contains about forty dollars’ worth of fine calvados, and not peppermint schnapps.”

Coldmoon laughed. “What’s up?” he asked, taking a swig.

“I wanted to give you notice that we’re leaving shortly.”

“Oh?” Coldmoon had never tasted calvados before, and he liked how the faint taste of apple softened the bite of the brandy. “Did you solve the case while sitting out here?”

“We are taking up another avenue of investigation. We’re flying to Portland.”

Coldmoon almost coughed up his drink. “Portland? As in Oregon?”

“That is correct. We need to leave within the hour, if we’re to make a connection in Atlanta for the last flight of the night.”

“But — but that’s on the West Coast!”

“Your knowledge of geography overwhelms me.”

Before Coldmoon could reply, Pendergast continued. “I can imagine the protests you’re likely to make. Let me assure you I wouldn’t suggest this trip if I didn’t think it absolutely necessary. We’ll only be gone one day.”

“What about the investigation here?” Coldmoon said. “We’re at a critical point. And that son of a bitch Drayton? He’s already raising hell about our failure to apprehend a suspect.”

“He will say what he will say.”

“And what about the vampire?” Coldmoon asked with a hint of malice. “What the hell are we to gain from the trip? What’s the purpose?”

“We’ve reached a point in the case where I believe we must go backward in time before we can move forward.”

“You’re talking in riddles again,” said Coldmoon, draining his brandy. “We’re equal partners now — remember?”

Pendergast leaned forward. “Here is why we must make this journey, partner.” He went on to speak in a low voice, in short sentences. Coldmoon, listening, swore first in Lakota, then in English — and then remained quiet until Pendergast sat back once again.

“Okay, Kemosabe,” he said after a silence, rolling his eyes. “That’s some crazy shit. But I’ve been with you long enough not to dismiss it out of hand. I’ll ride shotgun with you. On two conditions. First: if there’s any blowback from this little field trip, you’ll take one for the team.”

“Agreed.”

“And second — Oregon isn’t all that far away from Colorado. I can’t promise you that, once I’m out west, I won’t get a hankering to head for Denver. Where my real job is waiting.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

“In that case, I’d better start packing.” And Coldmoon stood up.

“Armstrong?”

At the sound of his first name, Coldmoon glanced back. “Yeah?”

“Pilámaya.”

“No problem.” And Coldmoon vanished into the hotel.