Distant Thunder

28

Jack stared at the huge log across Rawls’s driveway, and he was amused. Then the log/gate opened, he drove the Ford wagon in, and the log closed behind him. He was impressed.

As he approached the house the figure of a man appeared on the porch, clutching an exotic-looking rifle with a large scope mounted. Rawls waved him in, then pointed to a spot where he should park. He got out and received a perfunctory handshake.

“I’m Ed Rawls. All the awful stuff you’ve heard about me is probably true.” He opened a door and waved Jack into the house and to a chair, then Rawls closed, bolted, and double-locked the door behind them. “It’s my experience that fewer unwanted visitors come in if I do this. Booze?”

“Scotch, rocks, please.”

“Single malt? I’ve got Laphroaig.”

“Sure.”

Rawls handed him the drink, then fell into the identical chair before the fireplace. “Cute disguise,” he said.

“Thanks. Recently I’ve taken care not to be remembered by the people I meet.”

“I’ve had days like that, too,” Rawls said. “I should have seen your makeup artist.”

“I learned a bit of it at the Farm,” Jack said.

“I must have been hungover that day,” Rawls replied. “Why do you think you need it on an island populated by about sixty people after Labor Day?”

“I don’t know who the sixty are, and I’d rather they didn’t know me, even by sight. Especially by sight,” he added.

“Fair enough. I take it you’ve been warned about the village store?”

“I have.”

“Jimmy’s a nice fella, but once he’s seen you, you might as well be on CNN. In fact, Jimmy is who CNN calls if they hear a rumor of news from up here.”

“I’ll miss my ice cream,” Jack said.

“They’ve got Ben & Jerry’s in cartons. Seth will bring your flavor.”

“Good to know.”

“I read your file,” Rawls said.

Jack blinked. “I didn’t know that was possible,” he said.

“It’s not, but I know my way around the supercomputer. So, you see, I know what you look like at every age, since you were twelve, and from every angle, and with every attempt at a beard.”

“I’m glad you’re not a Russian,” Jack said.

“So am I,” Rawls replied. “In fact, I can’t think of anything I’d rather not be. Which one’s after you?”

“Majorov.”

“Which one?”

“Valery.”

“Every time I hear that name I think of the phrase ‘nasty piece of work.’ ”

“That’s the best description of him I’ve heard.”

“Where did you first encounter him?”

“London, quite a while back.”

“When Dick Stone was station chief?”

“Right. I did a couple of years under him. I was hoping he’d end up as director.”

“He should have, and he was in line for it, but that was not to be.”

“Spare me the details,” Jack said. “I’ve already heard them.”

“I’m relieved not to have to spit them out. How do you like your beef?” Rawls held up a hand. “If you’re a vegetarian, you’ll go home hungry tonight.”

“Medium raw, please.”

“That, I’ve got. The grill should be hot by now. Excuse me.” Rawls got up, left the room, and came back three minutes later, looking at his watch. “I’ve got us a porterhouse. Takes half an hour. Anything you want to impress me with while we wait?”

“I don’t think anything about me would impress you for five minutes.”

“You forget, I’ve read your file. It’s impressive, here and there.”

“The gaps are probably more interesting.”

Rawls freshened their drinks. “There oughta be a few gaps in every interesting file. Shows initiative and a fine disregard for authority.”

“I’ll cop to that last one,” Jack said.

“Lance always favors those who did well at the Farm, and you did just fine. I think your continued presence on the planet is testimony to that.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“I hear you’ve got a nice wife.”

“She was divorcing me until she heard I was dead, then she stopped.”

“A lot of women would have kept right on going. You should have brought her up here. It’s the only way you would get laid in these parts, at this time of year.”

“I don’t know. I hear you’re keeping your hand in, so to speak.”

“Oh, you can do all right, if your tastes run to sixty-year-old widows.”

“I’ll bet.”

“They’re not accustomed to a lot of attention.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Of course, the only place you could meet them is in the village store, this time of year, the yacht club being closed.”

“Maybe if I continue to wear my disguise,” Jack said.

They had dinner, and Jack enjoyed himself. It was nearly the only conversation he’d had since he was dead.