Assumed Identity

18

He closed the window in the computer room, then used a handkerchief to wipe his fingerprints off everything he had touched. He shut off lights as he left each room, reconfirmed that he had done everything he had to, and finally shut the front door behind him, using his picks to relock the two dead-bolts. When the killer’s partner arrived to begin his shift, the partner would take a while to figure out what had happened. The two area rugs that had been moved (and one of which was missing), the bullet hole in the hallway ceiling, the blood beneath the area rug that Buchanan had put in the computer room-each individually would not be obvious, but together they would eventually tell the story. The killer’s partner would then waste time looking for the body. His report to his bosses would be confused, adding to the further confusion that the two snipers watching the Mendez house couldn’t be found, either. The only certainty was that the people who were hunting Juana knew that a man named Brendan Buchanan had visited Juana’s parents, and that made it equally certain that they would associate Brendan Buchanan with everything that had happened tonight. By morning, they’ll be hunting me, he thought. No. They’ll be hunting Brendan Buchanan. With luck, it’ll take them a while to realize that tonight I became Charles Duffy.

Patting the wallet that he’d taken from the dead man and put in his jacket, Buchanan got into the Jeep Cherokee and backed from the driveway. His hands shook. His wounds hurt. His head throbbed. He’d come to the limit of his endurance. But he had to keep going.

A mile down the murky road, at the bottom of a misty hollow, he came to the van. Getting out of the Jeep, he kept his right hand behind his back so that he could quickly draw his weapon if there had been trouble while he was away. He saw movement in the mist, tensed, then relaxed somewhat as Anita came toward him, telling him in Spanish that Pedro was in back with the bound-and-gagged sentries.

“The phone kept ringing.”

“I know,” Buchanan said.

“We thought it might be you, but it didn’t ring twice, stop, and then ring again as you said it would if it was you. We didn’t answer.”

“You did the right thing.”

Buchanan studied her. She seemed nervous, yes, but not in a way that suggested she knew that someone was hiding and aiming a weapon at her. Nonetheless, he didn’t fully relax until he made sure that the prisoners were as they had been and that nothing had happened to Pedro.

“Did you find Juana?” Pedro asked.

“No.”

“Did you find any sign of her?”

“No,” Buchanan lied.

“Then this was pointless. What are we going to do?”

“Leave me alone with these men for a minute. Sit with your wife in the Jeep,” Buchanan said.

“Why?” Pedro looked suspicious. “If you’re going to question them about Juana, I want to hear.”

“No.”

“What do you mean? I told you if this is about my daughter, I want to hear.”

“Sometimes it’s better to be ignorant.”

“I don’t understand,” Pedro said.

“You will. Just leave me alone with these men.”

Pedro hesitated, then somberly got out of the van.

Buchanan watched to make sure that Pedro got into the Jeep with Anita. Only then did he close the van’s rear doors. The back of the van smelled from when Buchanan had allowed each man to use the Porta Potti before he drove to Juana’s house. They were still naked and looked chilled.

He aimed a flashlight at one man and then the other. “You should have told me the sentry was in the house.”

Terror made their eyes wide, their faces gaunt.

“Now he’s dead,” Buchanan said.

Their fearful expressions intensified.

“That puts the two of you in an awkward position,” Buchanan said. He took out his gun and used his other hand to ungag the first man.

“I figured,” the man said. “That’s why you sent the man and woman away. You didn’t want them to see you kill us.”

Buchanan picked up a blanket from a corner of the van.

“Sure,” the man said in despair. “A blanket can make a not-bad silencer.”

Buchanan pulled the blanket over the man and his partner. “I wouldn’t want you to get pneumonia.”

“What?” The man looked surprised.

“If our positions were reversed,” Buchanan said, “what would you do to me?”

The man didn’t answer.

“We’re alike, yet we’re not,” Buchanan said. “Both of us have killed. The difference is, I’m not a killer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is the distinction too subtle for you to grasp? I’ll make it plain. I’m not going to kill you.”

The man looked simultaneously troubled and bewildered, as if mercy was not a familiar concept.

“Provided you follow the ground rules,” Buchanan said.

“What kind of. .?”

“First of all, you’re going to stay tied up until sunset,” Buchanan said. “You’ll be fed, given water, and allowed to use the toilet. But you’ll remain in the van. Is that clear?”

The man frowned and nodded.

“Second, when you’re released, you will not harm Pedro and Anita Mendez. They know nothing about me. They know nothing about their daughter. They’re totally ignorant about any of this. If you torture them or use any other means to interrogate them, I’ll get angry. You do not want me to be angry. If anything happens to them, I’ll make your worst fears seem an understatement. You can hide. You can switch identities. It won’t do you any good. I make a specialty of finding people. For the rest of your life, you’ll keep looking behind you. Clear?”

The man swallowed. “Yes.”

Buchanan got out of the van, left the doors open, and gestured for Pedro and Anita to come over.

Pedro started to say something in Spanish.

Buchanan stopped him. “No. We have to speak English. I want to make sure that these men understand every word.”

Pedro looked confused.

“You’re going to have a busy day watching them,” Buchanan said. “I want you to find a place where this van won’t be conspicuous. Maybe in back of one of your garages.” He explained his conversation with the prisoners. “Let them go at sunset.”

“But. .”

“Don’t worry,” Buchanan said. “They won’t bother you. In fact, they’ll be leaving town. Won’t you?” he asked the first man.

The first man swallowed again and nodded.

“Exactly. Now all I need is for you to tell me if you have a check-in schedule,” Buchanan said. “Is there anybody you have to phone at a specific time to let your employer know there hasn’t been trouble?”

“No,” the man said.

“You’re sure? You’re negotiating for your life. Be very careful.”

“We’re supposed to phone only if we have a question or something to report,” the man said.

“Then let’s wrap this up.” Buchanan’s legs were rubbery from pain and fatigue. He turned to Pedro and Anita. “I need something to eat. I need a place to sleep.”

“We’d be honored to have you as a guest,” Anita said.

“Thanks, but I’d prefer that you don’t have any idea where I am.”

“We’d never tell.”

“Of course not,” Buchanan said, not bothering to correct her, knowing that Pedro and his wife didn’t have the faintest idea of how vulnerable they would be to torture. “The less you know about any of this, the better, though. As long as these men realize you can’t tell them anything, you’re safe. Just keep the bargain I made. Release them at sunset. Meanwhile, on our way into town, I need to pick up my car. My bag’s in the trunk.”

“What happens later? After you rest?” Pedro asked.

“I’m leaving San Antonio.”

“To where?”

Buchanan didn’t answer.

“Are you going to Philadelphia? To find the people who hired these men? The people you spoke to on the phone?”

Buchanan still didn’t answer.

“What happened at Juana’s house?”

“Nothing,” Buchanan said. “Pedro, drive the van while I stay in back and watch these men. Anita, follow in the Jeep.”

“But what about Juana?”

“You have my word. I’ll never give up.”