Deadlock

73

Coburn’s name flashed up on Carrie’s cell phone. She clicked the answer button. Behind her, activity at the hospital had slowed to a crawl as the media mopped up the last shreds of information about the failed assassination attempt on the President.

‘You’ve got some nerve,’ she said. Lock had told her about Coburn leaving him hanging back at the cathedral.

‘Where is he? I need to speak to him.’

‘Emergency’s over, so he’s getting some rest,’ she told him.

‘You’re staying at the Argonaut, right?’

Carrie couldn’t remember either her or Lock telling anyone where they were staying. ‘What is it with you people?’ she snapped. ‘I told you, he’s resting. You can talk to him tomorrow.’

‘It won’t wait until then. What room’s he in?’

Carrie hesitated. ‘Room 426,’ she said at last.

‘Thanks,’ he said, and hung up.

Coburn put his cell phone back into his pocket and glanced at the crowd of people packed into Capurro’s Restaurant and Bar, which sat on the opposite side of Jefferson Street from the Argonaut. With some difficulty he muscled his way over to the man nursing his beer at the bar. He ordered himself a beer and leaned in towards the man.

‘Room 426,’ Coburn told him.

‘I got it,’ said Cowboy, raising his beer bottle in salute to Coburn and tilting the dregs into his throat.

Coburn slapped Cowboy a high five and watched as he elbowed his way towards the front door of the bar. The bartender slid Coburn his beer, and he took a big gulp. In a few minutes, Lock would be dead, and he could relax.