Delta Blue

Twenty-one

The western sky was tinted orange and red and violet, and the air had chilled nicely.

Above the southwestern horizon, not blotted out by the yellow lights around the swimming pool, a bright white star flickered.

“That’s Themis, lookin’ good,” Munoz said.

McKenna didn’t answer, but he thought so, too. He took another sip of his Dos Equis.

He turned his head to look at the dark bulk of Buttermilk Mountain. That looked good to him, also.

“You see the six o’clock news, Kev?”

“Didn’t bother.”

“They got six of the wells concreted in.”

“Good.”

“They found Weismann’s body in the launch control bunker. Lynn did it up right.”

“That she did.”

“The Germans are callin’ for new elections. Want the military overhauled.”

“That’s good, too, Tony.”

“Jesus, jefe. Wish you wouldn’t talk so damned much.”

“My mind’s elsewhere,” McKenna said, which was true.

“That case, and seein’ it’s dark, amigo, it’s time for me to be gettin’ on.”

“See you later, Tony.”

Munoz put his bottle on the table, pushed out of the chaise longue, and walked around the pool. He stopped to talk to the blonde, fidgeted around for a bit, then sat down beside her. When the waiter appeared, he placed an order for something or other.

“You didn’t get your hair cut today, McKenna,” Pearson said. Her voice floated in the semidarkness, coming from the chaise on the other side of him.

“You didn’t, either. But I don’t mind.”

They sat silently for ten minutes, McKenna very aware of her presence.

Finally, McKenna said, “Well, I think I’m going to take another hot shower.”

“Me, too,” she said, getting up to take his hand.