Fear itself

10

Darkness. Smell of dank cement, old brick and old timbers, damp cardboard and laundry soap, and the faintest whiff of decay from the far corners, the unexplored reaches of the cellar where generations of rodent corpses had long since crumbled to dust.

Linda was lying on her side with her hands behind her back and her wrists tied to her ankles with a length of clothesline; Childs had gagged her with the belt of her flannel bathrobe. She could hear a television overhead, somewhere off to her right. Sounded like Childs was listening to CNN.

Linda held her breath, straining to make out the words. Media coverage, she knew, was a two-edged sword for law enforcement in these situations-every piece of information broadcast to warn the public would likewise inform the fugitive. So if the arson investigators had figured out that the body in 5-B wasn’t Childs, he would learn it along with everybody else. Then she could expect footsteps descending the basement steps, a bright light piercing the darkness, the resounding boom of a Colt.45 in an enclosed space.

On the other hand, if they still hadn’t discovered that Childs was alive, there wasn’t much hope of anybody calling to check on her. So either way, Linda told herself, she was screwed. And unless she could think of something between now and tomorrow afternoon, so was Pender.

After the big story-double murder in Georgetown, six dead in Atlantic City, including the fugitive serial killer-the sports came on. Something about the Redskins. In this day and age, how could you call a sports team the Redskins? It was not only demeaning, thought Simon indignantly, it was inaccurate. Native Americans were no more red than Gloria was yellow. She was ivory, that’s what she was. Beautiful antique ivory.

Thinking about Gloria, Simon felt a stab of regret. Not over killing her, but over losing her. Naked, terrified, pliant, in the bed or in the bath, she’d been his, completely and entirely his-a relationship like that, you just naturally miss it when it’s over.

Simon switched off the bedroom TV, lay back on Pender’s bed. Underneath the gloss of the dexedrine he was dull and exhausted-he hadn’t slept since Wednesday morning-but whether exhaustion would be soporific enough for someone with a snootful of crosstops and a history of sleep disorders was highly questionable.

On the other hand, he didn’t want to knock himself out with one of his few remaining Halwanes. It seemed unlikely that in the space of three hours the cops would not only figure out he was still alive, but trace him here as well-but if they did come, he didn’t want to be taken while he slept. Not without a fight-and not alive, either.

But he did have one of Zap’s Ecstasy capsules left. He swallowed it dry, and while waiting for it to take effect he kept the blind rat away by thinking about the upcoming game. Pender’s game. Searching the house earlier, after stowing Skairdykat in the cellar, Simon had learned that the information he’d failed to extract from her had been right in front of his nose the whole time, or at least the whole time they were in the kitchen. A note, stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet shaped like a banana: P: United 970, dep SFO 7:50a, Thu, 10/28-arr Dul, 4:07 p.

Four-oh-seven. Simon went over it in his head again. Dulles wasn’t that far over the Virginia border. If the flight was on time, if Pender didn’t check his baggage and the traffic wasn’t horrendous, then the earliest he’d be arriving would be five; five-thirty or six more likely. Still daylight. Simon would wait inside-the vestibule would screen him from Pender.

But if for some unforeseen reason Pender decided to go around, to enter the house via the back porch, there was no cover in the living room-Simon would have to hide in that first bedroom and wait for him there. Either way, the Colt would be cocked and ready. If Pender ignored the order to freeze, Simon would kneecap him; if he obeyed it, Simon would secure him-the man was a cop: there had to be a pair of cuffs around here someplace-and the game would begin.

The only other question was whether to bring Skairdykat upstairs or Pender down to the cellar. Simon decided to play that by ear. Or by eye, he thought with a chuckle. Then we’ll see who dances on whose grave.