Santa Fe Edge

29

Shortly before dawn Vittorio had scrambled up the hill above Eagle’s house and placed himself in a nest of good-sized rocks. He had a hunting rifle with a big scope by his side, already sighted for the distance. Cupie was down the road below the house, in some other rocks, positioned to fire into an automobile racing down the hill from Eagle’s place.

They were using handheld radios the size of a Snickers bar, and Cupie pressed the push-to-talk button. “Are you sure this is the best place for me?” he asked. “I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

“You can see the road in both directions, can’t you?” Vittorio replied.

“Well, yeah.”

“Then you can warn me when a car is coming up the hill, so I can be ready, and I can warn you when one’s on the way down the hill, having made an attempt on our client.”

“Yeah to that, too,” Cupie admitted. “I just won’t see any of the action.”

“I’ve got the action covered,” Vittorio said. “You just keep your eye on the road, and don’t get seen by anybody.”

“You expect me to hit the driver of a car, first shot, with a revolver with a two-inch barrel?”

“Okay, we’ll get you a better piece for the job. You’d have a shot anyway, if you extend your arm, brace against a rock, then cock and squeeze. Don’t try it double-action.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cupie muttered. “I’m going to bring some kind of folding chair, too. This fucking rock is incompatible with my ass.”

“You’ve got your own built-in cushion, Cupie.” Vittorio chuckled. “Quit your bitching.”

“Have you got the coffee Thermos?”

“Yes, I have.”

“I want one of my own tomorrow.”

“You had your coffee before we left,” Vittorio pointed out.

“I can’t have a second cup?”

“Tomorrow you can have all you can choke down.”

“It’s your fault if I fall asleep.”

The sun crested the mountain above the house, and the light from it worked its way across the parking area in front and eventually illuminated the front door. It was close to eight before the door opened and Eagle stepped onto the front porch, followed by Susannah. He turned, gave her a kiss and walked toward his black Mercedes, while Susannah, with a wave, went back inside.

Vittorio pressed the button. “He’s outside. Anybody coming?”

“Nobody either way,” Cupie replied.

“He’s in the car, and it’s moving. It’s a black Mercedes. Don’t shoot him.”

“No? I was looking forward to it,” Cupie growled. “Okay, he’s driving past.”

“Can he see you? He won’t like it if he knows we’re staking out his house.”

“He won’t see me. There, he’s gone, down the mountain toward Tesuque. Can we get out of here now?”

“Let me get the car, and I’ll pick you up in three minutes.”

“Bring coffee,” Cupie said.

TEDDY FAY LAY IN BED, Lauren’s head on his shoulder. They had made love-Lauren liked it best in the morning-and she had gone back to sleep.

Teddy reviewed his day. It was his practice when settling in a place, however temporarily, to immediately start work on new identity documents, so as to be prepared to run if he found himself being pursued. He’d start that this morning.

He was being pursued, sort of, but his pursuer wasn’t certain he was still in Santa Fe. He’d had a call from the man at Las Vegas Airport: Bacon had been there inquiring about him, but the man had told him no Cessnas had landed there and that there was no hangar space available. That would have confused Bacon.

Teddy had put himself in the younger man’s shoes: He was looking for two people, neither of which he had ever had a good look at, nor did he have photographs of them. He didn’t know where they were living or what car they were driving, and their trail had gone cold. How long would Bacon hang on before giving up?

Teddy felt some sympathy for the boy. He had outfitted hundreds of young agents over his decades with the Agency, sending them out to God knew where, to die or to return, often disillusioned with the work they were doing. A few came back excited, still wanting more. Bacon would be one of those, given Teddy’s experience of him.

Teddy had given a lot of thought as to whether to kill Todd. He would, if he had to, if the boy got too close, but if he had to, if Bacon simply disappeared, as Teddy was capable of making him do, then they might send out another agent, maybe more than one, and he would certainly have to move.

Teddy liked Santa Fe, and so did Lauren, and he didn’t want to move. If he could convince Todd Bacon they were gone, then maybe they could stay; maybe they could make a real home here. Teddy missed having a home. He was a nest builder, and he always assembled the twigs necessary to make that nest. His new safe would arrive today, so he could pack away his equipment and hunker down. He was looking forward to that. He wished he had some pictures to hang. They would have to look in on the galleries on Canyon Road.

TODD BACON ENDED HIS phone call to Holly Barker, his face red and hot. She was starting to think of him as an amateur; he could tell by the sound of her voice. He could hear the exasperation as she made more suggestions.

Now he was going to have to start cruising grocery stores and ladies’ shops, looking for Lauren Cade. It was the least effective thing he could do, he thought, but he couldn’t think of anything better.

He’d thought of checking out new hookups of electricity and telephones, but if Teddy had sublet a house, those things would already exist, so that was a time waster. What else did new people in town have to do for themselves besides utilities? He couldn’t think of anything.

Maybe Holly was right; maybe Lauren would want new clothes in a new town, and maybe she would go shopping for them. Maybe the Plaza was where he should waste his time looking for her.

Or maybe he should just spend the day in bed with the newspapers and half a bottle of bourbon. He would be just as effective that way, and he wouldn’t strain himself.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he said aloud, getting out of bed and heading for the shower.