The Fourth Horseman

EPILOGUE

At the Blessed Savior Anglican Church Cemetery outside London, Charlie Wilde and Manley Stroud used a small front-end loader to guide the aluminum coffin into the grave. It had been shipped here from Pakistan and was marked with the radiological caution symbol and warnings.

The military hadn’t wanted a thing to do with it, nor had any family come to claim the body.

“Bloody heavy thing,” Wilde said as he picked up a shovel and began filling the grave.

“Lined with lead, I suppose,” Stroud agreed, pitching in with the shoveling. “Even if it was my aunt Myrtle I don’t think I would have wanted to come here to claim her. Rest in peace, I always said. Rest in peace.”

At the kitchen counter in the Rencke’s safe house, four-year-old Audi, sitting between her grampyfather Kirk and Miss Petey, was beside herself with happiness. “My boys at the Farm were fun and all,” she said. “But this is infinite better.”

They all laughed, but Otto and Louise were beaming so hard they could scarcely contain themselves. “Something, isn’t she?” Otto said.

“You two are doing good,” McGarvey said.

“Okay, Miss Rencke, time for bed,” Louise said, taking the girl by the hand. “Say good night.”

After hugs and kisses all around Louise took her upstairs and when she got back, she opened a second bottle of Valpolicella as Otto was taking the baby lamb chops out of the marinade, ready to put them on the grill.

“I’ve been meaning to bring something up,” Pete said.

“Things are finally settling down between Pakistan and India,” McGarvey said. “So hopefully this has nothing to do with work.”

“No, but related. Has to do with a promise made to me.”

McGarvey didn’t have a clue, but Otto and Louise knew.

“Quote: ‘If there’s going to be any future for us, you’ll’—meaning me—‘will have to start listening to me’—meaning you. ‘At least every now and then.’”

“I was under duress,” McGarvey said, remembering every word.

“I don’t know,” Otto said. “We’ve been friends for a long time now, and I’ve never seen you rat out on a promise.”

“This is different,” McGarvey said.

“Coward,” Louise told him.

“Damned right.”

“How about a Rémy?” she asked. “Will that help?”

“A little, I suppose,” McGarvey said, and despite the complications he knew damned well would follow, and despite the fear that would ride with him like a tremendous weight on his shoulders, he figured that he hadn’t been this happy in a very, very long time.