The Sniper and the Wolf

EPILOGUE

Three months later, Gil and Crosswhite were walking across a self-storage lot on the outskirts of Paris, not far from the rail yard where Gil had his first run-in with Kovalenko.

“So tell me about this girl,” Gil said.

Crosswhite took a drag from a cigarette. “Not much to tell.”

“I know better than that. You moved to a communist country to be with her, for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s actually not all that communist anymore — just dirt poor.”

“So you’re not gonna tell me about her?”

“Well, she’s a little younger than me.”

“How young?”

“Twenty-one.”

Gil chuckled. “Twenty-one’s a good age.”

“She wants to get married soon — have a baby.”

“You should do it,” Gil said, lighting a cigarette of his own. “Be good for you.”

“The idea of havin’ a kid scares me,” Crosswhite said. “And what happens when you get yourself in another jam? Who’s gonna save your ass?”

“Don’t use me to try and wriggle out of it,” Gil said. “Besides, I was just in another jam. You were nowhere around.”

“Yeah, and you damn near died, from what I hear.”

“I damn near died the other two times.”

Crosswhite stopped and turned to face him. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Means I think you should get married and have a baby, dumbass. Be good for you.”

“Yeah,” Crosswhite said with a sigh. “I know it.” They set off walking again. “She’s Catholic. I gotta start goin’ to church on Sundays. I hate fuckin’ church.”

“Christ, it ain’t gonna kill ya,” Gil said. “You’ll have to stop with the drugs, too.”

“Already did. You talk to Marie lately?”

Gil grew immediately sad at the mention of his wife. “She doesn’t want me back until I’m out for good. And I just ain’t ready to quit.”

“You know these young guys comin’ up,” Crosswhite said. “They’re faster, stronger — more dangerous than we are.”

“I know it, partner, but I ain’t ready.”

They stopped in front of the orange overhead door of the storage garage and stood looking at the big white number 9 stenciled on the front of it.

“So what the fuck do you suppose is gonna be in there?” Crosswhite wondered. “A booby trap?”

Gil tossed the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. “I doubt it.”

“You’re absolutely positive you don’t wanna tell Pope about this first?”

“Yeah.” Gil stepped forward and put the key into the lock, giving it a turn. The door went up automatically, and both men stood staring.

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Crosswhite said.

The phone rang in Gil’s pocket. “Hello?”

“So what’s behind door number nine?” Pope asked.

Gil glanced up at the sky, not at all surprised. “I think you’d better get on a plane and come have a look for yourself.”

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