Shame

you have access to one,” she said. “It’s better to keep him waiting while we think.”
    Five minutes later, Caleb called from a convenience store pay phone.
    Feral answered on the first ring. “Where are you calling from?” he asked.
    “A pay phone down in La Jolla Shores.”
    “Close. Or as your children might say, ‘Marco.’”
    Caleb bit his lip. He didn’t want the other man to know his agony. But apparently he already did.
    “You seem to be sweating an awful lot tonight, Gray. Are you sick?”
    Again, no answer.
    “Because you look sick. Maybe tonight’s not a good night for our getting together. I don’t want to get the flu or anything.”
    “I’ll try not to kiss you.”
    Feral hid his annoyance. He was the only one who should be making jokes. But Junior wouldn’t be laughing for long.
    “Next stop, Torrey Pines Gliderport. Do you know where that is?”
    “No.”
    “As the crow flies, it’s directly north of you, not much more than a mile up the coast. But you can’t go that way unless you can fly. It’s a bit of a circuitous path to get to the nosebleed seats, the cliffs. You’ll need to go where eagles dare not perch, where the hang gliders like to step off onto a shelf of air.
    “And you’ll need to follow all of my instructions very carefully....”

35

    F ROM THE FRINGE, Feral watched the approach of the yellow Mustang. There was only one entrance to the Torrey Pines Gliderport, a single gate latched with a master lock every night at eight o’clock. Feral had cut that lock, allowing for passage along the dirt road. The thick fog and the dirt clouds the car was kicking up made it difficult for Feral to get a good look at the approaching car. He needed to make sure that Junior, and Junior alone, was coming in for a landing.
    Damn fog. It made his surveillance more difficult, but Feral had already walked the area and made sure it was clear of people. Feral sat there listening, alert to all the sounds of the night. There were no footsteps, nothing unexplained.
    The Mustang crunched along the dirt road, pausing at the knoll. It was a popular area during the day, the spot where hang gliders and paragliders readied their craft, and spectators congregated at the Gliderport Café to watch the pilots leap off the cliffs.
    Go right, thought Feral. He had instructed Junior to park off the main road on the far north side of the knoll. The car started moving again. Yes, it was headed just where Feral had said.
    The car finally came to a stop, and the gliderport became that much more still. With the patience of a hunter, Feral maintainedhis position and listened. Everything was still. In the distance he could just make out a yellow glow. The car’s headlights.
    He waited for three minutes, no more, no less. Time for him to come in from the fringe.
Fringe.
The word gave Feral pleasure. He liked being on the edge. With cat steps, Feral made his way forward. He paused several times to listen, but all was quiet save for the sounds of the ocean. These were moments to be savored. The slate was finally about to be wiped clean. Old debts were going to be paid.
    The fog made him feel like the invisible man. Under its cover he closed in on where Junior had parked his car. And there, standing like a good soldier, was Junior. He was near land’s end, illuminated by the car’s headlights.
    Feral had imagined it just this way, except for the fog. The car’s headlights were getting swallowed up by the mist, and he couldn’t see Junior as clearly as he would have liked. The man could be a ghost. He wished he hadn’t told Junior to leave the high beams on. Normal lighting would have been more effective. But the fog, Feral decided, was a mixed blessing. It was so thick he couldn’t even make out the distant Salk and UC San Diego buildings. He and Junior were now a world unto themselves.
    He crept a little closer. Junior was wearing a Padres cap but was still squinting from having to stare into the headlights. That was the beauty of the setup. Junior couldn’t see his approach. Feral had hunted deer that way. All you had to do was get a lantern in their eyes and it confused the stupid creatures. Blinded them into immobility. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Feral liked it that way.
    Junior kept moving his head from side to side. Did he sense his presence? Or was he just anxious for him to appear? The anticipation seemed to be a bit much for Junior. He was trembling violently. Junior acted as if