Silken Prey

started the car. “Fuck me.”
    •   •   •
    D ANNON AND C ARVER got together before dark, and Carver laid it out, exactly as it had happened: Davenport was blackmailing him for information.
    “He’s gonna get me, man,” Carver said. He didn’t seem scared, Dannon thought: he looked wired, like he might before a bad-odds mission. “He says that the governor will go on TV and talk about what happened in the ’stan. He says they can force the army to take me back and put me on trial. He said it was a massacre like that one in Vietnam, and there’s no way that Obama could let it go.”
    “That’s bullshit, man,” Dannon said. “That whole thing is buried so deep, and the guys who buried it all have stars now. They’d never get you.”
    “That’s what I told him,” Carver said. “I think he’s going to do it anyway. I’m telling you, he’s a crazy mean cocksucker. He’s got nothing unless I talk, except the ’stan, and he’ll use it to bust my balls.”
    “If you talk, he’ll bust more than your balls. He’ll put you in the penitentiary forever,” Dannon said.
    Carver said, “I know. I been thinking about it ever since I talked to him. He can’t do anything fast enough to keep me off a plane. I’m thinking I fly to Paris, take the train to Madrid, and fly out to Panama. Confuse the trail. I got a buddy there, runs a fishing place over on the Pacific side. By the time they get to Panama, if they even bother to chase me, I’ll be deep in-country. I’ll be wearing a sombrero and talking taco.”
    “Ah, man . . .”
    “You got something better?” Carver asked.
    “I need to think about it,” Dannon said.
    “Listen. I know you’re sleeping with Taryn, so you can talk to her. You put this on her, right now. Tonight. I need cash. A lot of it. I got the passport, I know how to travel, there’s nothing I want in the apartment that I can’t get in a duffel bag or two. Maybe you could clean the rest of it out for me later. But I need cash.”
    “How much? You mean, traveling money?”
    “I mean traveling money, and hiding money,” Carver said. “Living money.”
    “What are we talking about, Ron?”
    Carver hesitated, then said, “It’s like Tubbs said. If you want to retire . . . I need a million.”
    “Jesus Christ, man, she can’t come up with a million overnight.”
    “Sure she can. I’ve seen her wearing a half-million in diamonds. They’re right there in her safe,” Carver said. “I’ll take diamonds. What’s that one, that big green one? The Star of Kandiyohi? That’s probably another half-million—I’ve heard people talk. And I know she keeps cash around. I need enough cash to get to a place where I could sell the diamonds or whatever else she wants to unload. And then I’m gone. . . . I want to be in Paris tomorrow night.”
    “I don’t know,” Dannon said. “I’ll talk to her, maybe figure something out. A million is pretty goddamn rich, though. Pretty goddamn rich, man.”
    “How many millions has she got?” Carver asked. “A thousand millions? Isn’t that right? I’ve heard people say that, that she’s a billionaire. It takes one one-thousandth of what she’s got to get me out of the way, stashed down south? She’ll never hear from me again, she can go be a senator or a president or whatever.”
    Dannon nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to her.
I’ll talk to her.
You gotta take off for the hotel pretty soon. Get us set up there. I’ll try to get an answer tonight, and I’ll talk to you at the hotel.”
    “Good. I appreciate it, man.” Carver ran his hands through his thick hair, then shook it out. “Isn’t this a bunch of shit? That guy, Davenport, you watch out for him. Maybe you ought to come with me. I mean, Paris. We could be in Paris tomorrow night.”
    “City of Light,” Dannon said.
    “What?”
    “City of Light. That’s what they call Paris.”
    “City of Cheese. That’s what they oughta call it,” Carver said. “I never noticed the light, but they sure got a shitload of cheese.”

CHAPTER 24
    L ucas drove past Grant’s house with the driver’s-side window down, along the street lined with towering pines and blue spruces. He could hear, distantly but clearly, Aretha Franklin singing “Think.”
    From the street, he could see that the front door was open, and he could see people inside; and he could see guards along the front lot line. Another dozen people were milling outside the front fence, one of them