“Thanks,” he said.
“My pleasure. Anything else interesting in there?”
“Nope. All the rest is ashes.”
I got into my car and drove. I ran it through the first car wash I came to, since the wipers had only smeared the crap on the windshield. As the rubbery tentacles slapped at me through a sea of foam, I checked to see whether I still had the matchbook Luke had given me. I did. Good. I’d seen a pay phone Outside.
“Hello. New Line Motel,” a young, male voice answered. “You had a Lucas Raynard registered there a couple of days ago,” I said. “I want to know whether he left a message for me. My name’s Merle Corey.”
“Just a minute.” Pause. Shuffle. Then: “Yes, he did.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s in a sealed envelope. I’d rather not”
“Okay I’ll come by “
I drove over. I located the man matching the voice at the desk in the lobby. I identified myself and claimed the envelope. The clerk-a slight, blond fellow with a bristly mustache-stared for a moment, then: “Are you going to see Mr. Raynard?”
“Yes.” He opened a drawer and withdrew a small brown , envelope, its sides distended. Luke’s name and room number were written on it.
“He didn’t leave a forwarding address,” he explained, opening the envelope, “and the, maid found this ring on the bathroom counter after he’d checked out. Would you give it to him?”
“Sure,” I said, and he passed it to me.
I seated myself in a lounge area off to the left. The ring was of pink gold and sported a blue stone. I couldn’t recall ever having seen him wear it. I slipped it on the ring finger of my left hand and it fit perfectly. I decided to wear it until I could give it to him.
I opened the letter, written on motel stationery, and read:
Merle, Too bad about dinner. I did wait around. Hope everything’s okay. I’m leaving in the morning for Albuquerque. I’ll be there three days. Then up to Santa Fe for three more. Staying at the Hilton in both towns. I did have some more things I wanted to talk about. Please get in touch.
Luke
Hm. I phoned my travel agent and discovered that I could be on an afternoon flight to Albuquerque if I hustled. In that I wanted a face-to-face rather than a phone talk, I did that thing. I stopped by the office, picked up my ticket, paid cash for it, drove to the airport and said good-bye to my car as I parked it. I doubted I would ever see it again. I hefted my backpack and walked to the terminal.
The rest was smooth and easy. As I watched the ground drop away beneath me, I knew that a phase of my existence had indeed ended. Like so many things, it was not at all the way I had wanted it to be. I’d thought to wind up the matter of S pretty quickly or else decide to forget about it, and then visit people I’d been meaning to see for some time and stop at a few places I’d long been curious about. Then I would take off through Shadow for a final check on Ghostwheel, heading back to the brighter pole of my existence after that. Now, my priorities had been shuffled-all because S and Julia’s death were somehow connected, and because it involved a power from elsewhere in Shadow that I did not understand.
It was the latter consideration that troubled me most. Was I digging my grave as well as jeopardizing friends and relatives because of my pride? I wanted to handle this myself, friendly skies, but the more I thought about it the more impressed I became with the adversary powers I had encountered and the paucity of my knowledge concerning S. It wasn’t fair not to let the others know-not if they might be in danger, too. I’d love to wrap the whole thing up by myself and give it to them for a present. Maybe I would, too, but . . .
Damn it. I had to tell them. If S got me and turned on them, they needed to know. If it were a part of something larger, they needed to know. As much as I disliked the idea, I would have to tell them.