his way into the NSA’s own computers, Johnny had confirmed that they had taken
over jurisdiction in that case, too, which meant it had to be the work of The
Outsider.
Since then, nothing.
Vince was not ready to give up. Not by a long shot. He was a patient man.
Patience was part of his job. He would wait, watch, keep Johnny The Wire at
work, and sooner or later he would get what he was after. He was sure of it. He
had decided that the dog, like immortality, was part of his great destiny.
At Bolsa Chica State Beach, he stood for a while with the surf pounding against
his thighs, staring out at the great dark masses of surging water. He felt as
powerful as the sea. He was filled with scores of lives. He would not have been
surprised if electricity had suddenly leaped from his fingertips the way
thunderbolts flashed from the hands of the gods in mythology.
Finally, he threw himself forward, into the water, and swam against the powerful
incoming waves. He went far out before turning parallel to the shore, swimming
first south and then north, keeping at it until, exhausted, he at last allowed
the tide to carry him back to shore.
He dozed for a while in the hot afternoon sun. He dreamed of a pregnant woman,
her stomach large and round, and in the dream he strangled her to death.
He often dreamed of killing children or, even better, the unborn children of
pregnant women because it was something he longed to do in real life. Child
murder was, of course, much too dangerous; it was a pleasure he had to deny
himself, though a child’s life energy would be the richest, the purest, the most
worthy of absorption. Too dangerous by far. He couldn’t indulge in infanticide
until he was certain he had achieved immortality, whereupon he would no longer
need to fear the police or anyone else.
Although he often had such dreams, the one he woke from on Bolsa Chica Beach
struck him as more meaningful than others of its type. It felt . .. different.
Prophetic. He sat yawning and blinking in the westering sun, pretending not to
notice the bikinied girls who were giving him the eye, and he told himself that
this dream was a glimpse of pleasure to come. One day he would actually feel his
hands around the throat of a pregnant woman like the one in the
dream, and he would know the ultimate thrill, receive the ultimate gift, not
only her life energy but the pure, untapped energy of the unborn in her womb.
Feeling like a million bucks, he returned to his van, drove home, showered, and
went out to dinner at the nearest Stuart Anderson steak house, where he treated
himself to filet mignon.
6
Einstein bolted past Travis, out of the kitchen, across the small dining room,
disappearing into the living room. Carrying the leash, Travis went after him.
Einstein was hiding behind the sofa.
Travis said, “Listen, it’s not going to hurt.”
The dog watched him warily.
“We’ve got to take care of this before we go off to Vegas. The vet will give you
a couple of shots, vaccinate you against distemper and rabies. It’s for your own
good, and it really won’t hurt. Really. Then we’ll get you a license, which we
should’ve done weeks ago.
One bark. No.
“Yes, we will.”
No.
Crouching, holding the leash by the clip with which he would attach it to the
collar, Travis took a step toward Einstein.
The retriever scrambled away. He ran to the armchair, leaped up, and stood on
that observation platform, watching Travis intently.
Coming slowly out from behind the sofa, Travis said, “Now, you listen up, fur
face. I’m your master—”
One bark.
Frowning, Travis said, “Oh, yes, I am your master. You may be one damn smart
dog—but you’re still the dog, and I’m the man, and I’m telling you that we’re
going to the vet.”
One bark.
Leaning against the dining-room archway, arms folded, smiling, Nora said, “I
think he’s trying to give you a taste of what children are like, in case we ever