THE PRICE OF VENGEANCE

hat Zale only knew they were mo

pale young man in a charcoal suit that had cost more than a car and fit like it had been cut for someone else. The shoulde

until they went red, then let his mouth hang

n the top floor an

own. It lit the white marble, the pale leather chairs, the long reception desk where a young woman in a gray dress sat very straight and did no

building. Zale had passed under the replacement on his way in. Ste

o his tie, which was crooked, then away. "Your uncle

, and caught it against his chest on the second try. "I th

cour

fingers, though, were pressed wh

d shuffled toward the double

hit his cuff. He swore, softly, cheerfully, and dabbed at it with his thumb, and the whole time his eyes stayed on the frosted doors ahea

door open with

t. A long table of black glass. Eighteen chairs. Fourteen of them were occu

the fir

gala they had greeted him with champagne and white teeth

coffee and skin. A man near the foot of the table had unbuttoned his collar. A dark ring of sweat showed under the arm of his pale blue shirt. Beside him a woman in a gray suit tapped a silver pen against a lega

ke from the corner of his mouth. The neighbor shook his head. Another man, young, with a thin mustache, looked a

d back from the glass. Black leather. A name

CRA

ard. Nobody had touched it. A thin

ce went o

ame from the head of the

st chair, which squeaked. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and slid down a litt

id not look at him.

oked at

e shoulder, he looked as though someone had let the air out of him. The tan had gone sallow. A shaving cut ran along his jaw, small and fresh, where the razor had slipped.

gone pale against the black glass, and when Zale let his gaze drop to the thick neck above the open collar, he could see the pulse there. A hard, quick flutter under the skin, a hundr

ve further information, no one speaks to the press. Not a word. Nobody conf

orward. "His housekeeper told my assistant that

s mouth twisted. "Yes.

he a

ave that i

who

eat-dark collar wiped his upper lip with a folded handk

go to a message. The clinic in the hills says they have no patient by that name. I have had security calling since seven th

offee, scalded hi

ano had found him at dawn, as planned, a tired man asleep over his papers. Somebody had decided what story to tell and who to tell it to. That someon

, then. Somebody else

n the back of his mind while the

his knee bounce under the table. "Is this, like, a bad time? Because

answe

sun flared off a thousand windows at once until the whole room seemed to be burning white around its edges. Zale squinted aga

see Gerald's

r a very long time and has just run out of strength. The bloodshot eyes found Zale at t

ng made one

ery careful. "You spoke with Tobias at th

e blinked

d he say

again, lower. "What

and the sun sat behind them all like a spotlight with the heat on. Zale f

ers to his temple and winced. "Okay. S

dy m

is hair. "Sorry. Honestly, that whole night is, like, a fog? I think Tobias said something about my dad. Ambition,

," Gera

b? Or a lounge. There was a guy with a very tall hat. I lost my phone. I found my phone. I lost it again. I woke up on a couch at, I don't know, someone named Brecken's? And I'd lost one shoe."

broken out above his lip, and he didn't wipe it, becau

stared

ow why. He let his lower lip pull in. He let his fingers fidget with the lid of his coffee until it popped off and a little hot brown spilled o

e table, someone

the splash on his cuff, then to the crooked tie, then to the loafer on the table's edge, and Zale watched the numbe

ff the table," Ge

. Yes.

orefinger. His voice had gone flat. "If anyone, anyone, asks you about h

ow anything." Zale beamed.

and turned it into a coug

adjou

ach other. Zale watched them go the way a man watches a field of mice when a shadow crosses it. The woman with the silver pen shoved her legal pad into a briefcase so hard the cl

shoe as if the la

doors. His ears wer

r the exit. A woman's voice, tight and low

him to

tor shipment can't sit, and if Crane's

t h

n wh

t he

atic, a few hours down the coast from the stone buildings where he had spent his teens. He knew the harbor. He had run the gorge road above it at dawn with

ll. A third, male, murmured somethin

hey we

and the room had emptied around him until only the empty chair and the untouched glass remained. A phone buzzed against

with his bac

lifting to grip the back of his neck. Sunlight ran along the edge of his cheek, wet and white. "He was n

word, a small thin sound lik

cup in his hand and listened to a gr

ast of it on the table, and said brightl

d one hand and waved it, a dismissal

. The receptionist looked up and then down. A cleaner with a cart parked beside the elevators ignored him. Nobody spoke. Nob

a small black glass panel. His uncle's private elevator. He had been given a keycard on

stepped through. Th

ie

ile dr

s as flat and cool as paper. His spine rolled straight, vertebra by vertebra. The knees locked. The shoulders came back, and the oversized jacket, which ha

el of the doors, a

. A man in a suit that didn't fit looked back at him out of the metal, and for a m

le numerals. His ears popped. He watched

ir

rt of the arrangement Crane apparently botched. A name on the wire. Voss. A freight company called Merrow. A shipment at

unfold it. He didn't need to. The second name was already

nic

rush of cold marble light broke across his face, and the smil

oise and the sun, and began