Aaron Elkins - Gideon Oliver 02 - The Dark Place

by The Dark Place

  "What will he do when they all die?" Julie asked.

  Gideon shook his head. "Beats the hell out of me. I hope he can find another lost tribe. Let’s go greet John."

  Julian Minor bustled prissily about the body along with another agent, a big-nosed, solemn young man named Simkins. A few yards away, John stood talking quietly with Julie and Gideon. Gideon’s eyes strayed above John’s shoulder to the cleft where the sleeping bag had been. It was no longer there, but lay wet and crumpled on the ground. Blackpath must have thrown it down, realizing that anyone who climbed up to where it had been would have seen the huts on the other side of the big boulder. The gifts—the ax and the basket—were not there either. He and Julie would have to come back someday to see if they were in the cave. Someday. Not for a long time.

  "Doc," John was saying softly, his head tilted to one side, "your story doesn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense." He was referring to Gideon’s considerably abridged description of the night’s events, from which mention of anyone but Clear Water had been pruned. He was leaning with one hand against the huge monolith, on the other side of which—no more than twenty feet away, if one knew how to get to it—lay the deserted Yahi huts.

  "I know, John. Look, would you believe me—and just let it go—if I tell you that little guy really is the murderer? And if I can guarantee there won’t be any more killings?"

  "I don’t know. Is it true? No one else was involved?"

  "It’s true," Gideon said. Depending on what you meant by involved.

  He said it a little too hesitantly. "But there is more to it," John said flatly.

  "Yes, there’s more, but it isn’t relevant."

  "It isn’t, John," Julie said. "Really."

  John shook his head. He was hatless, as they all were, and a few rivulets of rain ran down his wide forehead. "I don’t know," he said. Gideon could see he was offended at being excluded. And rightfully so. He and Gideon had shared a lot of sensitive secrets.

  "John, I’d be glad to tell you the rest as a friend. In fact, I’d like to tell you. But the problem is, you’re also a special agent of the FBI."

  John nodded. "And with my well-known, true-blue integrity, you know I’d report anything you told me, and then whatever you didn’t want to get out would get out."

  "That’s it. But I’ll tell you anyway, if you want."

  John laughed and relaxed. "Nah," he said. "If you tell me the killings are over, and we’ve got the guy who did them, that’s what counts, right? Don’t tell me any more. I put enough strain on my integrity as it is. You can tell me the rest after I retire."

  "I will," Gideon said.

  "Fine. I’m going back to the chopper in a few minutes. Got to fly back and get a medical examiner. We’ll give you guys a lift."

  "Great," Julie said.

  "No, thanks," said Gideon. "We’ll walk back."

  John’s eyebrows went up. He waved a hand at the wet forest. "In this?"

  "We have things we need to talk about," Gideon said. "A nice long walk will give us the chance."

  John wiped the collected moisture from his face and flicked it to the ground. He addressed Julie. "You’re really going to walk back?"

  "I guess so. He’s very masterful, you know."

  "Suit yourself," John said. He shook his head, looking at Julie. "You’re getting to be as crazy as he is." He clapped Gideon on the back and squeezed his shoulder. "Let’s all get together for dinner at the lodge—if you’re back by tonight." He shook his head again and went back to the others.

  Hand in hand, they walked silently through the drizzle for a few hundred feet. "Gideon," Julie finally said, "what do we need to talk about that will take six hours?"

  "For starters, how about the next forty years?"

  "All right," she said again, her voice as misty as the rain. "That’ll do. For starters."

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  «——THE END——»