She stopped. “This beach never ends, either.”
“Huh?”
“Sam—we didn’t come this far in that storm. There ain’t no Labyrinth no more.”
I stopped, and looked up and down the beach. It was light enough now to see pretty far, and she was right.
“I wonder if this place has apple trees?” Brandy asked no one in particular.
No, it didn’t have apple trees, but it did have coconuts, and bananas, and other kinds of fruit. It appeared to be an island somewhere in the tropics, not very big but big enough for two. There were exotic birds, and some mean-looking insects, but no people. None that we could find.
It wasn’t, however, quite as primitive as the last time. We found a hut on the third day, not far inside the tree line, constructed of bamboo or some kind of wood or plant. It wasn’t much, but there was a medical kit, a map of the island, something that looked like instructions which were unfortunately in a language like no other we’d ever seen, as well as some blankets and straw mats. Clearly this was where Cranston had been heading, and where he never had the strength to make, particularly in that storm. We hung up the clothes and went back to nature, but we kept the guns loaded and at the ready, including Cranston’s oddball. The hut was too far from the Labyrinth point and too well concealed to be official. If Bill Markham’s boys couldn’t trace us with those gadgets they implanted in us, then sure as hell somebody from the other side would be along to see whether old Lamont was ready to go. There was no way anybody could know which of us survived.
“You know, it’s almost a shame that’s true,” Brandy remarked. “This place is one I could get used to. Tropical warmth, plenty of food, ocean breezes and the ocean to play in, and no Cranstons, Jamies, Little Jimmys, or nobody else. Only one person who talks English better than me, and I still got you to myself with no competition.”
We used the hut, but didn’t sleep in it except during the occasional storm. We wanted to see them before they saw us, and we’d spent a year in more primitive conditions than this, only ending that two months or so before this. It was almost like coming home.
But this time it was only a few days before the Labyrinth opened again. Four figures stepped out, all dressed in black as we had been, and fanned out along the beach. One of them had some kind of gadget, and discovered Cranston’s decomposing body where we’d left it in about five minutes. They looked at it, then they turned and looked the other way.
“Hey! Horowitzes! You can come home now! All is forgiven!”
It was Bill Markham.
“Over here, Bill!” I shouted. “If we’d known it was going to be you, we’d have dressed for the occasion!”
There were a lot of handshakes and then a tour of the island, including the hut. The writings weren’t foreign to Markham’s expert.
“It’s a general guide to the island,” she told us. “Says what’s good to eat and what to avoid, how to use medicinal herbs for this or that, and all that kind of thing. Done on a laser printer. Impossible to trace.”
“We weren’t sure which crew would come,” I told them. “We were ready for the worst.”
“Yeah, only this time we weren’t gonna jump back in that damned hole,” Brandy nodded.
“We’ll stake the place out now in case anybody does show up from the other side,” Markham told us. “The only thing we can do.” He sighed. “Well, I was afraid Cranston might be tough. Too bad you had to nail him, but at least you nailed him. Okay, you passed. Now you got a decision to make.”
“Come again?” I said.
“You can stay here and forget about everybody and everything except yourselves. We’ll monitor any entries, but we’ll never interfere. This place is somewhere in the Hawaiian chain, we figure, only real north of the state, up toward Midway. Not a bad place to be.”
“Or?” Brandy asked.
“Or, you can come take a ride on my railroad. Be warned, though—this train’s strictly for employees only.”
I looked at him. “And what do we go back to?”
“An office in the city. Nicer than the ones you’re used to. A full agency, maybe with staff, that can handle independent cases, but has one prime client on permanent retainer. I think, between Whitlock and the Company, we can steer a bunch of needy clients your way. Some real training, though, before that happens, in the less orthodox areas of detection you seem pretty good at, with the understanding that you’ll be called upon now and then to use that training for your fat retainer. Interested?”
I put my arm around Brandy and looked at her. “Interested?” I asked her.
“Couldn’t be otherwise,” she replied. “Can’t go against no act of G.O.D.”
I looked out over the waters, where clouds formed strange shapes in the western sky, and I swore I saw them, saw them all, there in the clouds. Saw them looking down at us and smiling. Spade, the Op, Marlowe, Archer, McGee, all of them were there, and they all understood.
I looked at Brandy. “You know, Mrs. Charles, we ought to have a dog. After all, we’re joining the upper classes now.”
“Oooh, Nicki! You say the most wonderful things,” she responded.
Bill Markham stared at us, half convinced we’d gone mad. I looked at him and gave him my best Bogart.
“Louie,” I said, “this could be the start of a beautiful relationship.”
Brandy frowned. “He wasn’t a private eye in that one.”
I pulled her close and kissed her long and hard. When we broke for air, I said, “It ain’t the job that grabs ya, baby. It’s the romance . . . ”
The Labyrinth Of Dreams Page 27
