"Let me worry about that," Nick said. Then, in a twinkling, the voice was dripping ice. "But you better not be fucking me."

"You're not my type."

"I'll tell you what type I am, in case your memory's been fogging over lately. Let's say that someone was to try and jerk me on a deal that I've been working on for better than a year. Let's say someone didn't hold his end up in a crunch."

"Let's say."

"I can't imagine anywhere on earth this bastard would be safe, capisce? It's like little Bobby used to say: I don't get mad, I just get even. You remember Bobby, don't you, Cam?"

The tall man nodded. He remembered Bobby, sure. And Jack, as well. The years had been unable to erase their memory.

"Good. I wouldn't want you coming up with any second thoughts along the way."

"No second thoughts," he echoed, feeling like a straw man with his guts on fire.

"So, I'll be hearing from you, then?"

"This weekend."

"Beautiful. I'm looking forward to it, Cam. It's been a long time coming."

Like a lifetime, the tall man thought, shuddering involuntarily, and glad for the darkness. He only hoped that there would be a lifetime after, that he would be able to find a place among the living. The alternative was nonexistence, and he wasn't up for that. Not yet. He had too much to lose.

And he was risking all of it.

The tall man took in the surroundings once more, amazed at the serenity of the manicured suburbs. A storm was brewing while West Virginia slept, and when it broke he would be in its eye.

1

"Enjoy your weekend."

Hal Brognola glanced up from his open briefcase and returned his secretary's smile. "Still here?"

"I'm playing catch-up with the files."