Page 64 of The Furies

I eased myself down, all under the watchful eye of his pistol. It was a Colt Single Action Army revolver, the gun that helped to tame the West. Colt still made a modern version. This one looked old and worn, but well maintained.

“I’ve been reading about you,” said Kepler. “You’re a cursed man.”

“If the rumors are true, so are you.”

“You have been busy. Who’s been telling you stories?”

He sounded genuinely curious, which was all the more reason not to answer.

“No one you’ve met,” I said. “What do you want from me?”

“I want what’s mine. I want what was taken.”

“I don’t have it.”

“But you know who does.”

“Raum Buker? You’ve sent him running, and I don’t hold out much hope for your finding him. You should have gone to the police and told them what was done to you, instead of leaving your mark on doors and mirrors.”

“I don’t enjoy the attention of the law.”

“Skeletons in your closet, or do you hide the bones elsewhere?”

“Sometimes,” said Kepler, “I don’t hide the bones at all. I leave them to burn, as you may be aware. Are you goading me, Mr. Parker? Because I wouldn’t, if I were you. I am not a patient man.”

“No, you’re a dying one.”

“But not dead, not yet. I have questions for you. Where is Buker?”

“I don’t know.”

On the road behind us, a truck roared by. Kepler used the noise to smother the sound of the gunshot, but it was still ferociously loud. The impact of the bullet blew grit into my eyes from two feet away. He had barely been required to move the gun more than an inch, and now its dark eye returned to me.

“I don’t know where he is,” I reiterated. “But I’m as keen to trace him as you are.”

“I doubt that. Who are you working for? The Stranges?”

“I’m worried for their well-being.” I saw no point in bringing Will Quinn into it.

“You ought not to have involved yourself with them. I suspect those women of perfidy. It is in the nature of their sex.”

“I think you may be blinded by misogyny.”

“And you by sentimentality. The great error of man has always been to underestimate the intelligence and cunning of women. In this, we are all sons of Adam.”

“I can tell you that the Stranges don’t have what you need,” I said.

“And what is that?”

“A coin, an old and valuable one.”

His head tilted to the right, like a bird debating whether to feed on strange carrion.

“Did Buker share its nature with you?”

“Like you said, I’ve been busy.”

The head remained at an angle.

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