Chapter 83 Section VI

In a café just south of the Flatiron Building on Fifth Avenue, Decker waited in silence until the waiter brought them their drinks and walked away.They chose a table in a remote corner.There were not many people in the cafe.Even so, Decker looked around to make sure no one was looking in his direction before he bent down, opened his travel bag, and took out the little thing he had taken out of the briefcase at the flower shop earlier.It was metal and the size of a matchbox. "What's this thing?" Esperanza asked. "It sends a homing signal. And this—" Decker reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a metal box the size of a cigarette case. "—receive the signal, as long as the signal is not from a mile away. Cars go south on Fifth Avenue past the Flatiron Building. You take a taxi and wait north at Madison Square Park Wait. After I get into the car Giordano sent, you wait 15 seconds to follow, so that it will not be too conspicuous. The receiver has a needle display, and this needle will point to the left, right, or straight ahead. It depends on which direction the signal is coming from. The scale tells you how close you are on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the closest." Decker flicked the switch, pushing the receiver in front of the transmitter. "Okay, the system is working fine. You hold the receiver. If something goes wrong, our rendezvous point is in front of this cafe, every hour on the hour. But if I don't show up by 6 o'clock tomorrow night, You go back to Santa Fe as soon as possible." Decker checked his watch. "It's almost time. Let's go."

"What about your bag?" "You take it." The bag contained the pistol, the spare magazine, and the box.Decker knew he would be searched.Besides, meeting Giordano with a weapon is unlikely to scare him. "Wherever I was taken, I was there 10 minutes later, dialed the number Benny gave me and asked to speak to me. To make it feel like something bad would happen if I didn't answer the phone." "and then?" "I give you hints when I talk to you, and you follow them." They walked to the door of the cafe. "You'll have no problem hailing a taxi here."

"Decker." "What's up?" "Are you sure about it?" "No." "Then there may be other ways." "Getting out of here is the last thing I want to do. But I'm running out of time. Maybe it's too late. I don't know where else to go but go straight to the source of the problem." Esperanza hesitated. "good luck." "Beth needs luck more than I do." "but if……" "Have they killed her?" "right." "Then it doesn't matter what happens to me." A minute later, Decker stepped out into the darkening rainy night.He turned to the right, toward the Flatiron Building, and he hoped Esperanza had called a car within the minute.He worried about what McKittrick might do to Beth, and couldn't help remembering that it had also rained the night McKittrick shot his father in Rome.

He arrived at the Flatiron Building five minutes early and stood under a porch, sheltering from the rain, conspicuously holding a yellow rose in his hand.His emotions were mixed: varying degrees of doubt, worry, and apprehension.But only the doubts were for himself, the rest were outward: worries about Beth, apprehensions about what might have happened to her.But most of all, he felt he had made up his mind.It was his first time taking part in an action that meant more to him than his own life. He remembered something Beth had said, which she had told him two days before.It was Mardi Gras, and they drove back to Decker's house from a party at the filmmaker's house on Friday—the last moments of their normal relationship.It seemed normal at the time, but now Decker realized there was nothing normal about their relationship.As they made love, the moonlight pouring on them through the bedroom window, turning their skin ivory—a sweet and bitter memory that left Decker feeling empty inside.Later, they lay side by side, Decker with his arms around her, his chest pressed against her back, his belly pressed against her hips, his knees pressed against the crook of her knees, legs curled. , maintaining a spoon-like posture.She was silent for so long that he thought she was asleep.He remembered smelling the fragrance of her hair as he inhaled.When she began to speak, the babble was so soft he barely heard it.

"When I was a little girl," she whispers, "my parents got into a lot of fights." She fell silent again. Decker waited. "I never knew why they fought," Beth went on softly, without a trace of tension in her voice, "and still don't. Fornication, money problems, drinking, it could be anything. Yelling. Sometimes it's worse than just yelling. They throw things and wrestle with each other. They fight especially horribly during the holidays. Every Thanksgiving or Christmas, my mother always prepares a big meal. Then, When it was time to eat, something would happen and they would start yelling at each other again. My dad would rush out the door and it would be just my mom and me eating. And during the meal she would tell me over and over that I Father was a bloody bastard."

She fell silent again, and Decker didn't press her.He understood very well that no matter what she wanted to confide, it was all in her heart, and she had to let her speak slowly. "They beat harder and harder, and when I couldn't take it I had to beg them to stop. I pushed my father to stop him from hitting my mother. But that only turned him on me," Beth continued at last. , "I still have in my mind the scene when my father's fist hit me. I was really afraid that he would kill me. It happened at night. I ran into the bedroom to find a place to hide. The living room The yelling got louder and louder. I lined up the pillows under the sheets to make it look like I was sleeping there. I must have learned this from the TV or something. Then I shrank Went under the bed and slept there, thinking that if my father came in and stabbed me, I would save my life. I have slept like that every night since then.”

Beth's shoulders heaved slightly, and Decker thought she was sobbing. "Did that happen to you as a child too?" she asked. "No, my father was a professional soldier. He was strict, insisting on discipline and control. But he never got rough on me." "You're lucky." In the darkness, Beth wiped her eyes. "I used to read stories about knights and beauties, King Arthur and stuff. I always dreamed that I was living in those stories and that I had a knight protecting me. I was good at drawing when I was a kid. I used to Draw the knight in my mind." Beth turned to him as the sheets rustled.Now, the moonlight is shining on her face, and tears are faintly flickering on her cheeks. "If I draw that knight again, he'll be like you. You make me feel safe. I won't have to sleep under the bed again."

Two hours later, the killers broke into his house.