A fresh surge of throbbing in the heel of his hand interrupted his train of thought. He raised the hand, resting it against the window sash, and the pain faded. He looked at the clock on the desk. In less than an hour, he and Kim would have to leave for their meeting with Rudy Getz.

But right now he had more pressing issues to resolve.

The wild card. The opportunity to send a message to the killer.

What should the message be?

An invitation?

To come where? To do what? For what reason?

What might the Shepherd want?

One thing the Shepherd always seemed to want was security.

Perhaps Gurney could offer him an opportunity to eliminate some element of risk in his life.

Perhaps an opportunity to eliminate an adversary.

Yes. That would do nicely.

An opportunity to kill someone troublesome.

And Gurney knew the place for it. The perfect place for a murder.

He opened the desk drawer and took out a business card that had no name on it, just a cell number.

He took out his phone and made the call. It went into voice mail. There was no salutation, no identification, just a brusque command: “State your purpose.”

“It’s Dave Gurney. An urgent matter. Call me.”

The response came less than a minute later. “Maximilian Clinter here. What’s up, laddie?” The brogue was present in full force.

“I have a request. I have to do something, and I need a special place to do it.”

“Well, well, well. Something major?”

“Yes.”

“How major exactly?”

“As major as it gets.”

“As major as it gets. Well, well. That can only mean one thing. Am I right?”

“I’m not a mind reader, Max.”

“I am.”

“Then you don’t have to ask me any questions.”

“It’s not a question, just a request for confirmation.”

“I’m confirming that it’s major, and I’m asking for the use of your cabin for one night.”

“Care to provide some details?”

“I haven’t figured them out yet.”

“The basic idea, then.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I have a right to know.”

“I’m going to invite someone to join me there.”

“The man himself?”

Gurney made no reply.

“Bloody hell! Is it the truth? You found him?”

“Actually, I want him to find me.”

“In my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Why would he want to come there?”

“Possibly to kill me, if I can give him a good enough reason.”

“I see. You plan to spend the night in my cabin in the middle of Hogmarrow Swamp, in the hope of getting a midnight visit from a man with a good reason to kill you. Do I have this right?”

“More or less.”

“And what’s the happy ending? A split second before you get your head blown off, I drop out of the sky to save you, like fucking Batman?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I save myself. Or I don’t.”