“Yes. Nice job. The Gulfstream touched down a few hours ago and we transported Humphrey to Red Cliff by van. Of course, he’d be more useful to us with his data, but you’re about to make that happen. This is a vital part of our mission now, Forty-five. You have a substantial role to play, and I trust when we are victorious, and Western society is changed forever, history will shower you with the accolades you deserve.”

“I’m proud to do my part.”

Burke pulled to within three car lengths of Vaill’s sedan. Vaill was good at evasion, but the tiger, driving a burgundy Buick LaCrosse, was able to predict his moves. Even if he lost them, the turns Vaill was taking had him headed directly toward Grand Street. Miller’s book and Welcome’s life—one-stop shopping. The decision regarding Vaill could wait.

As expected, fifteen minutes later, Vaill stopped in the drive of the Miralux and remained in the car, engine running, as Welcome hurried past the uniformed doorman and into the modest, family-type hotel. Five minutes later, Vaill took a call on his cell, spoke for a couple of minutes, then drove away. Obviously, Welcome was safely inside his room.

Time to make the doughnuts.

Keeping the weapon in his lap, Burke mounted his Gemtech suppressor to the barrel of the SIG Sauer 9mm MK25—the preferred weapon of the Navy SEALs. Then he slipped the exquisite gun inside his gym bag. Finally, he worked his trusty Strider SJ75 folding knife into his back pocket and exited the Buick. The knife was lightweight and the thin profile made it easy to forget it was even there.

If possible, he would kill Welcome with the Strider. It was a powerful weapon, great for the quick draw. However, if it was more practical, the suppressor would take care of matters well enough.

Either way, Dr. Lou Welcome had just minutes to live.

Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

Poverty is not an addiction, and as such is remediable. But the treatment for the condition is most certainly not a paid vacation from life.

—LANCASTER R. HILL, 100 Neighbors, SAWYER RIVER BOOKS, 1939, P. 7

From the small balcony off his sixth-floor hotel room, Lou had a view almost straight down at the kidney-shaped pool below. By the time Vaill and he arrived at the Miralux, the sky had transformed from bright blue to battleship gray. Now ominous clouds forming in the west warned of an approaching storm. As instructed, Lou had passed slowly through the small lobby to the elevators, keeping an eye out for anyone sitting down, reading, or otherwise appearing to be simply hanging out.

Nothing.

Once inside his room, he checked the closet and the bathroom, which had a glass shower stall, but no tub, and confirmed that the king-sized bed was on a frame that left little room underneath. Humphrey’s notebook was where he had left it, locked inside the surprisingly ample room safe.