“What about that deer gun I heard?”

Kelly points into the darkness south of the warehouse. “The deer gun belonged to the guy over there. Who is also dead. The shooter on the levee took him out. That was the first muzzle flash I saw. He fired across my line of sight, at a right angle to you guys. The other guy must have fired off that deer slug as he was dying. Pure reflex, probably.”

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why would they shoot at each other? A falling-out among hit men?”

Kelly shakes his head. “I don’t think these guys were together. They’re dressed different, and their equipment’s different. I think the guy with the deer gun was just in the way.”

“Who knew you were coming to this meeting?” Ike asks.

“My father and Kelly. That’s it.”

“What about you?” Kelly asks Ike.

“Nobody knows where I’m at. How did these guys get so close if you were covering the meeting?”

Kelly scratches the side of his nose, as though to emphasize his calmness. “First of all, they’re not that close. Second, the curve of the levee blocked my line of sight to the guy with the deer gun, but not his line to you. Third, the sniper on the levee followed you in. He probably drove with his lights off and parked well back, then moved up on foot.” Kelly pauses, his cool blue eyes level with Ike’s. “And fourth, if I was in with those guys, you’d be bagged and tagged right now.”

Ike snorts and turns toward the levee. “Show me the dead guys.”

Kelly unslings his MP-5 and starts jogging toward the levee. We follow him across the lot, trying to stay with him as he pounds up the spongy grass on the side of the levee. The odors of cow manure and bush-hogged grass weight the humid air. At the crest, Kelly points at a black shape lying at the edge of the gravel road that runs atop the levee.

“No wallet,” he says. “No ID at all. Car’s clean too. A rental.”

“That’s risky,” Ike remarks. “He gets stopped at random without ID, he’s gonna get run in.”

“Unless he’s willing to do the cop.”

Ike walks to the corpse, bends over, and takes a long look. “Never seen him. Take a look, Cage.”

I walk over and glance at the dead sniper. He’s dressed from head to toe in black, and looks like he stepped off a film set. His face is pale and placid in the dark, as though he were shot while sleeping. A dead face can be difficult to identify, so I give it long enough to be sure.

“I don’t know him.”

“Here’s his weapon.” Kelly holds out a long, bolt-action rifle to Ike. “Rank-Pullin starlight scope. Fourth-generation passive amplification. Expensive toy.”