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Back The Third Brother Save as PDF
Chapters (116)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by the Author
  3. The Third Brother
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. PART I
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. PART II
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67
  75. 68
  76. 69
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. 80
  88. 81
  89. 82
  90. 83
  91. 84
  92. 85
  93. 86
  94. 87
  95. 88
  96. PART III
  97. 89
  98. 90
  99. 91
  100. 92
  101. 93
  102. 94
  103. 95
  104. 96
  105. 97
  106. 98
  107. 99
  108. 100
  109. 101
  110. 102
  111. 103
  112. 104
  113. 105
  114. 106
  115. 107
  116. 108

“Not exactly.” Harrison lights a cigarette and shoots his eyes at Mike again. “Analect burned him on a source that year on the Wa story. Some people died.”

“That’s why he disappeared?”

“You’d have to ask him yourself.”

“I’d like too.”

“You’ve got your own reasons.”

“I read the work.”

Harrison chuckles at this and inhales hard on his cigarette, as if an important decision has been made, and then relaxes. Relaxes for the first time since they met seventeen hours ago, it seems to Mike. Not a lot, just that his shoulders ease a little.

“Fair enough,” says Harrison. “I can introduce you if you want.”

“Thank you,” Mike says. “That would be great.”

How does this work, Mike wonders. What will I owe him?

30

Mike wakes up, still a little buzzed, as the sun is going down. He slept on top of his bed again. He showers and then empties his pockets. In one pocket he finds the number of the police contact Burton gave him. He should call right away, but he doesn’t want to pick up the phone. He doesn’t know why but he’s not ready. After a meal, he thinks.

He takes care dressing, much more than he does at home. What a joke, he thinks, a new expat anticipating the worldly glamour of foreign sidewalks where no one is looking. He can dress like a movie star. He leaves his clean, light shirt open an extra button, revealing the undershirt beneath. He does not shave. He combs his hair back and rolls up his sleeves. A clean, broad white guy in good clothing. I am not an easy mark, he thinks. He hopes.

Downstairs, Mike leaves another message for Bishop at the desk and tries him on his cell phone. No answer. He connected himself without Bishop. He has friends now, a number of his own to call.

The rain comes as he sits down to noodles at the café across the street. It’s suddenly cooler and the sky darkens. Mike eats slowly and drinks a green beer, realizing that he is hungover, and becomes daunted because he has to call the number he got from Burton and he is not a real reporter. He is just causing trouble. He wonders what Dorr is doing right now. Maybe Dorr is like his father. Maybe, now that it’s evening, Dorr is sitting down with a Scotch on the rocks and reading a favorite novel again. Maybe he is writing a new story. Mike has no idea—Dorr could be doing anything. Mike is sure only that they’ll both be surprised if they meet. Fine.