BooksBarbecue
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

“You’re all the way here,” says Dorr, sounding high. He gestures for Mike to come in.

Mike steps through the doorway, blinded momentarily by the darkness. Like ink, he thinks, blinking into it. After closing the door behind them, Dorr takes off the glasses and moves slowly to a ripped black leather chair. Even in the darkness, Mike can make out the man’s startlingly round blue eyes. The floor is cheap linoleum and Mike hears the scraping again and sees a dog, some kind of lab mix, turning in tight circles in a corner, dragging her hind feet on the floor. Carrie, Mike figures.

Dorr sprawls in the chair with his legs out before him, his dark shirt open down the front but buttoned at the wrists. Mike waits for the never-coming invitation to sit down and then sets himself, almost perching, on a ragged sofa across from Dorr. Between them a glass coffee table is covered with dirty plates, glasses, and an overflowing ashtray fashioned out of some kind of bone. This could be the room of any drunk, Mike thinks, or any junkie. Dorr searches the table for something but gives up quickly.

“Will you give me a cigarette?” His voice is slow and smooth. Mike hands him his pack. Dorr puts his sunglasses back on and lights a cigarette. The flicker of the match illuminates the room for a moment, and Mike sees his reflection in Dorr’s dark lenses. The dog is still scrabbling in the corner. It will not sit still. The room smells of dog and old food and now, momentarily, the sulfur of the lit match. Dorr takes off his sunglasses again and drops them heavily on the table between them.

“So Elliot Analect sent you to check up on me,” he says.

“He just said he thought it would be good if Bishop and I came to say hello.”

“Bishop?” Dorr almost laughs. “Bishop’s afraid of me. He’s probably off fucking some eleven-year-old.”

“I haven’t seen much of him since we’ve been here.”

“He left you behind, yes?”

“Not really.”

“Yes, left behind. Worse places to be left behind, though. Even make a life here.” Dorr places the pack of cigarettes carefully on the table. “Have everything you like. Fuck a different child every day of the week. The children you make and the children you fuck, yes? The closer they are together the longer it all lasts.”

Mike reaches for a cigarette.

“So how’s Elliot?” Dorr exhales blue smoke.

“I don’t really know, you know, I’m just an intern.”

“Just an intern?” Dorr laughs out loud and the sound dissolves into hacking coughs.

“Harrison Stirrat brought me here,” Mike says, and Dorr laughs and coughs again even harder.

56