The Triggerman Dance

He waits for his host in the living room, looking into the red-orange glow of the fire. When Holt finally comes down he has got a tumbler full of ice and Scotch in each hand. He gives one to John but says nothing, simply motions with his head and leads John down into the basement, the Trophy Room.

When the lights go on, John acts surprised by the wildlife dioramas around him. Even this, his second viewing, fills him with awe, almost a child's sense of wonder. Animals from all over the world—the biggest, the best and the most beautiful. Animals he could never even identify.

"I've never seen anything like this, Mr. Holt."

"You won't. Half of them are illegal to take anymore."

Holt guides him. He tells him about the hunts, the circumstances, the weather, the guides, the shots. He seems most proud of the Kodiak bear. It towers above them, ten feet tall, at least, with a gleam in its eyes that is utterly convincing.

"Biggest flesh eater on land," Holt says. "Fifteen hundred forty-seven pounds. Took me three weeks on the island to find this one. Another three days to get a shot at him. Thought I was going to lose some toes to frostbite. Didn't care. One shot knocked him ass-over-teakettle. Broke the backbone, clean. Should have heard him. Kind of sound that stays in your dreams for years."

Holt leads the tour. Asia. India. North America. Africa. Central America.

"Talked to Baum?"

"She said Sunday noon would be her best time. Day after tomorrow. Does that fit your schedule?"

Holt ignores John's question, as he often does. Instead of answering he takes a slow drink of his Scotch and continues his tour through the exhibits.

"Where will she meet you?" he asks.

"Newport Harbor Art Museum. She's going to a fundraiser that starts at one o'clock. She said she'd fit me in before."

"Can you get her here with minimal drama?"

"I thought I'd meet her in the parking lot, when she's heading in. It's a good-sized lot, off to the side of the building. I've been there."

Holt nods, perhaps pleased that John has given this errand some forethought. He looks up at the bull elephant, then moves toward Australia. John remains beside him. He notes that Holt's brow furrows briefly then relaxes, as if some problem has been raised and solved.

"Good, John. When you come back in with her, the guard at the gate will wave you through. You won't have to stop. Don't stop at the Big House, either. Just head up past the groves into the hills. Bring her to Top of the World. I'll be there."

"Why Top of the World?"

They arrive back on Kodiak Island. Holt looks up at the bear. "We'll have lunch there, Baum and I. Plan on joining us Great view of everything. Nice place to talk. Don't you think?"

What John thinks is: a nice place to off someone. No one around to see or hear.

"It's perfect for that."

Holt finishes his drink, still examining the towering bear "Lane took off the right inside handle of your truck door. If she gets antsy once you two are on the road, too bad."

"Thank you. I gave some thought to her appointment calendar, though. I mean, she probably wrote me in somewhere. It's possible she'll tell her husband or her bosses she's meeting me before the function."

"Don't worry about that—you didn't get to the museum after all. Truck crapped out, starter. You've got me for an alibi. Lane, too. And Val. Getting her here is the important thing. Nobody's going to look for you here because nobody knows where you are."

"That's what I came up with."

Will he kill me when he's done with Baum?, John thinks. Half of him feels gratitude that he and Baum will be miles away from Top of the World when Joshua and his Federales take down Holt. The other half of him wishes he could be there to see it, to see this animal face his hunter.

"So, do I tell her we're coming to see you?"

"I wouldn't. But tell her anything you want. Just get her here."

"Consider it done."

Holt turns and stares at John with his cool gray eyes. A little smile creeps to his mouth. "You're a good man."

John says nothing, returning the stare, hoping he really looks as stupid as he's trying to seem.

"I want you to see something now," Holt says. "I want you to look at it. I don't want you to say a word. I want you to think about it after we leave here. Tomorrow night, if you've changed your mind about this arrangement, you'll have a chance to tell me. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Holt presses a button on the railing in front of the diorama and the scene in Kodiak gives way to a parking lot. No animals. No rocks. Just asphalt, and one eucalyptus tree with a thick white trunk that rises from a planter filled with Iceland poppies. A new Lincoln Town Car is parked in a space marked "Baum." The backdrop is a blown-up photograph of the Journal building.