Thomas Perry - Dead Aim

She had realized that the best place where she could attempt to find a full and open relationship with a man was among men who had done exactly the same thing she had done. She had come and asked Michael Parish if there was any way she could come to work at the camp, or buy a long-term membership to make her regular visits at a cheaper rate. He had said he would think about it and keep her request in mind, so she had gone home and waited.

She had waited for weeks without hearing his reply, but then Michael had called unexpectedly and told her about this hunt. He had said he would let her join it for free while he thought about her request. She was becoming more confident by the minute. After all, who was either of them kidding? He knew that someday, she was going to inherit a whole lot of money. And she would probably, in the meantime, marry a man with some money. Parish knew he would get repaid with interest. He wasn’t being so magnanimous.

Today she was taking advantage of something practical that she had learned over the past couple of years: that of all human beings, the only ones who were welcome everywhere, at all times, were beautiful young women. She looked up at Tim through her lashes as he shoved her bag into the back seat, then held her door open for her. She climbed in. As Jimmy, the tall dark one, drove the car down the gravel driveway toward the gate, she opened the bag and pulled out her new Beretta S9000 with the short barrel, slipped it into her purse, then found two full magazines and put them into the compartment beside it. She was aware that two of the three men in the car were staring at her in fascination. She thought that was just about right.

As the car moved along the winding road toward the coast, Kira studied the photographs. She could see that the guy was a bit tired and a bit worried, not aware in at least the first shot that anybody was taking his picture. She put them into her purse and when her hand emerged again it held her cell phone. “Think it’s time to call Emily and Paul?”

Tim wobbled his head noncommittally, but from the driver’s seat came Jimmy’s voice. “Yeah, you can try. He’s had enough time to check in at a hotel, if L.A. is as far as he’s going.”

She dialed the number they had been given. “It’s busy,” she announced.

“Okay,” said Tim. “We know we’ve got to drive an hour and a half anyway. Parish will probably hear where he is by then and call us.”

“Right,” said Lee. “There’s no need to nag them.”

Kira put her phone away and stared out the window. Coming down through the national forest made it seem later than it was. There was always a hill baking in bright late-afternoon sun on the east side, and another in deep shadow on the west. She waited until she judged that she had let the right interval elapse before she spoke again. “Are you guys friends from before, or did you meet at the camp?”

In the front seat, Jimmy and Lee turned their heads, and she could see their eyes meet. That look passed between them, that awful look that said, We knew it: we knew she would turn out to be stupid.

Tim turned his blue eyes to her and said, “Lee and Jimmy knew each other before. I met them at the camp about six months ago. They haven’t said their last names or where they’re

from, and neither have I.”

She felt a gush of gratitude to him for answering. She knew the others would have left her question hanging in silence, and she would have hated that. Tim’s eyes were even better than she had thought at first. She did not even bother to construct a formulation in words. She acted on it, setting him apart from the others, making a distinction in her mind. She gave Tim her very best smile. She had known she would have to choose. When a girl was with three boys, they would eventually force her to, even if it was something they would all do together. They always had to know. She pursued his attention, to keep him looking at her. “But have you hunted with them before?”

“No,” he said. “We’ve all hunted, but we each went solo. With the safari crew, I mean.”

She laughed, making her eyes flash at him and throwing her hair back to show her perfect skin. She let the laugh become a lingering smile to let him see her small, perfect teeth. “It’s pretty funny when you say it that way.”

“That’s what it is,” said Tim.

“Not today, though. This is a party, and we get to do our own party planning. How do you think we should get him?”

“Beats me. Depends on where we find him, I guess.”

The conversation wasn’t very promising. Maybe Tim was feeling self-conscious because the other two were up there listening, and he couldn’t see their faces. “I think I’ll try calling again.”

This time she heard only a partial ring, and then Emily’s voice. “Yes?”

Kira clutched Tim’s forearm. “It’s me, Kira. Do you have a location?”

“Affirmative. He’s checked in at the Beverly Towers on Sunset, room 1503.”

“Great,” said Kira. “Thanks.”

“Good hunting.”

Kira turned off her telephone, and sighed. “He’s at the Beverly Towers on Sunset. Room 1503.”

“Wow,” said Lee. “That was easy.”

“Yeah, but popping him in a hotel isn’t. Whoever does it will be stuck way up on the fifteenth floor. If there are shots in a hotel room, somebody hears them. Then you only have three or four ways down, and the only place you can end up is the lobby,” said Jimmy.

“We’ll think of something,” Tim assured them.

“Yeah?” Jimmy’s voice was contemptuous. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s early. He’s checked in, but probably he won’t stay in his room all the time. He drove to L.A. for some reason. Maybe there’s somebody he wants to see, or something he wants to buy. Anyway, he’s got to eat. Maybe he’ll go out for that. Anything can happen.”

Kira decided to stay in the conversation to establish sides. “Tim’s right: anything can happen. We could get him just by being near his car.”

“It would have to be better than that,” Lee scoffed.

“The car was just an example,” Kira said. “Tim’s saying that it’s too soon to say it’s not doable. We’ll think of something. We will.”

The talk was an irritant, not quite an argument, just a general peevish dismissal of anything anyone said. But Kira didn’t allow herself to feel weary or discouraged. The talk was an annoyance, but she had used it to delineate the sides. By the time the car came to the top of the long hill that rose above Camarillo and over the invisible line into Los Angeles County, the distinctions had been made: Jimmy and Lee, the two friends from somewhere or other, were in the front seat sharing contemptuous glances and patronizing smirks about Kira and Tim, thinking they couldn’t see from the back seat.

She had become Tim’s ally. He owed her more than he probably had yet understood. The other two could make the cleverest sarcastic remarks about Tim that had ever been heard, and it meant nothing. The contest was over, and they were the losers. They knew it. She could tell that they knew it, because she could hear it in the bitter, disappointed tone of their voices. They were trying to convince themselves that it wasn’t a real loss because Tim wasn’t as cool as they were and Kira was too dumb to be credible, but the defeat was primal. The desirable girl-the only girl-had picked Tim, and not them. It didn’t matter whether her criteria were fair or wise: her choice was absolute and irrefutable. She could also tell from the disproportionate level of their irritation that they had each understood that this had not been an empty contest. There was a prize, and they were imagining exactly what having that prize would have been like.