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real trouble started.
    ‘There doesn’t seem to have been anything funny going on here in Gallup. I spoke with a young guy at their hotel who told me they were heading off to Arizona and they were alone.’
    ‘When was that?’
    ‘Tuesday morning.’
    ‘A lot could’ve happened between then and now. How’d you know the guy hadn’t been in their room with them?’
    ‘From the forlorn look on his face when I flashed him their pictures,’ I laughed.
    ‘So what’s your plan, buddy?’
    ‘Something happened a couple hours away from here. I don’t think the girls were involved, but it won’t do any harm to talk with the local cops.’
    ‘What kinda somethin’?’
    ‘A gas station robbery where a few people were killed. It probably had nothing to do with them, but I want to check things out.’
    ‘And you couldn’t have done that from the office?’
    ‘I fancied a drive,’ I said.
    ‘It’s a good job I’ve got McTeer and Velasquez to pick up your load,’ Rink grumbled. ‘I’m taking a couple days out myself, brother.’
    ‘Going to visit the good lady vet?’
    ‘Yup. My boosters are due a top-up.’
    ‘Well, tell Rene hello from me, and enjoy yourself.’
    ‘How am I gonna do that with you charging around unchaperoned?’
    ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy. And this thing with the girls . . . well, what exactly could go wrong?’
    ‘I wish you hadn’t asked that.’
    ‘Go, Rink. Get yourself up to Rene’s and have a good time, and don’t worry about me.’
    ‘Yeah, right.’
    ‘Stop being an old lady.’
    I hung up while he was still swearing at me, and watched a waitress approaching with a fresh jug of coffee. I’d been trying to cut down on caffeine lately. Allegedly I drank far too much of the stuff. Maybe it was the caffeine buzz that turned me into a lit fuse. No, my impulsive nature went deeper than that. I could feel a bubbling in my guts that had nothing to do with stimulants, and everything to do with the thrill of the hunt. I held out my empty mug. ‘Top me up, please.’

5
    My flight from Florida to New Mexico came with a small drawback. In the past I’d managed to take my gun on to flights with me. On a number of occasions I’d used fake air marshal documents and on the others I’d been given special dispensation by the government, but neither was the case this time. Grabbing the first available flight, I hadn’t had the time to organise anything. I was licensed to carry a firearm in Florida, but that didn’t extend beyond the state line, so I had to lock my SIG in the trunk of my Audi when parking it at Panama City. I hadn’t even brought a knife along with me. I felt naked without them.
    I had to rectify that situation, because, despite what I’d said to Jameson Walker and to Rink, I had the horrible feeling that I might need a weapon before I was finished. On occasion our mutual friend, Harvey Lucas, had supplied both Rink and me with weaponry, as Harvey had a network of contacts throughout the States, but they tended to be specialist firearms. Knives were easy to come by, but I’d have felt much better getting my hands on a gun.
    There wasn’t much call for hunting supplies in that corner of Gallup, but I found a pawn shop where I picked up a sturdy lock-knife with a five-inch blade. Folded, it fit neatly into my jeans pocket. The shop also had guns, but the owner was adamant that he’d have to fill in the obligatory paperwork and I’d get the gun I wanted after a few days. That didn’t work for me, so I left with only the knife.
    I headed out on Route 66, making steady progress for Arizona. By then the sun was setting and I drove towards a horizon that was on fire, while behind me it was inky black. There was no moon out, but the stars were vivid sparks in the heavens. As I drove, the rail tracks paralleled the road for a while and I had a freight train keeping me company. The clatter of the wheels had a lulling effect. I found a radio station playing