The Master Falconer Read Online Free PDF Page A

the car shining in the moon. It’s parked behind the willows out front.”
    She said, “Are you sure it’s him?”
    “Who else would drive a white Cadillac onto the res?” he said.
    She reached for the bed lamp but Nate stopped her, whispered, “Keep it dark in here.”
     
     
    NATE SMELLED THE SMOKE of strong cigarettes long before he saw the car. He had gone out the back door of Alisha’s house, forded the creek, and looped far around her lot so he could approach the Escalade from behind. He kept inside the brush, breathing evenly, stepping slowly and quietly, his gun hanging loosely at his side.
    The interior of the SUV was dark, but as Nate stood and looked, letting his eyes adjust, he could see the familiar blocky head at three-quarter-rear profile behind the wheel. Khalid turned his head slightly and Nate could see the orange glow of his cigarette ash.
    Nate looked around. The powwow grounds near Alisha’s home were empty except for the naked pole frames of tipis and the tall Sun Dance pole that shone blue in the moonlight. Dried leather ropes hung down from the Sun Dance pole and waved gently like kelp in the night breeze. The structures should have been dismantled weeks ago, after the powwow, but in the Indian way, they weren’t.
    Nate thought of his birds. He thought of Shorty’s face bubbling blood. He thought of that white Escalade following Alisha to school. And he thought of mosques and madrassas all over the world, teaching the young to hate.
    Khalid was genuinely surprised when Nate reached in through his window and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, and he started to say something but his open mouth filled with the huge muzzle of a .454.
    “Do you know what a Sun Dance is?” Nate asked. “It’s a way for a boy to become a man.”
     
     
    THE CURTAIN PARTED on a cabin window of the 737 and Rocky looked out. Even at that height and distance, Rocky’s face looked pale and his eyes bleary from alcohol and lack of sleep. It was minutes before dawn and the eastern sky was washed with a deep pink about to dissolve into the first blast of morning sun.
    Nate stood up in his Jeep and gestured to the heavy wooden crate that filled his backseat. There were holes in the crate.
    Rocky’s face vanished from the window.
    Nate stood in the cold of dawn, feeling the last rush of icy pre-morning breeze flow across the tarmac as if looking for a place to hide until it was dark again. A meadowlark warbled somewhere behind him.
    Nate turned to the crate. He could hear the rustle of feathers, and one of the birds answered the meadowlark with a sharp chirp.
    The door of the airplane opened. Rocky stood in a bathrobe, one hand shielding his eyes from the light and the other waving Nate in. Nate climbed the stairs carrying the crate, and he could smell fetid alcohol and strong garlicky sweat through Rocky’s skin. “Late night, huh?”
    “Come in, come in, so I can close the door.”
    Nate stepped inside the dark cabin.
    “You brought the birds?” Rocky asked.
    “What does it look like?” Nate asked.
    Rocky nodded, uncomprehending. “You are here much too early. Let me wake my father.”
    Nate sat while Rocky walked gingerly through the cabin, as if the sound of his footsteps hurt his head. The darkness of the plane seemed to have calmed the birds in the crate, although he could still hear them rustling inside. In a few minutes, Nate heard the low rumble of Arabic through the door.
    While he waited, Nate perused the movie library and selected Fort Apache with John Wayne. John Ford directing. A classic. He got it running and the dark cabin flickered with screaming Indians and frightened soldiers.
    Al-Nura entered fitting his headscarf on. Nate appreciated the formality, in a way.
    “You are early,” Al-Nura said, settling down in his big chair. Rocky followed. Al-Nura’s eyes lit up when he noticed the crate. “Six of them?”
    “Seven, actually,” Nate said.
    “You flatter me.”
    Nate said