The Goodbye Man

by Jeffery Deaver

  “Call the police?”

  Shaw said no to that too. “I need more proof. And remember that the local sheriff’ll tip off Eli and evidence’ll disappear. He will too. And, I’m afraid, witnesses.”

  Soon they broke from the forest and walked down a gentle, grassy grade toward the highway.

  Abby asked, “So, like, what’s our cover story for any drivers who’ll stop? I mean, we got lost on a hike?”

  It was a good question, one he hadn’t thought of. “Let’s blame it on my bad driving.”

  Once they hit the state route, it took only five minutes to flag down a car. This quartet of fugitives—an older couple with their son and daughter—presented about as low a threat as could be. A Dodge Caravan stopped. It was driven by a young husband and wife.

  Shaw explained that he’d stupidly driven off road to get a closer look at a waterfall and the car cracked an axle. AAA was on the way. He’d stay with the car. But he didn’t want his parents and sister to wait here in the heat and sun. Could the couple please take them to a motel somewhere along their route? They gladly agreed. The husband shook his head about the axle—the sort of mishap that even the most talented of automotive Good Samaritans can’t help fix, which is why Shaw picked it.

  No shoulder salutes now. Shaw hugged them all goodbye.

  Abby’s grip was especially hard. She whispered, “Thanks, mister. I mean, really.”

  Once the vehicle was out of sight, Shaw turned around and jogged hard the two miles back to the camp.

  When he arrived, he caught his breath and walked from the woods. He stepped into the Square, heading for his dorm. A cluster of men stood in front of it, talking among themselves: Eli, Hugh, the two bodyguards—Squat and Gray—and several other AUs. Steve too. With them was a tall, slim Companion, his back to Shaw.

  The man turned and removed his orange-framed sunglasses. It was Frederick, from the site of Adam’s death. And, yes, he was the man who’d been looking Shaw over earlier at the Discourse.

  His eyes narrowed and he said something to Eli and Hugh. Then pointed a long, lean finger directly Shaw’s way.

  52.

  Shaw recalled the beating of the reporter. Face cracked, dislocated shoulder.

  One noisy, one silent. Both excruciating.

  He calculated he was a good twenty feet from his only weapons: the war clubs he’d made earlier. And thirty from the cover of the forest.

  A glance at the ground underfoot. Gravel. Not good for traction, especially with the slipper-like shoes. He stepped toward the men so he would meet them on a patch of lawn. He kept a look of benign curiosity on his face. To allay suspicions and give himself the chance for a surprise strike.

  He’d believed Hugh was not armed, though it was likely Squat and Gray were.

  He was walking toward Frederick, the logical course, since he was the one who had pointed to Shaw. This would take Shaw past the guards. His plan: do a wrestling takedown of one of them, and search for and seize his pistol. Squat had a lower center of gravity and would be harder to body slam. Also, Gray’s military bearing suggested that if anyone were armed it would be him. So, Gray would be the target.

  Shaw would get him down, hard, and then go for a gun. Because a weapon didn’t present under his clothing in an obvious way, it would be an automatic, slimmer than a revolver. Shaw would draw the slide to chamber a round, even if it meant ejecting—and losing—one bullet.

  He could cover Eli and the others and get away.

  If there was a weapon.

  If he could rack the slide in time.

  If Hugh and Squat weren’t armed as well and didn’t draw and fire first.

  And if there was no gun?

  He decided that the only way he could prevail against Hugh in hand-to-hand was surprise, and that would have been lost in his assault on Gray. He’d seen Hugh’s expertise in martial arts. He was physically fit and emotionally detached. There had been no feeling in the assault on the reporter the other day. The calm opponent has the upper hand over the excited.

  As for technique, Shaw knew no close-combat moves like Hugh’s.

  Never use your fists; too easy to break your own fingers or wrist. Grapple to the ground, then elbows and knees.

  Still he’d do what he could, getting in close and using another wrestling takedown. Lift from low, and drive his opponent onto his back.

  His odds? Without the surprise, probably thirty percent.

  And adding to the mix: two dozen Foundation members were within fifty feet. Loyalists would rush in to save their Guiding Beacon. Maybe even sacrifice themselves to save their spiritual leader from a Toxic. If they’d trued-up, death would mean nothing to them.

  Chances of a successful escape?

  Thirty percent.

  Shaw kept a smile on his face and casually continued toward Frederick, who gazed back with a knowing expression.

  When he was about three feet from Gray, Eli said something to Hugh and both men turned toward Shaw, who lowered his center of gravity and got ready to step into Gray, dip low and sweep his leg out from under him, drop him. The weathered man was right-handed. A gun would be holstered on that hip.

  Three steps, two . . .

  Shaw tensed, preparing physically—and mentally—to take on five opponents.

  53.

  Shaw was five feet from Gray when Eli turned and glanced his way. The cult leader smiled broadly and gave the shoulder salute, calling out, “Apprentice Carter, thank you, thank you!” To the other he said, “Is he gorgeous or what? I told you so. Didn’t I say he was a star?”

  Mystified, Shaw slowed and tipped his head, returning the salute.

  Steve said, “Thank you, Apprentice Carter.”

  Best to keep it short and sweet until he sussed out what was happening. A nod.

  Frederick joined them.

  Eli looked his way. “Journeyman Frederick here was just telling us what happened. Please. Go on.”

  The man said, “Apprentice Carter came up to me and said he saw Novices Walter and Sally and Abby breaking out of the luggage building and running into the woods. There were no AUs around, so Apprentice Carter and I went after them ourselves.” He looked at Shaw. “We thought they might be working for competitors, stealing secrets. Right?”

  Shaw nodded.

  “We couldn’t tell which direction they went, so we split up. I spotted them in the Henderson Ravine. I ran back and told Journeyman Hugh.”

  The head AU said, “We put together a team.”

  Shaw, playing a role in a charade he didn’t understand, said to Hugh, “Did you find them?”

  “No.”

  There’d been no search. He knew about the ravine, which you’d hit if you turned north out of the fence, not east toward the road. The gully led to a maze of canyons, falls, no roads to speak of. Not even logging trails. Eli and Hugh were happy to let them die in the woods.

  Witnesses . . .

  Eli said, “Terrible. Such a shame. What were they thinking? And that poor girl.” He looked at Shaw. “She’s only in college, you know.”

  You mean, high school. Shaw shook his head sympathetically.

  “Send out some men. Have Sheriff Calhoun assign some of his too. We’ll hope we can find them.”

  “I will, Master Eli,” Hugh said.

  This was spoken for Shaw’s benefit. There would be no search party. Things had worked out for the best. The only other complaining witness in the statutory rape would be dead in a day or two.

  Eli’s eyes went to Hugh. “Such a shame,” he repeated.

  But the missing persons and their convenient demise seemed to vanish from Eli’s mind. He moved on, turning his magnetic blue eyes on Frederick and Shaw. “Thank you for your efforts on behalf of the Foundation.” A salute Shaw’s way. Then Eli’s eyes abruptly narrowed and he said, “Those men? In the hel
icopter? It’s all a pack of lies.”

  A frown crossed Shaw’s face. “Of course. People envy greatness.”

  “Yes! I like that! ‘Envy greatness.’” Eli glanced toward Steve, who wrote in his thick notebook, apparently memorializing the phrase. Shaw wondered if he’d just coined a new chant.

  Eli, Hugh and the AU goons returned to the main residence, where presumably a war room had been set up to consider how to confront the investigation into Gary Yang’s death.

  Leaving Shaw to shoot a glance to Frederick, whose eyes said, Yes, let’s talk.

  * * *

  —

  The man waited until no one was within earshot. “I saw you on that hill—above the cliff where Journeyman Adam jumped.”

  “I thought somebody was there,” Shaw told him. “The orange sunglasses.”

  Frederick said, “Not really part of the Foundation uniform. Eli likes to see people’s eyes. But I’m good and obedient. He doesn’t mind some harmless nonconformity. That’s what he calls it. So. You’re wondering why I didn’t turn you in to Hugh.”

  Went without saying.

  “Gut feel, I guess. I saw your face after Adam died. You were upset, man. But I couldn’t figure it out when I saw you here a couple of days later. You didn’t seem like a cop. Maybe a reporter, investigative reporter, you know, writing about the Foundation. Master Eli warns us about them all the time. The Toxic Media. But Adam hadn’t been involved in the Foundation for a while, so you probably didn’t know he was a Companion.”

  Shaw had to add, “No. I didn’t know anything about the Foundation then.”

  Frederick’s eyes burned, angry. “A month ago I would’ve said his death doesn’t matter. His True Core would surface in the Tomorrow. But now? Hell, it’s all bullshit: everything Eli’s trying to sell. Now, I’m awake.” Frederick examined Shaw. “What were you doing there?”

  “Adam was wanted for a crime near Tacoma.”

  The man was surprised. “Adam? He was messed up. But he wasn’t into anything criminal—not for years.”

  “A shooting. I think it was self-defense.”

  Shaw realized now that Adam had been in the cemetery, where he met Erick, to kill himself by his mother’s grave. That was why Adam had had the pistol. Now that Shaw knew Eli’s poisonous teaching, he realized that was the man’s mission. He’d changed his mind—at least temporarily—when he saw he could help Erick get over the loss of his brother.

  Shaw explained about the shooting and about the case, that Adam probably would have gotten off.

  “That son of a bitch. Eli. He teaches everybody, oh, just go ahead and advance—just kill yourself—and you’ll wake up in the Tomorrow. Some little setback? You can start over and everything’ll be great. And Adam was just the kind to believe that bullshit. He was depressed, lonely. Those’re the ones Eli preys on.”

  Shaw asked, “Why’d you stay?”

  “I was leaving at the end of season. He pays well. Need the money.” Frederick shrugged. “Haven’t exactly built up a lot of skills here that translate to the outside.”

  “You were close to him?” Shaw asked. “Adam?”

  The man hesitated. “I wanted to be more than friends, you know, but he wasn’t interested. That was fine, once we got it established. Fine with me. I liked, you know, talking to him. It’s tough here. It gets lonely.

  “We could bitch and moan. I had my problems too. I came out when I was sixteen. My stepfather exploded. He screamed and raged that I was going to hell.” Frederick’s face was almost amused. “I never really got why he was upset. He never liked me, doesn’t like gays. So wouldn’t he be happy I was going to hell?” Frederick looked over toward Shaw. “You’re not ‘Carter’ then?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  The rich scent of damp smoke wafted their way on a cool breeze.

  “You’re an undercover cop?”

  “Like a private eye.” He added that he’d come here to see why Adam died and if he could help anyone else at risk, like Victoria. He told Frederick about how Hugh bullied and tried to grope her on the cliff.

  “I saw that. Hugh’s an asshole. He’s got a whole system worked out. If you break the rules, or just seem to break the rules, he’ll give you demerits. That can set your training back. Enough of them and you might not become a Journeyman, and have to start all over again. At the cliff, he was spouting Rule 14 at Victoria. You can’t be upset when somebody dies. It means you don’t believe in the Process.

  “Of course, if you’re a woman, and willing, you can come visit him and he’ll erase the demerits. That can also accelerate your training.” He looked Shaw over. “And then there’s the fee arrangements.”

  “You mean the bequests in the will for lifetime memberships?”

  “No.” Frederick gave a cynical laugh. “You pay a fixed fee, seventy-five hundred, right? Except not. Remember, you have to send a picture in? Why do you think that is?” He gave a cynical laugh. “Pretty young girls and guys get in for a hundred, two. Sometimes for free.”

  “The Study Room.”

  A nod.

  Shaw was surprised he hadn’t figured that out. Nearly all the women here were under thirty and attractive.

  “You saw me helping Walter, Sally and Abby. You’ve been following me for the past couple of days. It was you, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You did a good job. Are you military?”

  “No. Just I used to go hunting with my father. My real father. We were close. Lost him a few years ago. That’s why I’m here. It was tougher than I thought, him dying.”

  “I can usually spot tails. You were good.”

  Frederick said, “I was in camo. There’s some outfits for the Selects. So? Walter, Sally and that girl?”

  “They’re nowhere near here.”

  “Why’d you get them out?”

  “Abby’s sixteen.”

  A look of dismay crossed Frederick’s face. “Jesus. Eli took her to the Study Room? He’d go down for statutory rape.”

  “You hear about the car fire?”

  “What fire?”

  “John—the Novice—found out about Abby. Eli and Hugh had a Select kill him then himself. Murder-suicide. Eli was going to get rid of Abby too, I was sure. I asked Walter and Sally to get her out.” Shaw looked over the slim man’s face. “What’s going on in the camp? What did Eli say about the helicopter?”

  “He told the Inner Circle that some Toxic trumped up charges against him. He told the police that. They believed him and they went away. That’s what he said.”

  “It’s not going away.” Shaw explained about the death of the journalist in San Francisco.

  “And you’re worried it could get ugly here, if the police come back. You know, standoffs like at Ruby Ridge, Waco, Jonestown?”

  “I’ve seen the faces of the staff and some of the Companions. They’d fight for him. Some of them would die for him.”

  Frederick asked, “That’s why you didn’t leave with the others.”

  “I’m going to bring him down.”

  “What’re you planning?”

  “I need evidence before he destroys it. Business and phone records, emails, memos. Something that shows money laundering, extortion, orders to kill the journalist, other people who’re threats.”

  Two stern AUs passed. The four of them traded shoulder salutes. When the guards were past, Frederick said, “His office is off the Study Room.”

  “I was there. I didn’t see any offices.”

  “It’s hidden. As you face the bed—that circular bed? It’s against the right wall, in the mural of Osiris.”

  Shaw remembered the painting.

  Frederick said, “I saw inside one time. There were files on a desk and a computer. Bookshelves. File cabinets.”

  Computer, Shaw thought. Contact with the
outside world.

  “Is the door locked?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You know any side or back entrances to the residence?”

  “One in back, I think.”

  “Security cameras?”

  “I don’t know. But the residence is never empty. There’re always AUs around. And Inner Circles. Eli and Anja and Steve. Those two cold-fish bodyguards.”

  The loudspeaker musical notes resounded and Shaw and Frederick fell silent.

  “All Companions are requested to assemble in the Square.”

  The no-nonsense directive was repeated.

  It was the improvised Discourse.

  As the two men walked toward the Square, Shaw asked, “What do you think? Does Eli actually believe what he preaches?”

  “I’ve wondered that.” Frederick waved his hand around the camp. “I sometimes think he does, and he’s created this whole philosophy to save the world from depression and loss. His temper, his need for control, his anger, his mercenary side, his . . . appetite for the women, and men, that’s just who he is. And, look at it one way, if he does believe it, then murder’s not really murder. You’re just sending a soul into a future life.”

  Tough argument to make in court.

  Frederick continued, “Or he could think it’s pure bullshit. But I’ll tell you one thing: Whether he’s in it for the money or to save souls, he’s not giving it up without a fight. No way.”

  54.

  The stage was empty at the moment, and many of the Companions were abuzz.

  But not all. Others stood in solemn clusters, expressions of uncertainty on their faces.

  Shaw looked for Victoria. Didn’t see her.

  “What’s this about?” Frederick wondered aloud.

  Shaw said, “I’m betting diversion, something to take our minds off the helicopter and Carole’s heresy.”

  He heard a cheerful voice behind them. “Apprentice Carter. Journeyman Frederick.”

  Shaw turned and nodded. “Journeyman Samuel.”

  “Always that delicious sense of anticipation, times like this. Even in the Inner Circle, we don’t always know what our Guiding Beacon is up to.”