Los Alamos by Joseph Kanon

Author:Joseph Kanon
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical, Thriller
ISBN: 9780316641289
Publisher: Wheeler Pub Inc
Published: 1996-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

As a V-E celebration, he took Mills to dinner in Santa Fe, following Holliday’s car down the back road, past Bandelier and the Rio Grande Valley and the humpy stretches of twisted piñon and red earth. The plaza was crowded, the sleepy square awake with people waving little flags and drinking openly, shouting victory with the bells of the cathedral. It was early, but La Fonda was packed, and they spent an hour at the bar before they could get a table.

“Do you really think he’s FBI?” Connolly said, indicating the bartender.

“That’s what they say. Makes a great martini, though,” Mills said, sipping at the rim of the wide glass.

“Maybe he’ll go legit after the war. A good bartender’s never out of work.”

“The FBI always finds something for them to do.”

“What about you?”

“After? A nice house on the North Shore. Nice office with a window. Wacker Drive, I think. How does that sound?”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, I know, dull as hell. Christ, it’s something, isn’t it, to think this might be the most exciting time of your life? And all I did was not get shot.”

Dinner arrived, a broad platter of chiles rellenos, and Mills ordered another martini.

“You could catch a murderer,” Connolly said. “That’s exciting.”

“You catch him.”

“He’s on the Hill,” Connolly said slowly.

“I know. I figured, what with the car and all.” He ate.

“That what you and Holliday were talking about?”

Connolly nodded.

“You think he’s still up there?”

“Yes.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, why should it?”

“It scares the hell out of me. Did it ever occur to you that if he did it once, he’d do it again?”

“But we don’t know why he did it.”

“The motive’s easier this time. You get away with murder and some guy tracks you down to nail you for it. So you nail him first. You’d have to.”

“Two guys tracking you,” Connolly said, looking at him.

“That’s what I mean. I’ve never been a target before.”

“Do you want to be reassigned?” Connolly asked seriously.

Mills went back to his food. “No, that’s all right.” He smiled. “You’ve got me interested now. Just watch my back, will you? Be nice to get back to old Winnetka in one piece.”

“He doesn’t know,” Connolly said. “He doesn’t know I know he’s there.”

Mills raised his eyes again. “He knows you’re looking.”

So they celebrated the end of the Third Reich with martinis and chiles rellenos, as if the war had caught them posted somewhere overseas. Afterward, pressured to give up the table, they walked out into the plaza, where people were shouting in Spanish, slightly rowdy but good-natured. It was beginning to get dark, the warm pink and coral of the adobes fading back to earth.

“Do me a favor,” Connolly said. “Let’s drive down to San Isidro.”

“There’s nothing to see there. They’ve been all over it a hundred times.”

“I know. I just want to be able to picture it in my mind. Indulge me, okay?”

“For a change.”

It was slow going over the Cerrillos bridge, with the streets still filled with pockets of celebration parties, but they thinned as the road headed south, past gas stations and quiet houses.

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