The Goodbye Man
- Автор: Дивер Джеффри
- Серия: Colter Shaw #2
- Год: 2020
- Язык: английский
- Год: G. P. Putnam’s Sons
- ISBN: 978-0-525-53597-3
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Goodbye Man». Краткое содержание книги:
Turning away and continuing north, toward the front of the camp, he came eventually to the eerie gate and the tall wooden fence and followed it east. Where it ended deep in the woods a six-foot-high chain-link barrier ran from the fence to a steep drop-off onto rocks far below.
Eli sure didn’t want anybody leaving.
Or, Shaw reflected, entering without permission.
There was a padlocked gate in the chain link. Shaw debated. The lock was rusted, and the gate entwined with vines, the ground around it undisturbed. No one had been here for months. He found a rock and with a half-dozen blows broke off the hasp. The gate opened freely.
He could jog to the highway in twenty minutes.
So, he had his escape route.
A weapon?
Beethoven echoed through the camp. Then: “The time is six forty-five p.m. Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.”
Shaw returned to his dormitory, sat on the porch and sketched out a map of the compound.
In case the notebook was examined, he added some notes about what Samuel had told him in the initial interview — to make it seem that he was taking the whole thing seriously. When he was done, Shaw scanned the map, noting the locations of his dorm, the central square and stage, the Assistance Unit, Building 14, the three-story residence. And of course, the escape path to the east.
Shaw was going to put his book back in his room but then remembered one of the rules.
Keep your notebook and a pen with you at all times...
He headed for the dining hall and queued, nodding to and chatting with other Companions. And keeping an eye out for Frederick, the man with orange sunglasses, who had possibly seen him at the site of Adam’s death. Trouble was, Shaw wasn’t sure he’d recognize the Companion without the eyewear and hat.
He searched too for the brunette.
No sign of either.
Had she left the Foundation?
On the one hand, that would be a setback: her reaction at Adam’s suicide suggested they had a connection. She might help him fill in the dots about his death. On the other, it would mean she was out of harm’s way.
Another possibility. After her rejection of Hugh, had there been repercussions? Shaw recalled the man’s face contorted with anger and then his snide smile and threat of demerits as she walked away from him, and his sadistic glow as he broke the reporter’s bones. He was a man who obviously took pleasure in inflicting pain. Was she hurt? Or worse? Was Building 14 a morgue, and the brunette’s body was stashed there, after Hugh’s retribution got out of hand?
Anywhere else, anytime else, that idea would be absurd. Not here. Reality was suspended within the web of the Osiris Foundation.
The windowless, mysterious structure might very well be a house of the dead. Colter Shaw, though, suddenly learned that the woman was not a resident. Head down, she walked directly past Shaw and joined the end of the dining hall line. Without a word of greeting to anyone, she opened her densely filled notebook and began to write.
25
The iconic fifteen notes composed by the nearly deaf German genius sounded, echoing through the cool, dank evening.
“The time is seven p.m. Dinner is being served. All Companions please report to the dining hall.”
The doors opened and the crowd of about seventy shuffled into the brightly lit room that resembled any one of a thousand school cafeterias around the world. The smell was of grilled meat or fowl. The perfume of Lysol could be detected.
Just inside the doors was a large board: a seating chart. Since everyone — all three levels of Companions: Novice, Apprentice and Journeyman — stopped to look, Shaw guessed that Eli shuffled diners around. Was there a strategy to this? Maybe helping out newcomers who could benefit from the company of mentors.
Or keeping potential troublemakers separated.
Or was it merely another muscle flex on Master Eli’s part?
The majority of Companions were men in their thirties, forties and fifties, many with wives of about the same age. The next most common were young women, twenties and thirties. Shaw had expected more hippies — or hippies 2.0. At last, he noted a few Latinxs, Asian Americans and African Americans. A total of five.
Shaw spotted his place, Table 4, near the door, the opposite end of the room from the buffet line, which was on the far wall, near the kitchen. Shaw ignored his assignment and held back, watching where the brunette was going to sit.
She made her way to Table 7, several away from his. She sat, never looking up from her notebook. The pages were thick from the moisture of hands, humid air, ink. It seemed that she’d filled almost every page.
The tables were segregated by rank. Most of the diners wore the red amulets of the second level. There were three tables of Journeymen, and two of Novices. The Inner Circle Companions, sporting silver amulets, were not seated but stood against one wall, chatting among themselves.
When most people were seated, Shaw strolled up to Table 7 and sat, leaving one empty chair between him and the brunette. He nodded to the others: an older man, another who was tall and slim, and two women in their late twenties or early thirties. They regarded him with cautious politeness, as if he’d accidentally stepped into the wrong private dining room at a nice restaurant.
He turned to the brunette. “I’m Novice Carter.”
She looked up, blinking in surprise. Her pale gray eyes dipped to his blue amulet and grew wide with concern. She seemed speechless.
“How’s it going?” Shaw asked, giving the shoulder salute. He looked around. “What’s on the menu. Doesn’t smell too bad. Haven’t had a hot meal for a couple days, unless you consider a Big Mac hot.” He whispered, “Wouldn’t mind a beer, but I guess the bartender’s off duty. Permanently.” He laughed at his own feeble joke.
“I’m... I’m sorry but this is an Apprentice table.” She pointed to her red infinity sign. Her eyes held his momentarily, then fled to the oilcloth.
“Huh?”
She stammered a repetition. “An Apprentice table.”
“Oh.” He lowered his arm, feigning confusion.
“What do we have here, Apprentice Victoria?”
A familiar voice: Adelle’s. She’d changed her blouse. No blood. “Novice Carter.”
“Journeyman Adelle.” He frowned. “Something wrong?”
Victoria said, “I’m sorry, he just—”
Adelle: “There are assigned seats, Novice Carter.”
“There are?”
“The chart.” She pointed.
“Oh. Hey. Wasn’t paying much attention.”
She chided, “It’s one of the rules.”
Read them carefully. They do take them seriously...
“And Apprentice Victoria, you must remember that if someone breaks a rule, you call an AU or an IC immediately.”
Shaw recalled his cheat sheet: IC was Inner Circle. AU, Assistance Unit.
Adelle was continuing to speak to Victoria, her voice dull-edged but firm. “If you don’t call one of us right away...”