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〃Agreed。 How do you propose we leave the city？〃
〃I've got a plan for that too。〃
〃I don't like any of your plans； Darby。 These thugs are breathing down your neck； and now you're getting me in the middle of it。 This is not what I wanted。 It's much safer to do it my way。 Safer for you； safer for me。〃
〃But you'll be there at noon； won't you？〃
He stood by the bed and spoke with his eyes closed。 〃Yes。 I'll be there。 I just hope you make it。〃
〃How tall are you？〃
〃Five…ten。〃
〃How much do you weigh？〃
〃I was afraid of this。 I usually lie； you know。 Two hundred； but I plan to lose it。 I swear。〃
〃I'll see you tomorrow； Gavin。〃
〃I hope I see you； dear。〃
She was gone。 He hung up。 〃Son of a bitch！〃 he yelled to the walls。 〃Son of a bitch！〃 He walked along the end of the bed a few times； then to the bathroom； where he closed the door and turned on the shower。
He cussed her in the shower for ten minutes； then stepped out； and dried himself。 It was more like two hundred and fifteen pounds； and all of it was situated badly on the five…nine frame。 It was painful to look at。 Here he was； about to meet this gorgeous woman who suddenly trusted him with her life； and what a slob he was。
He opened the door。 The room was dark。 Dark？ He had left on the lights。 What the hell？ He headed for the switch next to the dresser。
The first blow crushed his larynx。 It was a perfect blow that came from the side； somewhere near the wall。 He grunted painfully and fell to one knee； which made the second blow so easy； like an ax on a fat log。 It hit like a rock at the base of the skull； and Gavin was dead。
Khamel flipped on a light； and looked at the pitiful nude figure frozen on the floor。 He was not one to admire his work。 He didn't want carpet burns； so he lifted the pudgy corpse onto his shoulders and laid it across the bed。 Working quickly without any wasted motion； Khamel turned on the television and raised it to full volume； unzipped his bag； removed a cheap。25 caliber automatic； and placed it precisely on the right temple of the late Gavin Verheek。 He covered the gun and the head with two pillows； and pulled the trigger。 Now the critical part： he took one pillow and placed it under the head； threw the other one on the floor； and carefully curled the fingers of the right hand around the pistol； leaving it twelve inches from the head。
He took the recorder from under the bed； and ran the telephone wire directly into the wall。 He punched a button； listened； and there she was。 He turned off the television。
Every job was different。 He had once stalked his prey for three weeks in Mexico City； then caught him in bed with two prostitutes。 It was a dumb mistake； and during his career he had been assisted by numerous dumb mistakes by the opposition。 This guy was a dumb mistake； a stupid lawyer pilfering around running his mouth； passing out cards with his room number on the back。 He had stuck his nose into the world of big…league killing； and look at him now。
With a little luck； the cops would look around the room for a few minutes and declare it to be another suicide。 They would go through the motions and ask themselves a couple of questions they could not answer； but there were always some of those。 Because he was an important FBI lawyer； an autopsy would be done in a day or so； and probably by Tuesday an examiner would suddenly discover it was not a suicide。
By Tuesday； the girl would be dead and he would be in Managua。
* * *
HIS USUAL； official sources at the White House denied any knowledge of the pelican brief。 Sarge had never heard of it。 Long…shot phone calls to the FBI produced nothing。 A friend at Justice denied ever hearing about it。 He dug all weekend； and had nothing to show for it。 The story about Cal…lahan was verified when he found a copy of the New Orleans paper。 When her call came in at the newsroom Monday； he had nothing fresh to tell her。 But at least she called。
The Pelican said she was at a pay phone； so don't bother。
〃I'm still digging；〃 he said。 〃If there's such a brief in town； it's being closely protected。〃
〃I assure you it's there； and I understand why it's being protected。〃
〃I'm sure you can tell me more。〃
〃Lots more。 The brief almost got me killed yesterday； so I may be ready to talk sooner than I thought。 I need to spill my guts while I'm still alive。〃
〃Who's trying to kill you？〃
〃Same people who killed Rosenberg and Jensen； and Thomas Callahan。〃
〃Do you know their names？〃
〃No； but I've seen at least four of them since Wednesday。 They're here in New Orleans； snooping around； hoping I'll do something stupid and they can kill me。〃
〃How many people know about the pelican brief？〃
〃Good question。 Callahan took it to the FBI； and I think from there it went to the White House where it evidently caused quite a fuss； and from there who knows。 Two days after he handed it to the FBI； Callahan was dead。 I； of course； was supposed to have been killed with him。〃
〃Were you with him？〃
〃I was close； but not close enough。〃
〃So you're the unidentified female on the scene？〃
〃That's how the paper described me。〃
〃Then the police have your name？〃
〃My name is Darby Shaw。 I am a second…year law student at Tulane。 Thomas Callahan was my professor and lover。 I wrote the brief； gave it to him； and you know the rest。 Are you getting all this？〃
Grantham scribbled furiously。 〃Yes。 I'm listening。〃
〃I'm rather tired of the French Quarter； and I plan to leave today。 I'll call you from somewhere tomorrow。 Do you have access to presidential campaign disclosure forms？〃
〃It's public record。〃
〃I know that。 But how quickly can you get the information？〃
〃What information？〃
〃A list of all major contributors to the President's last election。〃
〃That's not difficult。 I can have it by this afternoon。〃
〃Do that； and I'll call you in the morning。〃
〃Okay。 Do you have a copy of the brief？〃
She hesitated。 〃No； but it's memorized。〃
〃And you know who's doing the killing？〃
〃Yes； and as soon as I tell you； they'll put your name on the hit list。〃
〃Tell me now。〃
〃Let's take it slow。 I'll call you tomorrow。〃
Grantham listened hard； then hung up。 He took his notepad and zigzagged through the maze of desks and people to the glass office of his editor； Smith Keen。 Keen was a hale and hearty type with an open…door policy that ensured chaos in his office。 He was finishing a phone chat when Grantham barged in and closed the door。
〃That door stays open；〃 Keen said sharply。
〃We have to talk； Smith。〃
〃We'll talk with the door open。 Open the damned door。〃
〃I'll open it in just a second。〃 Grantham spoke with both palms facing the editor。 Yes； it was serious。 〃Let's talk。〃