Kevin drove them along Palos Verdes Drive, west toward Palos Verdes. Slater’s bugged phone sat on the dash, turned off.

Sam stared ahead, eyes sparkling. “If Slater can’t make contact, how can he play the game? He’s driven by the riddles, but if we neutralize his ability to communicate a riddle, then there isno riddle, is there? At the least he has to rethink his strategy.”

“Or blow up another bomb,” Kevin said.

“We’re not technically breaking one of his rules. He detonates a bomb and he’sbreaking the rules of engagement. I don’t think Slater will do that.”

Kevin thought about Sam’s plan. On one hand, it felt good to be doing something—anything—besides waiting. The idea made sense on its surface. On the other hand, he didn’t trust Slater to follow his own rules. Sam knew him better, maybe, but it was his life they were messing with.

“Why not just turn off the phone and stick around?”

“He’d find a way to communicate.”

“He still might.”

“Possible. But this way we also get you out of there. The one thing we need now is time. A dozen new leads have surfaced in the last twenty-four hours, but we need time.”

There was the weword again.

“We should at least tell Jennifer, don’t you think?”

“Think of this as a test. We cut off all contact and then we gradually resume contact. Unless Slater’s following us now, he’ll be lost. His opponent will have disappeared. He may rant and rave, but he won’t play the game without you. We add some people to the loop and see if Slater suddenly knows more than he should. Follow?”

“What if he has the car bugged?”

“Then he did it today under the noses of the FBI. They swept it this morning, remember?”

Kevin nodded. The idea was growing on him. “Just like that we’re gone, huh?”

She grinned. “Just like that.”

“Like sneaking out at night.”

It took them half an hour to reach the quaint hotel—an old Victorian mansion that had been converted and expanded to accommodate forty rooms. They pulled into its parking lot at ten after six. A cool, salty breeze drifted off the Pacific, half a mile down green sloping hills. Sam grinned and pulled out her overnight bag.

“Do they have rooms available?” Kevin asked.

“We have reservations. A suite with two bedrooms.”

He looked up at the hotel and then back toward the sea. A Conoco station with a Taco Bell stood a hundred yards to the north. Outback Steakhouse, fifty yards south. Cars drifted by, a Lexus, a Mercedes. The madness in Long Beach seemed distant.

“Come on,” Sam said. “Let’s settle in and get something to eat.”

Half an hour later they sat across from each other in a cozy café on the hotel’s ground floor, overlooking a dimming horizon. They’d left their cell phones, turned off, in the room. She still wore her office pager, but Slater had no way to reach either of them. It seemed that Sam’s simple plan wasn’t such a bad idea.

“What would happen if I just disappeared?” Kevin asked, cutting into a thick New York strip.

She forked a small bite of cheese-smothered chicken into her mouth and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Just up and leave until we find him?”

“Why not?”

“Why not. Leave him high and dry.” She took a drink of iced tea and cut another piece. “You could move up to San Francisco.”

“He’s ruined my life down here anyway. I don’t see how I can continue in seminary.”

“I doubt you’re the first seminary student to have his sins exposed.”

“Murder isn’t exactly your typical confession.”

“Self-defense. And as far as we know, he lived.”

“The confession sounded pretty ominous. I think I’m finished.”

“And how’s murder so different from gossip? Wasn’t that your point to the dean? You’re no more capable of evil than the bishop, remember? Murder, gossip—what’s the difference? Evil is evil.”

“Evil is evil as long as you keep it in the classroom. Out here in the real world, gossip doesn’t even feel evil.”

“Which is why any good detective learns to trust the facts over feelings.” She went back to her food. “Either way, I don’t think you can run. He’ll track you down. That’s how his kind works. You raise the stakes and he’s likely to come back with higher stakes.”

Kevin looked out the window. Darkness had all but swallowed the horizon. Jennifer’s words came back to him. Take him out, she’d said.

“Like a hunted animal,” he said.

“Except that you’re not an animal. You have the same capacities he does.”

“Jennifer told me that if I had the opportunity I should blow him away.” Anger boiled through his chest. He’d come so far, worked so hard, pulled himself out of the deepest despair, only to be hijacked by some ghost from the past.

He slammed the table with his fist, rattling the dishes.

He met the stares from an older couple two tables down. “I’m sorry, Kevin,” Samantha said. “I know this is hard.”

“What’s to prevent mefrom being the hunter?” he asked. “He wants a game; I’ll give him a game! Why don’t I throw out a challenge and force himto respond to me? Would you do anything different?”

“Fight terror with terror.”

“Exactly!”

“No,” she said.

“What do you mean, no? Maybe the only way to corner him is to play the game his way.”

“You don’t fight evil with evil; it just leads to anarchy. We have rules and we have scruples, unlike Slater. What are you going to do, threaten to blow up the convention center unless he gives himself up? Somehow I don’t think he’d do anything but laugh. Besides, we have no way of contacting him.”

The maître d’ approached from Kevin’s right. “Excuse me, sir, is everything all right?”

Someone had complained. “Yes. I’m sorry, I’ll try to control myself.” Kevin flashed him an embarrassed smile. The man dipped his head and left.

Kevin took a deep breath and picked up his fork, but his appetite was suddenly gone. The fact was, when he thought about what Slater was doing to him, he could hardly think of anything but killing him. Destroy the destroyer.

“I know it sounds a bit pretentious right now, but Slater doesn’t scare me,” Sam said, staring off into the darkness outside, wearing a coy smile. “You’ll see, Kevin. His days are numbered.”

“And mine might be as well.”

“Not a chance. I won’t let that happen.”

He wasn’t brimming with her confidence, but he couldn’t resist her infectious smile. This was his Samantha. G.I. Jane.

“Jennifer said that, huh?” Sam asked. “Blow him away.”

“Actually, I think she said ‘take him out.’ Makes sense to me.”

“Maybe.” She stared at him across the candle flame. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Who, Jennifer?” He shrugged. “She seems like a good person.”

“I don’t mean in a ‘good person’ kind of way.”

“Come on, Sam. I hardly know her. I haven’t dated anyone for years.” He smiled sheepishly. “Good night, the last girl I kissed was you.”

“Is that so? When we were eleven?”

“How could you forget?”

“I haven’t. But you do like her. I can see it in your eyes when you say her name.”

Kevin felt his face flush. “She’s an FBI agent who’s trying to save my neck. What’s there not to like?” He looked to his right and caught the continuing stare of the older couple. They looked away. “She reminds me of you.”

“Really? How so?”

“Kind. No-nonsense. Pretty . . .”

“Like I said, you like her.”

“Please—”

“It’s okay, Kevin,” she said softly. “I want you to like her.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I approve.” She grinned and placed the last small bite of chicken in her mouth. Even the way she chewed her food was nothing less than spectacular, he thought. Her chin and cheeks were so smooth in motion.

“What about . . .” He trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.

“What about us? That’s very sweet, my knight, but I’m not sure we could ever be romantically involved. Don’t get me wrong, I love you dearly. I’m just not sure we want to risk what we have for romance.”