“Paimon will not risk returning to its prison. It will never surrender the Seal.”
I took a deep breath. “Why don’t we blow it up?”
He gave me a quizzical look.
“How much of my blood did you put in those bullets? It couldn’t be more than a drop or two. What if we . . . used more?”
“Alfred,” Op Nine said. “What you’re suggesting—”
“I think that’s a terrific idea,” Mike said. “Let’s blow Al up.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “If I can get close enough to Paimon . . . it might give you a few seconds.”
“Hey, Saint Alfred,” Mike said. “Where was the death wish at the ravine? You had the chance.”
I stared at Mike for a long time. The ravine. His hand on my wrist. The black sword in my other hand.
I had it then. The answer popped into my head the same way all my memories had in the morgue.
I turned to Mr. Needlemier. “Where in Florida is the Devil’s Millhopper?”
“Gainesville.”
I turned to Op Nine. “I’ve got it now. I think I know what has to be done.”
51
Mike trailed behind us as we trotted to the Lexus.
“Tell me the truth,” he called after us. “You never had my mom, did you?”
Op Nine turned. “That is something you will not know until this is over—however it ends. You have been neutralized as a factor in this affair, Michael.”
“I never liked you,” Mike said. “And you can bet your bottom dollar the director’s going to hear about this.”
“Should we succeed, he will no longer be director and you will no longer be an operative. Both of you have violated our most solemn oath never to interfere with the affairs of any nation.” His dark eyes glittered. “And by doing so, you have endangered the very thing you intended to preserve.”
He got into the car. I slid in beside him and Mr. Needlemier closed my door. Soon we were heading back down the mountain. I looked through the window behind me and watched as the fog engulfed Mike Arnold.
“Now tell me what you intend to do, Alfred,” Op Nine said. “What is it that must be done?”
I explained it to him. Neither he nor Mr. Needlemier said a word.
We were on Alcoa Highway, about two miles from the airport, crawling along in the dense fog, when I finished and Op Nine said, “It is madness.”
“Well,” I said, “in case nobody’s noticed, I’m already leaning in that direction.”
“But it has no hope of success.”
“You know that isn’t true,” I said. “Paimon can’t risk letting me die.”
“Alfred, your life means nothing to Paimon.”
“No, but the Vessel means everything. And I’m the key to it. Paimon won’t risk losing the key.”
He shook his head. I cleared my throat. “And anyway, if it doesn’t work, you’ll still have the Vessel and you can try something else.”
He turned away then and looked out the window, though there was nothing to look at but his reflection in the glass. He reached over and put his right hand on my forearm.