The question of danger was a real one. Lucky the Fox had always had his antennae out for those who might be watching him, whether sent by his enemies or his boss.
But this man simply did not look the part of a dangerous individual at all. No cop, or agent of The Right Man, would have stared so obviously at me. Another assassin would have never made himself known. If anything the incident served to make me aware of how very safe I felt, though I still had some lingering anxiety about having told my real name to The Right Man.
I forgot about it, found a quiet place on a patio outside, where the sun was pleasantly warm and the breeze cool, and I called Liona.
The sound of her voice almost brought tears to my eyes. And only as we chatted did I realize it had been five days since she and Toby had flown home.
“Believe me,” I said, “I wanted to call you before now. I’ve been thinking about you both since you left. I want to see you again and soon.”
She wanted that too, she said. All I had to do was name the time and place. She explained she’d been to her lawyer with all the legal documents I’d given her. Her father was pleased that I’d taken responsibility for my son in this way.
“But Toby, there’s something that’s been bothering me,” she explained. “Do your cousins down here know you’re alive?”
“No, they don’t,” I admitted. “And if I come back there, well, I feel I have to see them.”
“There’s something I didn’t tell you before, but I think you should know. About three years ago, when you were declared …”
“Legally dead?” I offered.
“Yes, well, your cousin Matt took all your old things out of storage, and he came by and gave us some of your old books. Toby, he knew, at least I had told him that Toby was your son.”
“That’s good, Liona, I’m glad. I don’t mind at all about Matt knowing. I can’t blame you for telling him.”
“Well, there’s more to it than that. You know my father, you know he’s a doctor first and foremost.”
“Yes?”
“He asked Matt for permission to run some DNA tests on the evidence taken from your mom’s apartment. Dad said he wanted it for medical reasons, to know if there were any medical problems in the family that Toby might …”
“I understand.” I went cold all over. I struggled to keep my voice steady. “That’s fine. That’s completely reasonable,” I lied. “Matt said yes, and your father tested my family’s DNA and Little Toby’s DNA.” Which means there is a record of DNA close to that of Lucky the Fox in a file. My heart was skipping a beat or two. “You’re not trying to tell me there was some congenital problem—.”
“No. I just wanted you to know. We thought you were dead, Toby.”
“Liona, don’t worry. It’s all fine. And I’m glad you did it. Your father knows for sure that Little Toby is mine.”
“Well, that was part of it, too,” she confessed. “He has proof of affinity, as they call it, and that will have to do.”
“Listen, my love,” I said. “I have some work to do. I have to talk to my employer. And when I find out what my schedule is, I’ll call you right away. Now I’m on a prepaid cell here and you have this number. Call me whenever you want.”
“Oh, I won’t bother you, Toby,” she insisted.
“If I don’t pick up, it means I can’t,” I said.
“Toby?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to know something, but I don’t want it to frighten you.”
“Of course. What?”
“I love you,” she said.
I let out a long sigh. “Am I ever glad to hear that,” I whispered. “Because my heart is in your hands.”
I clicked off.
I was acutely happy and acutely distressed. She loved me. And I loved her, and then all the other dark truths intruded, faster than I could name them or recognize them. No one tracking Lucky the Fox had ever obtained a sample of DNA, but now Lucky the Fox and Toby O’Dare were known to be one and the same to The Right Man, and there was DNA of Toby O’Dare’s family in a file in New Orleans. And I had foolishly told The Right Man that I had come from New Orleans.
“There are things you have to do,” Shmarya had said in so many words, and he had been right. I couldn’t do anything about this DNA question, and indeed, it might not matter, considering how my various hits had been accomplished, but there were other things I could do and ought to do promptly.
I checked out of the inn and drove to Los Angeles.
My apartment was as I’d left it, with the doors wide open to the patio, and the jacaranda blossoms still littered the quiet street below.
I dressed in some old clothes, and drove to the garage where I’d kept my trucks and my disguises and my other materials for some two or three years. For two hours, carefully gloved and gowned, I destroyed things.
Now, I had never brewed my poisonous concoctions from so-called “controlled substances.” Just about every lethal cocktail I’d ever devised had been from over-the-counter drugs or flowers and herbs available everywhere. I’d used micro-syringes any diabetic can buy without difficulty. Nevertheless the assemblage of items in the garage constituted a kind of evidence and I felt much better when every last bottle had been emptied and every last package burned. Ashes went down the drains. And a great deal of water went after them.
I wiped down the trucks very carefully, and then drove them to different areas of downtown Los Angeles where I left them with the keys in the ignition. The licenses and registration were a dead end, so I had no fears there. I walked for about six blocks after leaving the last truck, speculating that all of them might have already been stolen, and I took a cab back to the vicinity of the garage.
The place was now empty. I left the doors opened and unlocked.
Within a matter of hours homeless people would come into this place, seeking shelter or whatever valuables they might find. Their personal belongings, their fingerprints and their DNA would soon be everywhere, and that was a fitting end, as it had been in the past, for any such garage that Lucky the Fox had used.
I drove home feeling a little more safe, and feeling that Liona and Toby were a little more safe. I couldn’t be sure of anything, really. But I was doing what I could to protect Lucky the Fox from harming them.
The anxiety I felt was considerable and inevitable. I realized that no matter what happened with me and Malchiah and Shmarya, I was becoming Toby O’Dare in the world, and Toby O’Dare had never really existed before as he did now. I felt naked and vulnerable, and I didn’t like it. In fact, I was surprised how much I didn’t like it.