Chapter 21: Quist

I picked up Quist's folder before the wind could take the rest of it.

Then I ran.

I didn't need to ask which way he'd gone.

The Rask yard ended at a service dock on the lake, and a fast launch was always tied there for executives.

Joan ran beside me with her tablet under her arm.

"Navy's blocking the gate," she said. "He can't take a car out."

"He won't take a car."

"Then the boat."

"Yes."

We came around the end of the machine shed.

The service dock lay ahead of us, lit by one yellow lamp.

The launch was there, with its engine already turning over.

Quist stood on the dock beside it, wearing his gray suit and no coat.

He was untying the stern line with shaking hands.

"Lowell," I said.

He froze.

He looked back, and for a moment his face was perfectly empty.

Then he smiled.

"Emmett. What a night."

"Step away from the boat."

"I'm going to take a short trip. I need air."

"You need a lawyer."

"I have several."

"Then they can meet you on the dock."

He glanced at the water, and then up the pier, and back at me.

From the shadows by the shed, a man stepped into the lamplight.

He was heavy through the shoulders, in a borrowed Navy windbreaker.

The technician.

Two Navy escorts stood behind him with their hands on their belts.

"That's him," the technician said.

His voice was hoarse, and it did not shake.

"That's the man who told me it was a stress test."

"He told me to burn the lot slip."

"He gave me four thousand dollars in an envelope for it."

"I've never seen this man," Quist said.

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