One bullet would take care of the phone forever, but it might attract unwelcome attention, and at the very least it would reduce his arsenal by a fourth. He should have taken Hairy Ears up on his offer of a box of shells, but at the time all hed had to be able to do was kill one person. It never occurred to him that hed wind up running for his life.
He unloaded the gun, weighed the four bullets in his hand, set them down gently on the bed. A revolver was a pretty simple device, and you couldnt make it fire by hitting something with the butt, but enough strange things had already happened today and he didnt want to risk another. He took the unloaded revolver and the treacherous cell phone into the bathroom, wrapped the phone in a towel, placed it on the floor, and smashed it to bits with the gun butt.
He opened the towel and looked at the collections of bits and pieces of what had moments ago been a sophisticated and very useful machine. It was no longer a threat to him, could not lead anyone to him, wherever he might be, or to Dots house in White Plains.
Nor was it the lifeline it had been, the link to the only person on earth who could help him, or was likely to want to. Well, she couldnt help him now. Nobody could help him.
He was on his own.
6
He slid the bills under the door and watched them disappear. There was a peephole in the door, and he saw the delivery guy straighten up, hesitate for a long moment, and then walk away. Keller waited a couple of minutes, then opened the door and retrieved his meal.
He wasnt hungry, but he made himself eat just as hed made himself shower and shave, and for a similar reason, because who knew when hed get the chance again? His face was appearing on every TV screen in America, and when the paper came out it would be there, too. It wasnt a very good likeness, and hed been blessed with a fairly generic face, with no outstanding features to grab onto, but when a few hundred million people had been exposed to that picture, it stood to reason that one of them would recognize him.
So it wouldnt be a good idea to go to Dennys, say, and treat himself to another of those patty melts.
No, hed have to stick to food he could have delivered, and that would only work so long as he had a place for them to deliver it to. The only person whod seen his face at the Days Inn was the clerk on duty when hed registered, and that had been quick and easy and he doubted hed made much of an impression. Desk clerks saw hundreds of people every day, and barely looked at them. He himself had only seen one desk clerk this trip, and had entirely forgotten what she looked like, so why shouldnt she have forgotten him as completely?
On the other hand, suppose he were to see her picture, over and over and over. How long would it take before she started
looking curiously familiar to him? How long before he remembered who she was?
He ate some of the pizza, drank half of the Coke. The four bullets were still on the bed where hed put them, and he scooped them up and loaded them back into the gun, leaving an empty chamber under the firing pin. He tried the gun in a pocket, then slipped it under the waistband of his trousers, then put it in the suitcase. And if he needed it in a hurry? What was he going to do, open the suitcase for a quick draw? He got it out of the suitcase and returned it to its place under his waistband.
He didnt want to watch television, but what else could he do? How else would he know when it was time to cut and run?
They kept showing his picture, and he began studying it, no longer interested in what his facial expression suggested or how good a likeness it was, but instead trying to figure out when and where theyd taken it. Not this past week, not here in Des Moines, because he was wearing a khaki poplin windbreaker in the photo, and he hadnt even brought it along this trip, choosing a navy blue blazer instead. He recognized that windbreaker, hed bought it from a Lands End catalog two years ago and, while there was nothing wrong with it, he hadnt worn it much.
Albuquerque, he thought. Hed worn it to Albuquerque.
And had he been wearing that burnt-orange polo shirt? Thats what he seemed to be wearing in the photo, although it was a little hard to be sure of the color. Had he worn it when he did that other job for Al, when hed shuttled a man named Warren Heggman out of this world and into the next?
Maybe, maybe not. That wasnt the sort of thing he could remember. But he was pretty sure hed worn the windbreaker to Albuquerque, and hed have still had it on when he rang Heggmans bell and punched Heggmans ticket, because he hadnt had time to unpack and change. Hed checked into three different rooms under three different names, but never left his bag in any of them, never even opened it until he was back in New York.
So they were setting him up even then. Taking his picture. Theyd probably have done more if hed given them more time, but he was in and out in nothing flat, so all they had was that one picture of him.