The Oracle Year(103)

He saw evidence of Hamza and Miko’s careful planning everywhere—the CB radio, the metal crate pushed against one wall that Will knew contained over a hundred burner cell phones ready for use, the encrypted laptops and satphone, the safe holding cash, gold and gems, instrument cases, rustic but tasteful furniture, the stocked kitchen. Everything the Oracle would need to survive in a world that knew his name.

And sitting on the couch, holding a steaming mug in one delicate hand, nails painted a bright, pretty shade of blue, was the reason he would never use any of it—the Coach.

“Hello, Will,” she said. “So nice to see you again.”

“Fuck you,” Will said.

“It sounds interesting, but I think my men are in a hurry to finish our work before the local law enforcement comes looking to figure out what’s going on.”

“How did you know we were coming here?”

“Oh, please. I found you once, what makes you think I’d ever let you go again? I’ve been tracking you two kids ever since you left New York. Swapping out the Town Car for that rental made it a snap, really. They all have transponders, so the companies can find them if they’re stolen or something. Did you not know that?”

Will glanced at Leigh. She looked terrified, of course, but also angry. He felt incredibly stupid. Will Dando was emphatically, now and forever, not Batman.

“What do you want from me?” he said.

“Nothing,” the Coach said. “Nothing at all.”

A sound, behind them, the unmistakable ka-chik of a pistol’s slide being racked.

“Oh, Jesus,” Leigh said.

He turned to see one of the Coach’s men—the same man who had ordered them out of the car—was now pointing a dark, gray hammer of a gun at Will’s head.

“No,” Will said, his thoughts fuzzed, adrenaline streaking through his system. He knew there was a pistol in a small plastic case in a closet upstairs, and a few rifles in a cabinet in the kitchen, but they might as well have been back in New York for all the good they could do.

“You don’t want to do this,” he said, trying hard to project a note of authority into his voice. “I have to do something. If I don’t, it’s going to be bad, really bad.”

“What do you need to do?” the Coach said, a note of curiosity in her voice.

“Let me go and I’ll tell you. I can tell you all kinds of things. I’m the Oracle.”

The Coach shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Dando, but my employer gave explicit instructions. You see, you appear to be more dangerous alive than dead. You’ve been a busy boy up here. That business with China, and the bit about stem-cell research?”

The Coach made a small, chiding noise, clicking her tongue against her teeth.

“I’ve been getting calls for days to end your rampage across the geopolitical landscape. The only reason I said no was because you had the president protecting you. But then you sold him out.”

She made a small gesture, and her mercenary placed the pistol at Will’s temple. The circle of metal felt red-hot against his skin, a tiny stove burner making it impossible to think about anything else.

“Forgive me, Will, but that was stupid. President Green was absolutely furious. He personally gave the kill order for you. No plausible deniability this time, I guess.”

She scratched the side of her nose with her free hand—a gesture too casual to seem remotely real, considering the circumstances.

“I’m almost disappointed,” the Coach continued. “I guess I expected something more . . . interesting from you. Considering, you know, all this buildup.”

She shrugged.

“Should have known better. Expectations. They’ll get you every time.”

“I’ve got money,” Will said, desperate. “I can get you anything you want. Goddammit, what do you think all of this has been about? Can’t you understand that there’s a point to everything that’s happened, and if I die it will all fall apart?”

The Coach held a finger to her lips.

“Shh,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

And then, for the first time since the dream, Will could breathe. There was nothing left for him to do.

No decisions to make.

No globe-spanning drama with the Oracle in its starring role.

No future.

Just Will Dando, at the end of his life.

He closed his eyes, entirely focused on that little circle of metal against the side of his head.

“In the car,” he heard Leigh say. “There’s a notebook. Go get it. Read it. You’ll understand. If you kill him, you kill yourself. You kill everyone.”

A long silence.

“Open your eyes, Will,” the Coach said.

Will did. She had stood and was considering him carefully.

“Okay. I’m interested. Go get it, Grunfeld,” she said, and the circle of metal disappeared from the side of Will’s head.

A moment or two later, and the leader of the Coach’s team—Grunfeld, apparently—returned with the notebook. He handed it to her without a word, and she paged through it, one eyebrow raised, making an occasional noise of interest.

“Huh,” she said, snapping the notebook closed. “When I take a job, I tend to get a bit . . . focused. I can be extremely goal oriented. Big picture bores me. I’d even go so far as to say it’s my tragic flaw.”