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〃You were correct。〃 Nicholas took a deep breath。 〃I want you to teach me； sensei。 I am not frightened of the Kuji…kiri。〃
〃No；〃 Akutagawa…san said almost sadly； 〃but in time you will learn to be。〃 He reached out and took Nicholas〃 hand。 〃Now e。〃 His voice altered。 〃Let darkness and death be your middle names forevermore。〃
They went off the hillside。 Soon the mist had swallowed them pletely。
The monsters had needed designations。 They were never with Alix Logan at the same time but rather spelled each other in twelve…hour shifts。 The beefy one was on duty during the days and Bristol thought of him as Red。 The other one； the thin； wiry； nocturnal monster with the long neck and beak of a nose； he dubbed Blue。
The first question he had asked himself when he had e upon them was： had they been in the car？
It had been many months since that dark night filled with rain and an evil wind that bent the high； thin palms of Key West almost to the ground。 He had been doing forty…five on the highway when they came up on him very fast with their lights out。
He felt the fierce jolt forward； said； 〃What the hell！〃 to no one in particular and felt grateful for his seatbelt。 They were close； and knowing that instinctively his eyes would move to his rear…view mirror after the ram； they turned on their blights。
In that moment of utter dazzle； they moved in for the kill。 He knew in that flash just how clever they were； knew also from his years of experience that there would not be time to regain control of the situation： he was not James Bond and this was no movie。 So he did the only thing he could。 He concentrated on his own survival。
In the brief instant before they struck again； he unlocked the driver's side door and opened it a crack。 He unsnapped his seatbelt。 He was no longer concerned with what they would do or how they would do it； he only knew that if he did not center all his concern on himself now； they would surely kill him。
When the second ram came； it was at just the right angle。 They had hesitated long enough so that both cars were racing around a bend to the right。 Beyond the low fence on the left； the land shot down in a sheer drop of perhaps seventy…five feet。 The ground was not particularly hard。 In fact； the recent rains had made a rather springy mat of it but there was very little purchase。 It was a dangerous stretch； particularly in this storm； and every ten feet or so along the side of the road large signs dotted with ruby red reflector buttons flew by。
It was as if an enormous creature had taken a bite out of the car。 The back end slewed right around and the wheel flew out of his hands。 He let it go； working on keeping his equilibrium。 Centrifugal force and the colliding momentums of the vehicles were working against him； and the darkness of the night only added to the sense of intense disorientation。
His hand flew to the partially open door and he had to will himself to stay put through the horrendous sounds of grinding and squealing metal； the frightening； out…of…control movement； and the sure knowledge that he was heading over the edge and down。
If he left the car before it went over； there'd be no point。 The other car's headlights would pick him up and they'd run him over while he was helpless。
But now the front end of the car had slammed into the low railing； the shriek of more metal tearing； flinging itself upward； bursting apart； and he lurched forward； having to brace the heels of his hands against the padded dash； remembering to flex his elbows slightly to help cushion the force so that he wouldn't break his arms in half。
Then the nose of the car was thrusting upward； the seat springs rocking crazily。 Rain sleeted in the partially open window drenching him； blinding him； and for that instant he felt a rising panic； afraid that they were going to succeed after all。
The car bucked forward as if kicked from behind； the front end lowering； the wheels spinning for purchase and finding none。 He had long ago taken his foot off both the gas and the brake pedals。 He left the car in gear； though it might have been better to throw it into neutral。 He did not want to leave any traces of how he was going about saving himself； to feed to the investigators who would surely e and do their thorough job if the sea didn't claim his coffin。
He wanted to be dead。
Now he began to tumble； leaving behind the short verge beyond the slick road。 He heard the tearing of clods of earth above the noise of the engine and the car's back wheels skidded sickeningly； slewing him again so that his shoulder slammed against the door post and he sucked in his breath。 Another inch or so forward and he would have tumbled out the unlocked door on his head。 All the way down； a broken neck and sightless eyes staring impotently up at the white； peering faces of his murderers。
None of that for him。 He held on； and now there was only an eerie kind of silence； rushing in the aftermath of all the frenzy and sound。 Wind whistled through the partially opened window and then the car took its first unsteady bump on the side of the sheer cliff。 One side hit heavier than the other； and that started the oscillation。 Soon； he knew； it would get so great…on the fourth or fifth landing perhaps…that the vehicle would flip over and then he would have no chance at all。
He could see nothing that would help him。 He was in the tunnel of the night； a steel coffin； and he knew he must rely totally on sensation； the feeling in his stomach； his hands； his legs； his heart。
It was now or never。
He drew his legs up so that he was kneeling on the seat； so that there was no possibility that his feet would get caught in the well。 Quickly now he moved onto his back； feet first toward the swinging door。
Out he went。 Watched dizzily； detachedly； the shock and pain turning him into an unconcerned spectator； as the tumbling car hit the churning water hood first and sank into the deep without a trace。
Bristol did not think much about that night now except to speculate on who it was who'd tried to kill him。 At first he was certain that it had been Frank； Raphael Tomkin's man。 But that was before he had e upon the monsters。 Now he was not so sure。
He had e down to Key West to find Alix Logan。 Now that he had found that she was already covered； he wondered； Who were they； these monsters who never let her out of then… sight？ Were they working for Tomkin？ Were they all part of the cover…up of Tomkin's murder of Angela Didion？ There was no way Bristol could know that until he spoke to Alix Logan。 Back in New York； Matty the Mouth had given him her name。 Bristol had known there had been a witness to the murder and if he was going to nail Tomkin； he would have to find her。 The contact had given him the name and the place for an unconscionably large amount of money。 But it had been worth it。 Now Bristol knew he was very close； and he had told Matty the Mouth to get out of town for a while。 He owed the man that much。
Down in Key West； after his supposed death； after he had recovered from the fractured arm； he had set himself up on watch。 He had plenty of idle time when he had nothing to do but wait。 Movement or stillness。 Dark and light