McGuire looked across the seat, his dark eyes flat. The truck turned a couple of corners, the men riding in silence until they were rolling on Geary. "I expect I'll be using the shotgun anyway." "Yeah, and in there"-McGuire pointed to the glove box-"I got my Sig." "I got fifty shells and my over and under wrapped in the tarp back there." McGuire motioned over his shoulder, indicating the truck bed. Turning back to his brother-in-law, he asked, "What are you carrying?" He drew a deep breath and took a last look back at his house as the truck moved into gear. I did have the extra." Saying it aloud seemed to cost him some energy. Hardy slid in and dumped the package onto the seat between them. He'd married McGuire's sister, was godfather to one of McGuire's daughters, as Moses was to his. ![]() When Hardy's first pass at adult life fell apart, he'd worked for years at the bar Moses owned, the Little Shamrock, and eventually, when Hardy was ready to risk life and commitment again, he became a quarter partner in the bar. But Hardy had saved McGuire's life and that bond had held, would always hold. Over there, Hardy had pulled McGuire to cover and safety in the midst of an intense firefight-both of the men had been hit, both awarded the Purple Heart. The two men had known each other for over thirty years, since they'd been in Vietnam. Hardy, at fifty-two, was two years younger than McGuire. The coat, McGuire thought, was a good idea, not so much for the cold as to disguise the fact that he was wearing Kevlar, and packing. He carried a rope-wrapped package under one arm, wore jeans and hiking boots and a heavy coat into the pockets of which he'd stuffed his hands. Normally he was good for a smile or some wiseass greeting, but today his face was set, his eyes cast down. His brother-in-law, Dismas Hardy, walked briskly, businesslike, down his porch steps and the path that bisected his small lawn. He blew into the cup of his hands again, lay on the horn another time. The heater in the truck didn't work worth a damn and the driver-side window was stuck halfway down, but he knew it wasn't the weather. He waited, blowing on his hands, which he couldn't get to stay warm. "And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept by confused alarums of struggle and flight Where ignorant armies clash by night." - Matthew Arnold "Dover Beach"Īt a little before two o'clock on a chill and overcast Wednesday afternoon, Moses McGuire pulled his old Ford pickup to a grating stop in front of his sister Frannie's house and honked the horn twice. Series: Dismas Hardy The First Law John Lescroart
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