As the midnight approached, Sam paced his living room and Josh remained silent in an armchair in the back, contemplating the carpet belong his feet. The closer come the designated hour, the more Josh was sure that the telephone wouldn't ring. For that reason, he jumped when a loud bell broke the silence.

- Sam Seaborn - he said holding the telephone far from his ear so Josh could listen too.

- I understand you have received my message - Sam believed to hear a certain accent, in the voice, something vaguely family.

- I received your message but, to me, you're a crazy man that come up with idea for a bad joke that doesn't have any grace - Sam responded. The insult didn't generate any answer in whoever called.

- I understand, although I am not a crazy. I am a desperate man who lives in a nightmare and I am looking for helps.

Josh, seemed to detect tension, almost pain in that voice. Sam answered.

-If that is true, I am willing to help you. However I don't have any way of judging either your integrity, or your suitability to recognize a conspiracy because I don't know who you are.

-How do you suggests we solve this dilemma?

-I suggest that we meet in some part, in an isolated place that you choose, and tell me who you are, what you knows, what you suspect, and how you are involved in this.

- When?

- Tonight.

Whoever called thought for a moment.

- Do you -know where Georgetown is?

- No, but I can find it.

- Be careful, - the man continued - it's a winding and narrow road that goes up.

- Itīs ok - Sam answered.

The stranger gave very specific instructions to Sam to arrive to a bridge where, he said, there was a repair that would allow them to speak without being bothered.

- Can you be there in one hour? - Added the one who called.

- There's not problem. Will be there for sure?

- Mr.. Seaborn, this is not a bad joke that has no grace. I will be there.

The communication ended abruptly.



Sam walked for from one side to another next to his jeep. It was one fifteen and he didn't see anybody who wanted to meet with him that hour. The author of anonymous letter was already delayed fifteen minutes.

- Sam, are we in the correct place?

- According to the instructions, this is it.

Sam answered in a low voice while he reclined on Jeeps hood.

- Damn! I was willing to believe that this man was sincere' - Sam cursed,

Then he shook his head

- There was something in his voice... I didn't get to identify it.

- Do you think you know him?

- I believe that I should know him, it's his accent. I cannot identify it but it's very familiar.

A noisy police car police sped through the highway, near the corner where they were. Sam instinctively moved away from the road.

- Christ, I am acting like a criminal - he said with a brief smile

- What do you think, Sam? Have we been mocked?

Sam paused and looked at the moon, surrounded by a soft halo of light. He shivered and then he said.

- Have you heard a saying that a halo around the moon means someone will die? It is an old sailor belief.

- The fact that you know that explains your navigational skills.. Hmm! I don't know. What does that have to do with our problem?

- Nothing. - Admitted Sam, but he had an ill hunch - We should follow that policeman.

Ten minutes later, they witnessed the end of Dodge's fire. There were detainees next to the road, looking casual like travelers that had gone to observe the action.

At least Sam thought, his attitude was not as brutal as that of those two passengers of dented Blue Ford E -150 that stopped before Sam's Jeep and crossed the road, running to film the scene.

Sam and Josh stayed inside the jeep far from the action. Then watched as paramedics went up the hill with a stretcher that contained a black bag, closed with zipper.

-Do you think that was he? - Asked Josh.

- If the fear that I heard in his voice had any foundation, I would say that very probably was he or whatever is left of him - replied Sam - Jesus, what did we get ourselves into?

- This doesn't prove anything, Sam. He could be a Saturday night drunkard that couldn't drive on a winding road. Perhaps our man is delayed.

- Tell me the truth, Josh, if you had to guess, would you say the chances that we meet with our informant on the bridge are better that those of saying goodbye to him here?

Silence responded to that question.



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