Page 59 of Red Boar's Baby

“I’m not sure that metaphor makes sense,” Farley said, regarding him from narrowed eyes.

Costa put the gun carefully out of Farley’s reach and sat down beside him. “You’re definitely smarter than the average thug.”

“I’m not a thug, I’m a pilot,” Farley said shortly. “Thornburg pays me well for doing discreet work. That’s all.”

“Oh really? Discreet work like tossing people out of planes?”

Farley opened his mouth to respond, then shut it as Diana landed in a flurry of feathers. She shifted human and reached for Costa’s shirt, while Costa turned a vicious glare on Farley.

“Look and die,” Diana said before Costa could say anything, picking up her jeans.

“I’m not looking,” Farley said hastily, gazing at the sky.

“Our friend here was just telling me what he does for Thornburg,” Costa said. “But first, what’d you find?”

Diana shook her head, buttoning up the shirt over her breasts. “There’s nothing man-made at all, except some very old, falling down structures on the other side of the sand pit that I guess used to be part of a mine, and an old dirt road. I guess we can walk out on it if we don’t get a better option, since it must go somewhere, but we must be days from anywhere on foot. I did find the spring that the animals use, so we can head over there when we need to. It might be a bit of a walk.”

Shadows were climbing the sides of the valley around them, and the sky was flushing pink. Costa guessed they were about an hour out from darkness, if not less. Dusk didn’t last long in the clear desert conditions.

“I was thinking we’d shift tonight anyway,” he told her. “We’ll get through the night okay, and we can find things to eat. I told Farley we’d keep him supplied with scavenging rations if he cooperates.”

“What is he? Let me guess, a skunk,” Diana said, scowling at him. She sat down crosslegged, graceful as always, tucking her bare, sandy feet under her legs.

“Wolverine,” Farley said reluctantly.

“Now that we’re all on the same page, let’s get back to your tale of woe,” Costa said. “And then we can get settled for the night. Or head out to find dinner, in the case of those of us who are crepuscular foragers.”

“That sounds absolutely disgusting,” Farley said.

“Crepuscular means active at dawn and dusk,” Diana supplied. Costa gave her an impressed look. She leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Okay, so what do youdofor Thornburg, anyway?”

“I’m a pilot,” Farley said.

“Who occasionally pushes people out of planes,” Diana said.

“Could you stop mentioning that?”

“As the guests of honor at the freefall party, do you blame us?” Costa snapped. “Also, this is not exactly what I would call cooperating.”

“I’m trying!” Farley retorted. “Look, okay, so there were a few of us who did ‘special’ jobs for Thornburg.” The air quotes were audible. “Mostly me and Morty—the pilot you were investigating, the one who died in the Chiricahua crash.”

“How do you mean, special? All expense paid trips to the desert floor without a parachute?”

“No!” Farley said sharply. “It was just off-books transport of people and cargo. Mostly people. But the whole point was to get to the other end in one piece.”

“For the shifter fighting rings?” Diana asked.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know about that. Yeah, I transported fighters, and also cargo and supplies. Thornburg basically is, or maybe I should say was, running two separate businesses. There’s the legitimate charter business, handling flightseeing, cargo runs and whatnot. Then there’s the off-books shipping business that was mostly me and Morty.”

“I got the impression when we were talking to the ground crew that the other pilots know some people working for Thornburg get choice jobs and others don’t,” Costa said.

“Yeah, well, he pays us good because we’re risking our licenses by doing an end run around the rules.”

“And what about our late, great friend Jim?” Costa wanted to know. “How does he fit into all of this? He’s not a pilot.”

“Thornburg has a few other guys who would go along on some jobs. Private security. He’s one of those.”

“Ah,” Costa said. “Security. Are we talking to keep people off the plane—or to keep them on?”

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