The Light and Dark

Chapter One

I sat on the hood of my blue Toyota Camry, gnawing at my peanut butter and pickle sandwich. I fanned myself with the book that I had been reading when I first arrived, I glanced at the cover, "The Complete Guide for Working for Yourself". So far it had been more help as a fan. It was a sweltering day, the heat rose off the roof of my car in visible waves, I had to keep peeling my tank top from my back and I had already downed two bottles water. I had been waiting for over an hour for this client to show up, I was about to give up, the desert heat was too much to be sitting around in the blazing sun.

I glanced up as the engine sound hit my ears, the Cessna 172 dipped overhead, and set down on the packed earth of the dirt runway. The Blue Dimond Airstrip was barely that, it was a small stretch of backed earth surrounded by a handful of crumbling wooden hangers. This plane was probably the first to set down here in years.

"About damn time," I mumbled around a mouthful of bread. I slid from the car's hood and double checked the back seat of the car, I pulled a fresh water bottle from the ice chest in the trunk and replaced the heated one in the cup holder. I fluffed up the back of ranch Doritos and turned the keys in the ignition, hopefully to get the interior cooled off before the client got to the car.

The Cessna pulled to a stop on the other side of the rust covered chain link fence and the passenger door opened. A man in his late forties and a silk black suit stepped from the plane. He turned back to have a word with the pilot before turning to make his way toward me. He ran a pale hand through his graying black hair and tugged at the hem of his opposite sleeve. He held a steel briefcase tightly in his other hand. He was a dark contrast against the white exterior of the plane he had climbed from, and the pale sands of the tumbleweed covered hills behind him. The man was unnaturally pale, or maybe I was just used to the desert tanned people or the Mojave. He wore large dark sunglasses that he did not take off as he stepped up to me, so instead of looking the man in the eyes I was looking at my own reflection.

He grimaced as he took me and my aging car in. "You are Lyra?" He asked, his voice flat and bored, glancing down at his Apple watch.

"I am," I said, I did not like this man already, "You are Tydon?" I clarified.

"Yes miss, as I am sure my fare stated, you are to take me from here to the Harrah's casino and back here once my business is concluded there," He stated, he glared down the bridge of his long nose at me, "My business within the casino will only take ten minutes," He looked down at his watched, "If you are able to get me back here by four thirty I will throw in a bonus to your fare," He said, I grinned.

"Not a problem," I said, "I grew up on the streets of Vegas I know the fastest routes to the casinos on the Strip," He just glared at me. "Shall we?" I said gesturing to the back seat for him.

I got in the driver's seat and turned the car down the dirt road back to the one sixty, it would be thirty minutes to the Harrah, ten minutes there and thirty back, I glanced at the clock it was only three now, plenty of time. I glanced back at my passenger, "What brings you to Las Vegas, Mr. Tydon?" I ventured, my eyes flitted to the brief case, was that a handcuff?

"Business," Was all the man said, he sat ridged and unmoving in the back seat as I turned the Camry onto the freeway.

"Why fly in here and not straight into McCarren?" I asked.

"My business required it." He said flatly, "I would prefer that we not speak further during our time together,"

"Yes Sir," I said, I turned my eyes to the road ahead, but my eyes kept finding their way to the rear-view mirror and the strange pale man in my back seat.