I've been mulling the problem over for some time but could only come up with some quick and dirty solutions. For example:
Why couldn't the accountant could just hire an assassin? Well, ya - but how does the assassin get a shot at a man that nobody ever sees? No one knows where the Tracker lives, where he goes, what he will do next. How do you kill a man like that?
Perhaps the accountant could leave an electronic trail of breadcrumbs for the Tracker to follow - straight into a trap? Sure...but this seems too obvious, kinda been there, done that. Besides, I don't think the Tracker would fall for this kind of bush league effort.
Or, what if the accountant threatened Helen, the Tracker's girl Friday? The accountant used to pay the Tracker's bills - it would be possible for him to track down Helen and use her as a hostage to lure in the Tracker. My initial reaction? Yawn....how many times has that device been used? Too many to count.
So, with that problem percolating in the back of my mind, I decided to take Sophie for a walk down to the river. In previous posts I've mentioned that getting to the river at the back of our property involves a one kilometer slog through the woods. When I finally reached the water, I was read for a break so I took up a spot on a rocky outcropping and watched the current flow. The soft burbling of the water as it rippled through a narrow section helped to clear my thoughts.
I was in a peaceful zen state of mind when I saw a beaver swimming up the river, straight toward me. Sophie was oblivious until the beaver gave a mighty smack with its tail onto the surface of the water then dove down and out of sight.
Sophie's back went up and she took her usual defensive position - tucked in behind my knees, poised to make an ignominious escape the moment the beaver made one wrong move. Have I mentioned that Sophie is all about survival of the fittest.
Luckily for my plot problem, the beaver surfaced a few seconds later, and I was surprised to see that it had moved closer to me. I stood very still, careful not to stare directly at it, an unnecessary precaution as it turned out. It seems the beaver was more curious about the great big land ape and her cowardly dog than we were about it.
For almost 20 minutes it circled my position, swimming ever closer in a zig-zag pattern. The temperature was close to zero and after awhile, I needed to move in order to keep warm. Surprisingly, my shuffling movements did not deter the little beaver, in fact it moved in closer. Even the proximity of the dog didn't seem to frighten the beaver.
This section of the river rarely sees human inhabitants. Maybe the odd canoeist might brave the series of rapids and the rather large waterfall that impede travel but most sane people avoid this area. It was likely that this beaver, which appeared to be fairly young, had never seen a land ape in a red jacket before. The beaver was curious. So curious, it overcame its inherent threat avoidance mechanism in order to take a good, long look. If I had been a different sort of land ape, the beaver would most certainly be dead right now.
"Silly little beaver," I said, "curiosity killed the cat."
And then I had it! That Ah Ha moment. To lure a wary predator - you must disarm its natural defense mechanisms and cause it to turn its back on years of experience. How? By presenting the predator with a great big, weird, puzzle.
A great, big, weird puzzle too surprising, too tantalizing, too juicy to ignore.
What is that puzzle? You'll have to wait for Book Two to find out, but I can assure you, it is not boring.
Thank you, Mr. Beaver, for your timely plot lesson!
