bring the beer and the steaks and you supply the grill and charcoal.”
“Will wood do?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, what time?”
“Five, five thirty.”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.”
I didn’t drive away until he was inside and out of sight. When I got home, I unloaded the truck, took a shower, and ate breakfast. But the strange hum in my body wouldn’t still.
I went ahead and laid down even though I wasn’t tired, and after staring at the ceiling a while, I resorted to counting down the minutes as they ticked off the clock on the bedside table.
Time slowed just to be spiteful.
I was about to give up and go do something productive when my cell phone rang. I retrieved it from the bedside table where I’d left it, my wallet, and a handful of crumpled dollar bills.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.” Jeff.
“Why are you calling me?”
“You told me to use a phone the next time I needed to talk with you, rather than buy a plane ticket.”
“I told you that I’m not going to help you.” I sat up. “I won’t betray the confidence of my clients.”
“Well, you may not have a choice.”
“Is that a threat, Agent Shaldon?” In my line of work, threats got people killed.
Because where I came from, threats were nothing more than the echo of future actions.
“No threat, Grant. At least not the kind you’re thinking of.”
“What other kind is there?”
“A heads-up.” There was a rattle of movement and a moment of background noise that sounded an awful lot like… an elephant? “Where are you?”
“The zoo.”
“Why are you calling me from the zoo?”
“Because I wanted to make sure what I have to tell you couldn’t be heard by any of our surveillance teams or any other interested party.”
“Are you saying I need to worry about the FBI spying on me?”
“Only if you’ve done something illegal. Which you have clearly stated many times, you haven’t. And as you’ve so eloquently pointed out, you have the paperwork to prove it.”
“Who’s the other interested party?”
“Carson Lorado.”
“Why the hell would Carson care about what I do? I’m nothing to him.”
“He’s a paranoid son-of-a-bitch who kills like people take vitamins, as preventative medicine.”
“Touché.” Jeff was right. Carson was exactly the kind of man who turned business into bloodshed. His way of thinking had spread through my neighborhood like a plague, turning prospective clients and partners into dangerous investments. Apparently even the criminal world had gotten so lazy it was easier to shoot people than deal with them. “How do you know he’s got an interest in me?”
A child squealed somewhere beyond the rise and fall of happy music. It faded until the silence was almost absolute.
I was about to ask Jeff if he was still there when he said, “Someone hacked my computer.”
“And you think Carson did it?”
“Whoever it was only went for one thing.”
“What?”
“My travel plans.”
“To here?”
“Exactly.”
“Have you considered one of your playmates might be trying to dig up dirt on you? After all, I was fucking you.”
His exhale hit the speaker hard. “My playmates knew I went down there. They wanted me to wear a wire, remember?”
“And you took it off.”
Another exhale.
“You motherfucker.”
“I had to.”
“You care to tell me why?”
“If I hadn’t worn it, Hines would have sent someone else. And someone else might have gone after you in a way to make you fuck up. You know as well as I do how this game can be played. Hines wants you in here bad, Grant. He knows you have information, and he wants it.”
“And you still think the break-in was Carson?”
“One of Carson’s associates was hit by a bus almost a week ago.”
“Sounds like Karma.”
“More like someone upstairs is looking out for you.”
“How so?”
“Don Wallis, Carson’s first choice hit man. He had a slip of paper in his wallet. The numbers didn’t make sense when I
“Will wood do?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, what time?”
“Five, five thirty.”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.”
I didn’t drive away until he was inside and out of sight. When I got home, I unloaded the truck, took a shower, and ate breakfast. But the strange hum in my body wouldn’t still.
I went ahead and laid down even though I wasn’t tired, and after staring at the ceiling a while, I resorted to counting down the minutes as they ticked off the clock on the bedside table.
Time slowed just to be spiteful.
I was about to give up and go do something productive when my cell phone rang. I retrieved it from the bedside table where I’d left it, my wallet, and a handful of crumpled dollar bills.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.” Jeff.
“Why are you calling me?”
“You told me to use a phone the next time I needed to talk with you, rather than buy a plane ticket.”
“I told you that I’m not going to help you.” I sat up. “I won’t betray the confidence of my clients.”
“Well, you may not have a choice.”
“Is that a threat, Agent Shaldon?” In my line of work, threats got people killed.
Because where I came from, threats were nothing more than the echo of future actions.
“No threat, Grant. At least not the kind you’re thinking of.”
“What other kind is there?”
“A heads-up.” There was a rattle of movement and a moment of background noise that sounded an awful lot like… an elephant? “Where are you?”
“The zoo.”
“Why are you calling me from the zoo?”
“Because I wanted to make sure what I have to tell you couldn’t be heard by any of our surveillance teams or any other interested party.”
“Are you saying I need to worry about the FBI spying on me?”
“Only if you’ve done something illegal. Which you have clearly stated many times, you haven’t. And as you’ve so eloquently pointed out, you have the paperwork to prove it.”
“Who’s the other interested party?”
“Carson Lorado.”
“Why the hell would Carson care about what I do? I’m nothing to him.”
“He’s a paranoid son-of-a-bitch who kills like people take vitamins, as preventative medicine.”
“Touché.” Jeff was right. Carson was exactly the kind of man who turned business into bloodshed. His way of thinking had spread through my neighborhood like a plague, turning prospective clients and partners into dangerous investments. Apparently even the criminal world had gotten so lazy it was easier to shoot people than deal with them. “How do you know he’s got an interest in me?”
A child squealed somewhere beyond the rise and fall of happy music. It faded until the silence was almost absolute.
I was about to ask Jeff if he was still there when he said, “Someone hacked my computer.”
“And you think Carson did it?”
“Whoever it was only went for one thing.”
“What?”
“My travel plans.”
“To here?”
“Exactly.”
“Have you considered one of your playmates might be trying to dig up dirt on you? After all, I was fucking you.”
His exhale hit the speaker hard. “My playmates knew I went down there. They wanted me to wear a wire, remember?”
“And you took it off.”
Another exhale.
“You motherfucker.”
“I had to.”
“You care to tell me why?”
“If I hadn’t worn it, Hines would have sent someone else. And someone else might have gone after you in a way to make you fuck up. You know as well as I do how this game can be played. Hines wants you in here bad, Grant. He knows you have information, and he wants it.”
“And you still think the break-in was Carson?”
“One of Carson’s associates was hit by a bus almost a week ago.”
“Sounds like Karma.”
“More like someone upstairs is looking out for you.”
“How so?”
“Don Wallis, Carson’s first choice hit man. He had a slip of paper in his wallet. The numbers didn’t make sense when I
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