some of the concern apparent in Hariss’ voice.
‘Exactly. Incredible stupidity, one would say at first glance. After all, he has what he wanted: the heroin and the money which was to be used to buy it. Why attract attention?’
Kolinski said haltingly, thinking it through, ‘But then when he is spotted, he pulls some sort of very cool switch to disappear completely and leave us running around in circles …’
‘As if he’s laughing at us,’ said Hariss. ‘Why? Is he indeed erratic, or is he playing some sort of game? And where is he? And why hasn’t Neil Fargo come up with anything further—’
The phone rang.
Kolinski picked it up, spoke his name into it, listened. He cupped the receiver with his hand and turned to Hariss. ‘Neil Fargo. He’s got news about Docker.’
11
W alter Hariss moved with a fluid grace surprising in a man of his obviously self-indulgent habits, plucked the receiver off the wall phone over the squatty safe in time to hear Neil Fargo’s voice demand sharply, ‘Who else just came on besides you, Kolinski?’
‘Hariss,’ said the fleshy importer.
‘Good. Half an hour ago Docker rented a car at a joint down the other side of Market. It’s a canary yellow Montego, this year’s or maybe last year’s model, two-door sedan—’
‘License?’ Kolinski’s pen was poised.
‘No got. My man spotted him walking out on Howard, lost him when he ducked into a second-hand office furniture supply warehouse in the eight-hundred block. Twenty minutes later, my man made him again, just driving the Montego out of the car-rental outfit. He wasn’t in close enough to get the license—’
‘Why in fuck didn’t you tell him to go in and get it from the girl behind the desk?’ snarled Kolinski.
Neil Fargo’s voice instantly hardened. ‘Listen, asshole, I’m getting this all relayed through my secretary. I wasn’t in touch with this guy direct. I’m not sitting around my fucking office waiting for Docker to come in and sit in my lap.’
‘What’s the name of the rental outfit?’ asked Hariss soothingly.
‘Never mind that, I’m on my way down there now. I’ll let you know when I pick anything up.’
Kolinski began, ‘Listen, goddammit—’
He stopped. He and Hariss were listening to the empty buzz of a dial tone. Hariss slammed a hand in frustration against the dirty plaster wall of the office. His face was very pale.
‘Who does he think he is?’ he panted. ‘Get Gus.’
Kolinski leaned out the door to bawl across the garage at the diminutive chauffeur. ‘Gus! Get your ass in here.’
Rizzato immediately popped out of the Cadillac, trotted up to the office. He should have been comic in the long dark blue coat and peaked cap he affected while behind the wheel of the limousine, but no figure of fun ever wore eyes like Rizzato’s.
‘Yessir, Mr Hariss?’ He stood in the office door like a dog waiting to be told which way to point. Hariss laid the hand which bore the cigar on his narrow muscular shoulder.
‘Gus, I want you to go over to Neil Fargo’s office. There are some things I want you to find out.’
Obscure excitement sparked the little man’s eyes. ‘I’ll ask that secretary of his.’
‘With restraint, Gus. With restraint. For now.’
‘Yessir, Mr Hariss.’
‘All right, three things. When Neil Fargo came into his office this morning was he carrying a package? A newspaper-wrapped package, perhaps? Two, is there such a package at his office now? Three, did a call actually relay information about Docker renting a car, and was a license number mentioned which the secretary passed on to Fargo? Now, on your way.’ He let the diminutive chauffeur get to the door before calling after him, ‘Restraint, Gus. For the moment.’
Hariss sat down again half-smiling; his good humor was quite restored. He drew on the cigar, put his head back to drift the rich smoke at the ceiling.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Kolinski. ‘What’s with this package? And
‘Exactly. Incredible stupidity, one would say at first glance. After all, he has what he wanted: the heroin and the money which was to be used to buy it. Why attract attention?’
Kolinski said haltingly, thinking it through, ‘But then when he is spotted, he pulls some sort of very cool switch to disappear completely and leave us running around in circles …’
‘As if he’s laughing at us,’ said Hariss. ‘Why? Is he indeed erratic, or is he playing some sort of game? And where is he? And why hasn’t Neil Fargo come up with anything further—’
The phone rang.
Kolinski picked it up, spoke his name into it, listened. He cupped the receiver with his hand and turned to Hariss. ‘Neil Fargo. He’s got news about Docker.’
11
W alter Hariss moved with a fluid grace surprising in a man of his obviously self-indulgent habits, plucked the receiver off the wall phone over the squatty safe in time to hear Neil Fargo’s voice demand sharply, ‘Who else just came on besides you, Kolinski?’
‘Hariss,’ said the fleshy importer.
‘Good. Half an hour ago Docker rented a car at a joint down the other side of Market. It’s a canary yellow Montego, this year’s or maybe last year’s model, two-door sedan—’
‘License?’ Kolinski’s pen was poised.
‘No got. My man spotted him walking out on Howard, lost him when he ducked into a second-hand office furniture supply warehouse in the eight-hundred block. Twenty minutes later, my man made him again, just driving the Montego out of the car-rental outfit. He wasn’t in close enough to get the license—’
‘Why in fuck didn’t you tell him to go in and get it from the girl behind the desk?’ snarled Kolinski.
Neil Fargo’s voice instantly hardened. ‘Listen, asshole, I’m getting this all relayed through my secretary. I wasn’t in touch with this guy direct. I’m not sitting around my fucking office waiting for Docker to come in and sit in my lap.’
‘What’s the name of the rental outfit?’ asked Hariss soothingly.
‘Never mind that, I’m on my way down there now. I’ll let you know when I pick anything up.’
Kolinski began, ‘Listen, goddammit—’
He stopped. He and Hariss were listening to the empty buzz of a dial tone. Hariss slammed a hand in frustration against the dirty plaster wall of the office. His face was very pale.
‘Who does he think he is?’ he panted. ‘Get Gus.’
Kolinski leaned out the door to bawl across the garage at the diminutive chauffeur. ‘Gus! Get your ass in here.’
Rizzato immediately popped out of the Cadillac, trotted up to the office. He should have been comic in the long dark blue coat and peaked cap he affected while behind the wheel of the limousine, but no figure of fun ever wore eyes like Rizzato’s.
‘Yessir, Mr Hariss?’ He stood in the office door like a dog waiting to be told which way to point. Hariss laid the hand which bore the cigar on his narrow muscular shoulder.
‘Gus, I want you to go over to Neil Fargo’s office. There are some things I want you to find out.’
Obscure excitement sparked the little man’s eyes. ‘I’ll ask that secretary of his.’
‘With restraint, Gus. With restraint. For now.’
‘Yessir, Mr Hariss.’
‘All right, three things. When Neil Fargo came into his office this morning was he carrying a package? A newspaper-wrapped package, perhaps? Two, is there such a package at his office now? Three, did a call actually relay information about Docker renting a car, and was a license number mentioned which the secretary passed on to Fargo? Now, on your way.’ He let the diminutive chauffeur get to the door before calling after him, ‘Restraint, Gus. For the moment.’
Hariss sat down again half-smiling; his good humor was quite restored. He drew on the cigar, put his head back to drift the rich smoke at the ceiling.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Kolinski. ‘What’s with this package? And
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