Kim Oh 2: Real Dangerous Job (The Kim Oh Thrillers) by K. W. Jeter Page B
Authors: K. W. Jeter
Tags: Mystery & Crime
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so much – I mean I liked talking to him – that I ran after him and caught up with him out on the street. I asked him what he was going to do now. He smiled and told me that he was just going to keep on walking. As far as he could. And see where he got to.”
I could see Cole fiddling with his cigarette pack on top of the table, pushing it with his finger.
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my eyes. “I talk too much. It’s just . . . I can still see him, walking down the street. And I wanted to go with him. And I didn’t.”
My hands laid themselves flat on the table. I must’ve looked a mess by now.
“All right,” said Cole. “We’ll do it.”
“Really?” I looked up hopefully at him.
In this world, that’s what counts as hope anymore. If you’re lucky, if you win the lottery, you get to kill somebody and maybe get killed yourself. It’s something, at least.
“Sure.” Cole picked up his cigarettes and tucked them inside his jacket. Getting ready to leave. “Why not? But –”
My breath caught in my throat.
“Remember I asked you something? About what else you wanted to do?”
I nodded. “You wanted to know if it mattered to me. If I was still alive afterward.”
“What’s your answer now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay,” he said. “That’s good enough.”
* * *
Later, after I had gotten Cole downstairs to the van and taken him back to the warehouse, I thought about it some more. Lying on the couch, with the blanket pulled up to my neck, gazing at the ceiling.
Not about what I wanted. But about that bit with him telling me that he was pulling the plug on the whole thing.
He’d probably been gaming me. I realized that now. Running a number on me. The kind of thing that somebody like him did, to get somebody like me where I needed to be.
I didn’t mind. At least I was there.
I picked up the shiny .357 from where I had set it down beside the couch. With my eyes closed, gripping the gun tight in both hands, I pressed its smooth, cold flank fiercely against my breast.
PART TWO
They’re right when they say that fear is a man’s best friend. As long as it’s the other guy’s.
– Cole’s Book of Wisdom
TWELVE
I pissed Cole off.
By getting out to his place late the next day. Something came up in the morning, that I had to deal with.
I was still pulling myself together, getting dressed and stuff, when my cell phone rang.
“I’m trying to get hold of someone named Kim Oh .” The woman’s voice emphasized the last two words, the way people do when they’re calling a number they never have before. “Is this her?”
“Who’s asking?” I had gotten a lot more cautious these days. I supposed it came with the territory.
“This is Karen Ibanez.”
The TV reporter. I wasn’t completely happy about her getting hold of me. I wouldn’t even have cared whether she had remembered me or not, from when I had come to see her at the TV station, carrying along with me the binder full of backup disks that I’d thought would nail McIntyre’s hide to the wall. And which she had set me straight about.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re talking to me. What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I told you – you already are.”
“Don’t screw around with me, Kim.” Her voice turned hard. “This is important.”
That didn’t make it much different from everything else that was going on.
“How important?”
“Important,” Ibanez said, “as in your ass is in big trouble important.”
“Tell me something new.”
“Okay. How about important as in you blew up a bunch of people downtown yesterday . Does that sufficiently ring your chimes?”
“Oh.”
That hadn’t taken long. I didn’t know how
I could see Cole fiddling with his cigarette pack on top of the table, pushing it with his finger.
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my eyes. “I talk too much. It’s just . . . I can still see him, walking down the street. And I wanted to go with him. And I didn’t.”
My hands laid themselves flat on the table. I must’ve looked a mess by now.
“All right,” said Cole. “We’ll do it.”
“Really?” I looked up hopefully at him.
In this world, that’s what counts as hope anymore. If you’re lucky, if you win the lottery, you get to kill somebody and maybe get killed yourself. It’s something, at least.
“Sure.” Cole picked up his cigarettes and tucked them inside his jacket. Getting ready to leave. “Why not? But –”
My breath caught in my throat.
“Remember I asked you something? About what else you wanted to do?”
I nodded. “You wanted to know if it mattered to me. If I was still alive afterward.”
“What’s your answer now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay,” he said. “That’s good enough.”
* * *
Later, after I had gotten Cole downstairs to the van and taken him back to the warehouse, I thought about it some more. Lying on the couch, with the blanket pulled up to my neck, gazing at the ceiling.
Not about what I wanted. But about that bit with him telling me that he was pulling the plug on the whole thing.
He’d probably been gaming me. I realized that now. Running a number on me. The kind of thing that somebody like him did, to get somebody like me where I needed to be.
I didn’t mind. At least I was there.
I picked up the shiny .357 from where I had set it down beside the couch. With my eyes closed, gripping the gun tight in both hands, I pressed its smooth, cold flank fiercely against my breast.
PART TWO
They’re right when they say that fear is a man’s best friend. As long as it’s the other guy’s.
– Cole’s Book of Wisdom
TWELVE
I pissed Cole off.
By getting out to his place late the next day. Something came up in the morning, that I had to deal with.
I was still pulling myself together, getting dressed and stuff, when my cell phone rang.
“I’m trying to get hold of someone named Kim Oh .” The woman’s voice emphasized the last two words, the way people do when they’re calling a number they never have before. “Is this her?”
“Who’s asking?” I had gotten a lot more cautious these days. I supposed it came with the territory.
“This is Karen Ibanez.”
The TV reporter. I wasn’t completely happy about her getting hold of me. I wouldn’t even have cared whether she had remembered me or not, from when I had come to see her at the TV station, carrying along with me the binder full of backup disks that I’d thought would nail McIntyre’s hide to the wall. And which she had set me straight about.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re talking to me. What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I told you – you already are.”
“Don’t screw around with me, Kim.” Her voice turned hard. “This is important.”
That didn’t make it much different from everything else that was going on.
“How important?”
“Important,” Ibanez said, “as in your ass is in big trouble important.”
“Tell me something new.”
“Okay. How about important as in you blew up a bunch of people downtown yesterday . Does that sufficiently ring your chimes?”
“Oh.”
That hadn’t taken long. I didn’t know how
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