“Anyway, the guys in the Saturn knew what kind of truck I drove, because the minute I pull up, the passenger comes over carrying a gym bag.”
“What did this guy look like?”
“White, in his forties, clean-shaven, kind of going bald in front. Eyes as cold as a freaking lizard’s.”
“You get his name?”
“Rule number one was ‘no names.’ He told me to stay in the truck and then he got inside.” Bronsey took a sip of his drink. “I knew right then I was in over my head, because the first thing the guy does is whip out this little device and waves it around the inside of the truck. He tells me that our conversation is confidential and he wants to make sure that we’re not going to be overheard or recorded.”
“There’s usually a good or, more likely, really bad reason why someone would worry about listening devices. That should’ve made warning bells go off in your head.”
Bronsey held up his hand to forestall me from making any further judgmental observations. “I know. I know. But two thousand dollars for a few hours’ work? The finance company is looking to repo my truck, so I couldn’t pass it up.”
Ash folded her arms and you didn’t need to be an expert in body language to know what she thought of Bronsey’s rationalizations.
I asked, “And just what was the job, Merv?”
“Lizard Eyes knows all about me. He knows my PI business is in the crapper. He knows I need the money. He says that all I have to do is contact a guy, deliver the bag, and pick up some merchandise.”
“When were you supposed to deliver the goods to Lizard Eyes?”
“Tomorrow. The guy is supposed to call to set up another meeting.”
I chuckled in disbelief. “My God. Weren’t you at least a little worried that you were being asked to work as a dope mule?”
“I’m not an idiot, Lyon.” Bronsey glowered at me. “I told the guy that if this was a dope deal, he could go straight to hell. Look, I may not have been a recruiting poster cop, but I’ve never been in the narc trade.”
“So, I guess it must have come as a shock when the guy told you that you were buying a stolen robotic teddy bear.”
“He never said it was hot.”
“And I’ll bet you never asked.”
There was a long pause and then Bronsey said, “Just for once, come down from your freaking high horse and try to look at it from my point of view. I was drowning, Lyon. The guy told me that there was nothing illegal in what they were doing. They just wanted to keep their company’s name out of a potential lawsuit.”
“Okay, Merv, I’ll assume you didn’t believe you were breaking any laws.” I glanced at Ash, whose look of annoyance clearly said that she didn’t like being lied to. “Even if my wife doesn’t buy a word of it. What else did this guy tell you?”
“He says that Kyle Vandenbosch is getting a royal screwing from some company I never heard of, called Lycaon. The story was that Kyle developed some whiz-bang new toy on his own dime and wanted to sell it to the guy’s company, but that Lycaon is claiming it’s theirs.”
“And you were supposed to conduct the actual transaction, so that the buying company’s hands would stay as clean as Pontius Pilate’s.”
“I guess.”
“So, you accepted the job. What happened next?”
“The guy gave me Vandenbosch’s phone number and told me that he didn’t care where I set up the meet, so long as it was done quickly and the location had a telephone landline.” Bronsey took another swallow of his drink and crunched an ice cube between his teeth. “If I had it to do all over again, I’d have taken that number and flushed it down the toilet.”
Ten
“But you still have Kyle’s number?” I asked.
Bronsey nodded. “Yeah.”
“Could we have it?”
“Why not? I sure as hell ain’t gonna call him.”
He reached into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet and as he did his jacket flapped open, revealing a black auto-pistol in a brown leather shoulder holster.
“What did this guy look like?”
“White, in his forties, clean-shaven, kind of going bald in front. Eyes as cold as a freaking lizard’s.”
“You get his name?”
“Rule number one was ‘no names.’ He told me to stay in the truck and then he got inside.” Bronsey took a sip of his drink. “I knew right then I was in over my head, because the first thing the guy does is whip out this little device and waves it around the inside of the truck. He tells me that our conversation is confidential and he wants to make sure that we’re not going to be overheard or recorded.”
“There’s usually a good or, more likely, really bad reason why someone would worry about listening devices. That should’ve made warning bells go off in your head.”
Bronsey held up his hand to forestall me from making any further judgmental observations. “I know. I know. But two thousand dollars for a few hours’ work? The finance company is looking to repo my truck, so I couldn’t pass it up.”
Ash folded her arms and you didn’t need to be an expert in body language to know what she thought of Bronsey’s rationalizations.
I asked, “And just what was the job, Merv?”
“Lizard Eyes knows all about me. He knows my PI business is in the crapper. He knows I need the money. He says that all I have to do is contact a guy, deliver the bag, and pick up some merchandise.”
“When were you supposed to deliver the goods to Lizard Eyes?”
“Tomorrow. The guy is supposed to call to set up another meeting.”
I chuckled in disbelief. “My God. Weren’t you at least a little worried that you were being asked to work as a dope mule?”
“I’m not an idiot, Lyon.” Bronsey glowered at me. “I told the guy that if this was a dope deal, he could go straight to hell. Look, I may not have been a recruiting poster cop, but I’ve never been in the narc trade.”
“So, I guess it must have come as a shock when the guy told you that you were buying a stolen robotic teddy bear.”
“He never said it was hot.”
“And I’ll bet you never asked.”
There was a long pause and then Bronsey said, “Just for once, come down from your freaking high horse and try to look at it from my point of view. I was drowning, Lyon. The guy told me that there was nothing illegal in what they were doing. They just wanted to keep their company’s name out of a potential lawsuit.”
“Okay, Merv, I’ll assume you didn’t believe you were breaking any laws.” I glanced at Ash, whose look of annoyance clearly said that she didn’t like being lied to. “Even if my wife doesn’t buy a word of it. What else did this guy tell you?”
“He says that Kyle Vandenbosch is getting a royal screwing from some company I never heard of, called Lycaon. The story was that Kyle developed some whiz-bang new toy on his own dime and wanted to sell it to the guy’s company, but that Lycaon is claiming it’s theirs.”
“And you were supposed to conduct the actual transaction, so that the buying company’s hands would stay as clean as Pontius Pilate’s.”
“I guess.”
“So, you accepted the job. What happened next?”
“The guy gave me Vandenbosch’s phone number and told me that he didn’t care where I set up the meet, so long as it was done quickly and the location had a telephone landline.” Bronsey took another swallow of his drink and crunched an ice cube between his teeth. “If I had it to do all over again, I’d have taken that number and flushed it down the toilet.”
Ten
“But you still have Kyle’s number?” I asked.
Bronsey nodded. “Yeah.”
“Could we have it?”
“Why not? I sure as hell ain’t gonna call him.”
He reached into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet and as he did his jacket flapped open, revealing a black auto-pistol in a brown leather shoulder holster.
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