Thin Line by L.T. Ryan Page A

affiliate.
    The other item he withdrew from the drawer remained in his hand. He twirled one hundred eighty degrees in his seat and aimed the remote control at the
    wall. Two panels split in the middle and parted in opposite directions, revealing a wide-screen television. He clicked the remote and the screen lit up.
    What followed were several scenes from the morning Bear and I had entered the brownstone to terminate Brett Taylor. Other footage had been mixed in. I saw
    Neil McLellan facing the window and turn toward the camera. Then he was in the bedroom. The angle made it impossible to tell who else was in there. In a
    sequence of shots, his expression changed, became confused, possibly scared. A moment later he was dead. The assailant wasn't caught on film. But next was
    a shot of Bear and me standing over the lifeless corpse.
    "It's still a work in progress." The Old Man paused the footage. "I have an expert editor working on it right now. He has enough footage of you two in the
    building, and in the apartment, to stitch together a compelling time line that all but puts the murder weapon in your hands. But I think when the detective
    sees you in the apartment with the corpse, she'll put it all together. A shame you lied to her. I really think she likes you. You could have a chance with
    her, if she never sees this footage that is."
    I couldn't wait long to respond, but it was key to process the information first. I had searched the building and hadn't found a camera. Bear ran through
    it with an RF detector, and we'd found nothing. Where was the surveillance equipment? And how the hell did the Old Man get his hands on it? Was he involved
    with Taylor in some way? I could only surmise that they had to be working together. Perhaps that was the reason Bear and I had been sent to dispose of
    Taylor.
    "I can see you are struggling with this, Mr. Jack." He clicked off the television and twirled back toward me. "I'm not a fan of coercing people to work
    with me, but it has and does work effectively."
    "You know some of my history, the people I worked for. It should be obvious I have connections that can make things happen. What makes you think that
    turning that footage over to the police is going to accomplish anything?"
    The Old Man said nothing.
    I shifted forward in my seat. Our eyes were level. I placed my forearm along the edge of his desk and continued forward another couple inches. "You flip on
    me and I'll do everything in my power to bring your organization down."
    His eyes narrowed to slits and his hands clenched into fists. Presumably, not many men entered the Old Man's place of business and threatened him. Then, as
    I thought his blood pressure was close to maxing out, the redness left his face and his lips loosened into a smile.
    The Old Man laughed.
    "I knew I'd like you, Mr. Jack. Balls you have. For a man to come in here, knowing he is outgunned a hundred to one, more than that, and stand up to me
    like that…" He leaned back in his chair, throwing his arms up and letting them fall behind his head. "You, Mr. Jack, are my kind of man. Now, let's
    make a deal."
    I mirrored his posture and positioning. In high stakes negotiation, he who speaks first loses. I wouldn't talk until the Old Man did. And I had no clue how
    long that would take. The Old Man didn't get to the position he was in without being a good negotiator.
    That's why it surprised me he spoke so soon.
    "I can see you need a little more persuading, Mr. Jack. So perhaps you'd like to hear what really happened the morning you were to terminate Brett Taylor?"

     

Chapter 18

    I FOUGHT THE urge to jump from my chair. Obviously the Old Man knew more than just about anyone else about the events that morning. He had video footage to
    back it up, too. And he had connections with at least one of the men, possibly both. He could have been the one to arrange for the corpse to be switched.
    The body I viewed at the morgue could have been an unlucky sap who'd run