When the Devil Comes to Call (A Lars and Shaine Novel Book 2) by Eric Beetner Page B

who’d turned state’s evidence and gone underground. It was the look they got when they got out of a limo at the courthouse and had to walk the twenty-odd feet to the door. News photographers all around, a crowd of gawkers, some angry about alleged offenses. And somewhere in the crowd, a man who wanted them dead. All they had to do was make it to the door and they’d be safe. Like making it back to the womb. But goddamn those last few paces were scary.
    “Meeting on a Saturday. Must be pretty important,” Lars said.
    “It is.” Nikki offered no more.
    “Yeah, Nikki. We’ll clear out for a while.”
    “You can take my car.”
    “We’ve got the rental.”
    “Oh, yeah, right.” Nikki tilted his mug for a sip of coffee that wasn’t there. He set down the mug, too tired to get up and refill it himself.
     
    Nikki didn’t bother to get dressed that day. He sat in his office in a navy blue robe, button up pajamas underneath. He watched clips from porno movies on his computer. They might not do anything for him anymore, but like a castaway who keeps sending an SOS on the broken radio, Nikki kept trying.
    Anthony stepped in to the office, Qualls on his heels.
    “They’re here,” Anthony said, then he quickly retreated.
    Before Nikki could form the question of who is they? Qualls and his counterpart entered the room. The skinny, pale Qualls led in a beer gutted black man in a tan suit coat, out of date tie and pleated pants.
    “Mr. Pagani,” Qualls said. “This is special agent Earl Walker Ford. He’s going to be your handler.”
    Nikki lifted his chin as a greeting.
    Ford could see the suspicion in Nikki’s eyes. Years of generational racism cast doubts on Ford’s ability to do any sort of job of authority, and it gave his new client a slightly sour lemon look to his face. Ford gave his own look right back to Nikki. A grimace to let him know how upset Ford was when he drew the short straw and got this assignment. A look to let Nikki know, you got three months, then I am outta here. After that, you are none of my concern.
    Ford saved his most bitter face for Qualls, the asshole who recommended him for the assignment. On the drive up to White Plains he let Qualls know his displeasure by the clockwork release of a four egg and sausage breakfast’s worth of gas into the car. Qualls hadn’t said a thing about it, but only a dead man wouldn’t have smelled it.
    “I thought you were my handler,” Nikki said to Qualls.
    “No, I’m your contact. See, after I bring you in, I don’t think I’ll be at this office much longer.” He smiled. D.C. beckoned. Well, they would soon. “Agent Ford was acquainted with someone you may remember. A certain Mitchell Kenney.”
    Nikki nodded slowly.
    “Mitch wasn’t exactly my responsibility,” Ford said. “But I was aware of his case and what went down,” Ford looked at Nikki, squinted his eyes and spoke sarcastically. “You do know what happened with Mr. Kenney, don’t you?”
    Nikki gave him a granite stare. “Ate a bullet, I heard.”
    “A four course meal,” Ford continued. “But after he ate, he became my problem. I hope our relationship goes a little better.”
    “So,” Nikki said to Qualls. “You’re giving me a handler who already fucked up once?”
    Qualls ignored him. “So, Nikki,” he said taking his usual seat on the leather sofa. Ford stood. “Ford here will be the one with your new identity, your new location. It’s all still being worked out. During the trial we’ll have you close by. In the city. By the time that’s all wrapped up, we’ll have a plan in place for your more permanent residence.”
    And with any luck I’ll be retired by then, thought Ford. “How do you feel about Florida?” Ford said.
    “They got bugs,” Nikki said.
    “And sunshine.”
    “And alligators.”
    “Don’t forget the shuffleboard.”
    Nikki decided to stop the playful banter before they started to like each other.
    Qualls smiled at the two old cranks.