“You see? This is the problem: People get all judgmental about nature. There’s no right or wrong in nature. That’s a human conceit.”
“You mean nature as in eat-or-get-eaten. You eat men like Felix and Carl. You consume what you need, shit them out, and move on to your next victim. Sometimes the bodies you leave in your wake aren’t even all the way dead.”
“Those men were more alive with me than they had ever been. I didn’t force them to do anything they didn’t already want to do.”
“That’s very orderly, but it’s not the truth.”
“Why don’t you tell me what the truth is?”
“The truth is you found men with weaknesses and aimed them at each other. You set up the operation so they would eliminate each other when their usefulness was spent.”
“Seems to me you eliminated most of them.”
“Yes. I’m the biggest sucker of all. I got conned into this with the best of intentions. You were the one who made sure I would suffer enough that I’d want retribution, enough to justify whatever retribution I could muster. And I did it, just like clockwork. Wind me up and watch me shoot. I did it for me — but each step was at your direction. And to your profit.” The symmetry of the deception was an awesome thing to behold in the light.
“Why didn’t you kill Felix?”she said.
“I didn’t have to. Felix will kill himself. That much was obvious. He’ll flame out, get caught, or otherwise compromise himself. He doesn’t need anybody to kill him. Sorry I messed up the perfection of your hit list.”
“You didn’t kill Felix, but you did kill Carl.”
“I thought Carl was the main viper in this snakepit. I made a mistake.”
“Aww, how sweet — you killed him for betraying you. Very macho. You’re such a man, aren’t you? It takes a lot of guts to murder someone that ready to die, doesn’t it?” She sipped her drink. The look of satisfaction, of satiation on her face was enough to make Barney wish he could kill her more than once.
“How long are you going to drag this out?” Barney said.
“I’ve got all the time in the world,” she said. “So do you. I’m enjoying this, and you could too, if you’d just have a drink and relax.”
Her expression, Barney realized, was the one she probably wore while eating up cockfights or pit-bull tournaments. The face with which corrupt Romans watched speared gladiators, or biowar scientists regarded little designer germs reproducing. Not pleasant.
“Turn-down service might be a little upset to find a corpse in the room,” said Barney. “No extra chocolate mint.” Barney could not see her angle. Time was ticking away. What sort of out did she think she had?
“Oh, I see — you think if you can antagonize me, I’ll do something rash. Like charge you in a flurry of high heels and perfume and die a sort of film noir death? Sorry. I’m not built that way. Tell me: What happened to Mister Moraine?”
Barney’s expression told her it was a mystery.
“The blond man Tannenhauser hired to take care of you in Mexico. We had to outsource him; he cost a lot of money.”
Click; recognition. Once Tannenhauser was in the saddle with Erica and Carl had been subtracted, it was child’s play for him to check emergency rooms all over the continent after Barney’s escape, or rather, disposal. Click; the clinica. Click; Dr. Mendez dies after giving up Barney. The imported assassin dies at Mano’s house...
... and click; the plan changes. Barney is left alone, allowed to live, because what has been done to him is so monstrous that he will do Erica the favor of erasing Felix (oops), erasing Carl (check), and cleaning up the Palacio, thereby erasing every footprint that could lead back to Erica. But Erica is stuck with Tannenhauser, who has all the money. Tannenhauser does not get killed in Mexico. But he does the next best thing: He comes to America to join up with Erica under a totally bogus identity, on the run from the crazy gunman who is, according to intel, back in Mexico behind a huge boner of payback and terminating everybody involved in hurting him. According to every register, credit card bill and travel itinerary, Tannenhauser is not in Los Angeles, which makes him especially easy to eliminate a la carte and at sole discretion.
“He got killed,” said Barney of the wordless Mr. Moraine.
“Now you’re getting it. You killed him before he could kill you — very honorable.”
And as the Palacio had burned, that dirtbag Mojica had scampered to the nearest phone to give Tannenhauser the heads-up. Here he comes.
Still, Mojica had been as good as his corrupt word. Barney’s deal was: Tell me where I can find Tannenhauser; do not lie, and you shall go free. Mojica had abided by those terms, which did not prevent him from alerting Tannenhauser. Damn it all, the little weasel had played fair.
“Who killed Sirius?”
Erica’s forehead crinkled. “Who killed who?”
“My partner. At the shooting range.”
“Oh, the bald man? Sorry, bub; no chance for justice there. After Moraine blew it, Tannenhauser decided to actually work, for a change. He had all you guys tracked the second you stepped back into LA. Tanny had enough spine to do the first, but had to hire the second, because he knew you guys would be spooked. More needless expense.”
Armand had smiled, then died, right in front of Barney. Needless expense.
“Don’t you get it?” she said. “There’s no call for all this hairy, erect, masculine gun-waving. Tanny was going to kill you when you showed here, not me — because I’d already be dead. I shot him with that little gun you found in my purse. It was easy, and a little bit exciting.” Almost independently, her left hand had gone down to stroke the inside of her thigh, as though she was experiencing a rush from the recent memory of murder.
“Felix Rainer was in the process of giving me the heave-ho,” she continued. “I was just a boring little employee at a fashion magazine. He was abusive. Carl saved me — he really did.”
“That’s not the way Carl told it.” Barney recalled the epic story of Rafe Torgeson, another presumed abuser from whom Erica needing saving.
“There were a couple of bad choices in between,” she said. “But I knew enough to put Carl and Felix in the same room together. Their scheme hatched itself. It was just as likely to implode as succeed, but in the process a lot of cash would be floating around. One day Carl said he had known a fellow in Iraq, a brother in arms, the kind of guy about whom you say, ‘Gee, I wish he was here; he could solve everything.’ The kind of man who would make a good enforcer, and in the process, increase the odds of a scam actually working to everybody’s profit. That would be you. All I had to do was encourage Carl to phone you up. But a polite social cocktail-party solicitation was not the way. From what Carl said, I guessed you would respond to a crisis, and I guessed correctly, didn’t I? The late Mr. Tannenhauser was the first to see the potential cash-flow possibilities as a satellite to his kidnapping racket, which was already thriving. When you surprised everybody by surviving, it became clear that the whole chain-of-title could be erased, which is always nice when great gobs of money are concerned. That bloodbath in Mexico? I didn’t do that. You did it. Case fucking closed.” She seemed to deflate at the possibility it was all beyond Barney. “Look, do I have to drag a blackboard and a pointer in here?”
“The only thing left,” said Barney, “is money. Enough to fight over. Enough to cause problems later. How much did Tannenhauser have when he left Mexico?”