"Yeah," said Millard as he released Longarm's hand. He frowned in thought for a moment, then jerked his head toward the door at the end of the bar. "Let's go back to my office. Paul, you and Annie can come along too since you're the ones who brought Parker here tonight." Clement looked excited at the prospect of visiting Millard's office. He said, "We'll take you up on that invitation, I
I Jasper. Come along, Annie."
Annie seemed less enthused at the idea of joining Millard in the club owner's office, but as usual, she went along with her brother. Longarm had already figured out that Annie might sometimes give in to impulses of her own when she was alone, as when she had invited him to join them tonight, but whenever she was with Paul, he called the shots. Now that the crush at the bar had lessened somewhat, Millard was able to leave it to his bartenders to handle things. He shrugged back into his coat and led Longarm, Clement, and Annie through the door and into a rear hallway. Several doors opened off the corridor. At the far end was a door leading out to a dark alley. That was the entrance that the second wave of Royale's men had used. From the looks of the splintered jamb, they had kicked their way in. Millard already had a couple of men standing guard there, both of them armed with greeners.
Millard led Longarm, Clement, and Annie through another door, this one opening into a luxuriously appointed office. A large desk was the main item of furniture inside the office, but there were also several chairs upholstered in dark leather. Bookshelves, a liquor cabinet, and another cabinet containing several shotguns lined the walls. A lamp on the desk was burning low, and the shadows were thick in the corners of the room. There were no windows, and Longarm wondered if that was so no one could take a shot at Millard through them. A man like Millard had to lead a worrisome life.
With a sigh, Millard lowered himself into the chair behind the desk and gestured for his guests to take the other chairs. Clement held Annie's chair for her. When everyone was seated, Millard reached into one of the desk drawers and brought out a bottle and some glasses. "This is my best cognac," he said. His eyes lifted to meet Longarm's. "I'd be honored to have you join me, sir. And you and Annie too, of course, Paul."
"Much obliged," said Longarm with a nod. He reached into his vest pocket for a cheroot.
Millard paused in pouring the cognac to gently push a fine wooden box across the desk. "Try one of those, Parker. I get a shipment of them from Havana every month."
Longarm lifted the lid of the box and took out a cigar. He sniffed it appreciatively, broke the band on it, and stuck it in his mouth. As Longarm scratched a lucifer into life, Paul Clement leaned forward and helped himself to one of the cigars too. Millard didn't seem to mind. Longarm puffed on his smoke and got it going, but Clement just tucked his away in a pocket for later. Millard handed glasses of cognac across the desk.
"To timely arrivals," said the club owner as he lifted his drink. Longarm nodded, wondering what Millard meant by that. He found out soon enough, because Millard went on, "I'm talking about you, Parker."
Longarm sipped his cognac and grinned. "You mean the way I was able to stop those two old boys from ventilating you? Hell, that was just good luck."
"And good shooting," grunted Millard. "But I don't really believe in luck, Parker. I believe in Fate. It had to be Fate that brought you here to New Orleans just when I was looking for a man like you."
Longarm frowned. "You mean-"
"I mean, how would you like to go to work for me?"
CHAPTER 5
Longarm tried not to stare across the desk at Millard. Good luck was still playing into his hands. He had wanted to work in amongst the smugglers, and here and now, on his first night in New Orleans, one of the reputed ringleaders was offering him a job.
Once again, Longarm's brain swiftly considered the possibility that he was being set up somehow. He came to the same conclusion he'd come to earlier when he was pondering Annie's invitation to join her and her brother tonight. There was simply no way that anyone in New Orleans could know who he really was. Fortune had merely been on his side so far on this assignment.
Which was enough to make him a mite nervous, he reflected. Good luck couldn't be depended upon, because it could run out at any time with no warning.
Those thoughts ran through his head in a matter of seconds, but the pause was long enough to prompt Millard to ask, "Well? How about it, Parker?"
Longarm nodded. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Millard. Like I told you, I'm sort of between jobs."
"Does that mean you accept?"
"I sure do," Longarm told him.
"Without even asking what it is I want you to do?"
Longarm grinned easily. "I figure whatever it is, I'll be able to handle it all right."
Millard gave a short bark of laughter and said, "That's what I figure too."
"Despite the trouble, this evening has worked out well all around, I'd say," Paul Clement put in.
Millard scowled. "I don't know that I'd go that far. This business with Royale..." He shook his head, and the hand that wasn't holding the glass of cognac tightened into a fist.
"Tell me about Royale," said Longarm. "I reckon if I'm going to be working for you, I'd best know what's going on."
"I tell my people what they need to know, and that's all," growled Millard. His tone softened a little as he went on. "However, since I'm counting on you to be my right-hand man, Parker, I suppose you do have a right to know about Royale. Hell, I won't be giving away any secrets. Practically the whole town knows that we're enemies, Royale and I."
"Who is he?" asked Longarm.
Millard shook his head. "Nobody really knows. Nobody I've ever talked to has even seen him. I've gotten my hands on a couple of men who worked for him, and even they don't know who he really is or what he looks like." He scowled in frustration. "And I know how to ask questions that get honest answers too."
I'll just bet you do, old son, thought Longarm, but he kept the comment to himself. Aloud, he said, "Sounds like some kind of mystery man."
"Exactly. But as you saw tonight, it's no mystery what Royale wants. He wants to put me out of business."
"You reckon he owns another gambling club?"
"I don't think so." Millard glanced at the Clements. "The Brass Pelican isn't my only business. I have... other enterprises." It was clear that he didn't want to speak too openly about those enterprises in front of Annie and her brother.
Clement took the hint. He drained the last of his cognac and reached for Annie's hand as he stood up. "If it's all right with you, Jasper," he said smoothly, "Annie and I will go back out and see if the roulette wheel is functioning again. You know me--all this talk of business bores me."
Millard waved a hand toward the door. "Sure, go ahead. Just one thing, Paul..." Clement and Annie paused at the doorway. "Yes?"
"Thanks for bringing Parker with you tonight."
"It was our pleasure," said Clement with a grin.
Annie looked at Longarm and said, "I'll see you later, I suppose, Custis."
"I reckon you can count on that," Longarm told her sincerely.
Annie and Clement left the office. When they were gone, Longarm leaned back in his chair and puffed on the cigar while Millard refilled their glasses. "Martell," the club owner said, indicating the label on the cognac bottle. "The finest in the world. I bring it in from France."
"The same way you bring in cigars from Cuba?" guessed Longarm.
Millard's quick grin told Longarm he was right. "I don't pay customs duty on either one of them, if that's what you mean. They come in through the Delta."
"So one of those other business enterprises you mentioned is smuggling."
"That bother you?" asked Millard bluntly.
Longarm took another puff on the cigar and shook his head. "Nope. Not even a little bit."