“Such as?” he said. He had winced, just slightly, upon sight of the automatic; otherwise he maintained an admirable cool.
“Do we have it understood,” I said, “that if I were here to kill you, you’d be dead by now? That if I were here to steal from you, you’d be trussed up and we wouldn’t be talking at all? That if this were a kidnapping, I’d have hauled your ass out of here already? Do we understand all that?”
He nodded very slowly. The light blue eyes bored into me like soothing lasers. Their color reminded me of Linda’s eyes. I tried not to think about that.
“I came in here the way I did for a couple of reasons,” I said, “all of them good. First, you’re not an easy man to see. I tried finding you at your campaign headquarters, and heard all about how reclusive you are. Second, I wanted to show you that if somebody did want to see you bad enough, they could get it done, reclusive or not.”
His mouth twitched in a half-smile. “I thought I had excellent security.”
“Your security is pretty half-assed. But even if it were great, you could be gotten to. Anybody can be gotten to.”
“If you’re not here to kill me or steal from me or kidnap me,” he said, “why are you here?”
“To make you a business offer, for one thing. For another, to save your life.”
An eyebrow arched. “Why don’t we go out in the bar and talk.”
“Fine. But if any of your staff should show up- somebody I don’t know about, or the one guy I didn’t take time to bind up, or anybody else with a gun or something — you’re going to make ’em back off. Otherwise, people are going to get hurt. And I can just about guarantee you, you’ll be one of them.”
He nodded, as if to say, fair enough.
“Could I use the bathroom first?” he asked. There was one off the bedroom.
“Sure,” I said. “Leave the door open.”
He frowned at that, but said nothing. He went in there but didn’t use the john. He ran water, washed his hands. Then he bent over the counter, like he was almost kissing it. I didn’t know what he was up to, until he turned and was wiping a little white powder off his nose. The small mirror on the bathroom counter reflected the overhead light.
Then I followed him out into the circular bar.
“Would you care for something to drink?” he asked.
“No. But help yourself.”
He went to the bar and poured himself several fingers of Scotch. Not one to deny himself anything, he withdrew a long fat cigar from a box on the bar and lit it with a wooden match; then he sat in a captain’s chair, which he had dragged to the center of the circle, and motioned for me to sit nearby. I chose instead to take a chair that put my back to the wall and gave me a view of several doors and the open stairway. I kept the gun in my hand and in my lap.
“And what do I call you?” he asked. Half the room between us.
“You can call me Quarry. It’s not my name, exactly, but it’ll do.”
“All right, Mr. Quarry. Perhaps you can explain why you’ve invaded my home-and, apparently, put my entire security staff out of commission.”
“Let me ask you something first. If someone, this afternoon, had told you that one man would enter your compound and put you in the position you’re in right now, what would you have said?”
“I would have found it impossible. Unbelievable.”
“Fine. Keep that in mind when you consider the story I’m about to tell.”
And I told Preston Freed, self-styled presidential candidate, the story. That I was a retired professional assassin who had been offered a million-dollar contract; that he was the target of said contract; that I had refused the contract; that an attempt on my life had subsequently been made. I did not mention the loss of my wife, my life at Paradise Lake. That was none of his fucking business.
Freed listened with rapt attention, eyebrows arching, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing, widening, as one might expect. But disbelief was something I did not sense. Perhaps in a way I was making a dream come true for him: his paranoia was finally being substantiated, even if the Soviets weren’t involved.
“Now,” I said, “it would seem to me we have some mutual interest in this matter. For my part, I’d like to respond in kind to those who tried to have me killed.”
“Understandable,” Freed said, nodding.
“And you, I would think, would like to identify those who are trying to have you killed.”
“Frankly,” he said, drawing on the thick cigar, “I’d like to do more than just identify them.”
“I thought you might. You need to consider exactly what this situation is: I turned the contract down. That made me a loose end-in a political assassination, involving a national figure, a presidential candidate, one does not leave loose ends. But that speaks only to my situation. What about yours?”
“Mine?”
“Someone else-someone like me-was approached with that million-dollar contract. Someone who accepted it.”
“Is this a conclusion you’ve drawn, or…?”
“It’s more. It’s direct knowledge. I understand you fear retaliation from what you describe as the ‘Drug Conspiracy’-the banks and the mob.”
“The Sicilian/Hebrew Connection,” he said, nodding.
“Spare me. But I will give you this much: somebody with mob connections who died recently gave me that information.”
The icy blue eyes narrowed to slits in the tanned face. “Victor Werner? You killed Victor Werner?”
“I didn’t say that. Did you know him?”
“I never met the man, but I knew of him.” Then, with contempt: “Knew of his ‘family’ ties. He told you of a second assassin?”
“Yes, Werner gave me a name. It’s a name I’m familiar with. Which is one reason why I think I can head this thing off.”
“Head it off?”
“I can stop the hit from going down. Because I know who it was that came to see me, the upstanding citizen who tried to hire me. And I know who he hired in my place.”
“I have to do something about this!”
“No kidding. Look, we can go about this a couple of ways. I can just tell you who these people are, and fade away. You have men on your staff; you might be able to deal with this in-house.”
I knew he wouldn’t want that; but saying this gave me leverage.
“What’s the other way?” he asked, sitting forward.
“I could handle it all. I can take out the other hitter. I can take out those who hired it done, as well.”
“There… there might be more than one person behind this?”
“The man who tried to hire me said he was representing a group of patriotic private citizens.”
He laughed mirthlessly at that. “And you said, this individual spoke of me as a ‘spoiler’-meaning this threat might have come from the right or the left?”
I nodded.
“If I… were to turn you loose on this, to handle it as you wish… what would be in it for you, besides a certain satisfaction?”
I shrugged. “Well, the revenge factor is going to work in your favor. That ‘certain satisfaction’ you mentioned is going to make a hell of a perk. So all I need is ten grand. And you don’t owe me anything unless I deliver.”
Those spooky blues studied me suspiciously. “You said you were offered a million dollars.”
“Ten grand for the assassin. Ten more for whoever hired him.”
“That’s still only twenty thousand dollars.”
“Feel free to tip.”
“Will they… look like accidents?”
“Not necessarily. No frills. Dead is dead.”
He blew out a stream of smoke and raised his eyebrows and considered the ceiling’s open beams. “You know the name of the man who came to see you,” he said.
“That’s right. I did some snooping today.”
“Are you a detective, or an assassin, Mr. Quarry?”
“Necessity has turned me into a little of both, Mr. Freed. Now do you want my help? Or do you want to handle this yourself, in which case I’ll have to ask a finder’s fee of five grand, if you want the names I know.”
He was thinking.
“Or,” I said, “I can just walk out of here, fade into the forest and out of your life. You can choose to not believe me. Or try to deal with this yourself, without the names.”