“Fantastic,” Eric said, and though this suggestion of Anne McKinney’s was a small thing, it felt bigger, because it gave him some kind of action to take. Because it gave him some sense—or some illusion, maybe—of control.
“You might not have the need for it, running on ghost-water the way you are, but I could stand to get a meal,” Kellen said.
“Actually, I need to eat. Haven’t had a damn thing all day. But do you care if I run up to get the bottle from this woman first? I’d like to have it.”
“Nah, man, I’ll drive.”
Eric called Anne McKinney back, thanked her for the offer, and said they’d be by to pick the bottle up. She told him that was fine, but she sounded different than she had that afternoon. Less spark. Tired.
The sun was low and obscured by the hills west of the hotel as they came outside and walked to the parking lot. There was a blue minivan beside Kellen’s Porsche. Eric didn’t pay it any mind until the driver’s door opened and a man in a sweat-stained polo shirt stepped out and said, “Slow down, Mr. Shaw. I’d like to have a word.”
The driver was a short but well-muscled guy of about forty, bald except for razor-thin sidewalls of dark hair above his ears. He stood ramrod straight and with his shoulders back, a military bearing. Cold blue eyes, a BlackBerry in a leather case clipped onto his belt.
“Should I know who you are?” Eric said, coming to a stop as Kellen walked on to his Porsche and leaned against the hood, watching them, curious. He had his sunglasses on, and when the stranger glanced in his direction, Eric could see his reflection on the golden lenses.
“Mr. Cage,” the guy said, nodding.
“Wow,” Kellen said, “he knows everybody.”
“Just need to take a minute of your time if I could.”
“Then you better tell us who you are,” Eric said.
The bald man took out a business card and passed it to Eric. Gavin Murray, Corporate Crisis Solutions, it said. Three phone numbers and a Chicago street address.
“I don’t have a corporation,” Eric said, “or a crisis.”
He moved toward Kellen’s car and when he did, Gavin Murray held up a hand, palm out, and said, “You may be headed toward a crisis, though, and I’d like to help you avert that. We should have a quick talk about what you’re doing for Alyssa Bradford.”
Eric stopped short and looked back at him, got a cool stare in response. Kellen slid his sunglasses off and clipped them to the neck of his shirt and looked at Eric with raised eyebrows.
“Like I said, he knows everybody.”
“I do, Mr. Cage. I’m awfully quick when it comes to getting to know people. Congratulations on your brother’s success, by the way. Hell of a ballplayer. And your father-in-law, Mr. Shaw, why, he’s sold a lot of books, hasn’t he? Oh, I know you’re separated from Claire, but until the divorce is final, he’s still your father-in-law.”
He gave them an empty smile. “Now, how about that talk?”
“All right,” Eric said, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck, the headache seeming to be lodged there now, driven toward his spine. “Let’s hear it.”
“Good. But much as I’ve enjoyed meeting Mr. Cage, this is a private discussion. So if he’ll wait for you for a few minutes, let’s take a walk down there to the gardens.”
Eric hesitated, but Kellen said, “Go on, man. This boy’s got a pretty clear plan. Hate to get in his way.”
“Appreciate that,” Gavin Murray said, and then he turned and walked away from the cars, leaving Eric to follow.
25
I WASN’T PLANNING ON grabbing you in the parking lot like that,” Gavin Murray said as they walked away from Kellen. “Was going to go into the hotel and ask them to send you down, but before I had a chance, you walked out. Figured now was as good a time as later.”
Eric said, “I’m guessing Alyssa didn’t send you.”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“I can’t answer that question,” Murray said. “I’m in a confidential business.”
“And what business is that?”
“CCS is an investigations and solutions firm. Think of us as troubleshooters.”
“Traveled all the way down here from Chicago instead of making a phone call. This must be some trouble you’re shooting.”
“We like to conduct business in person. The discussion I need to have with you is important, and it’s actually to your benefit.”
“Is that your opinion or your client’s?”
“Both, in this case.”
Eric was silent. They were walking into the gardens now, toward the fountain.
“I understand that you’re down here working on a video history,” Murray said. “Sounds like an interesting line of work. Must be fun. But this isn’t the project for you.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I think that could stand some clarification. Like who sent you.”
“I’m really not at liberty to disclose that. I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure,” Eric said. “You’re doing your job. Respecting your client’s wishes, fulfilling their requests.”
“Exactly.”
Eric stopped walking. They were beside the fountain now, and a strong wind pushed fine drops of spray across his skin.
“Well, that’s what I’m doing, too,” he said. “And it’s what I’ll keep doing, Gavin, old buddy. I’ve been paid, and I’ll complete the job.”
Gavin Murray didn’t look up at him. He took a pack of American Spirits from his pocket and pulled one out, pausing to offer the pack to Eric, then sliding them back in his pocket when Eric shook his head. He lit the cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled smoke through his nose, gazing back up at the hotel.
“How much is she paying you?”
“That’s both irrelevant and none of your business.”
“I’ve been authorized to give you fifty thousand dollars to cease the endeavor.”
“Hell,” Eric said, “that’s less than I’m making on it.”
A lie, of course, but he was curious just how much this was worth to whoever was at the other end of Gavin Murray’s puppet strings. Fifty grand was a hell of a starting point, one that put a prickle in his spine.
Murray smiled around his cigarette. “A negotiator. Well played. I can go as high as seventy-five while we stand here. You can ask for more than that, but you probably won’t get it, and you know seventy-five is more than you could hope for.”
“I’m not going to ask for more than that, and I don’t hope for any of it. Go on home, Gavin. Sorry you wasted the trip.”
“Give the self-righteous thing a rest, Shaw. I’m surprised at this. You were in the movie business for long enough that you should know how rare a sure-money offer is, and how fast they can go away.”
“They go away fast,” Eric agreed. “But you know what never does? Cocksuckers who try to use money as muscle. There seems to be an inexhaustible supply. Shit, L.A. alone has more than I ever cared to meet. But I met a lot of them, enough to get awfully tired of the act. So go on and call your client, tell him to roll his seventy-five or a hundred or two hundred grand up nice and tight and put it right up his ass.”
He started away but Murray followed, saying, “You’re too smart for this. You know how business works at this level. Money’s a first attempt, and other leverage is found if it’s needed.”
Eric stopped walking and turned to face him. “What does that mean?”