Hank had to get all this straightened out, and the only guy he knew who could do that was Drexler.
But he wasn’t answering his phone. Hank had left half a dozen messages.
Only one thing to do. Go over there and get some face time, whether Drexler liked it or not.
Hank reached Allen Street and found it at a standstill. Something must have happened on the outward-bound Williamsburg Bridge around the corner. He’d planned on taking a cab but Drexler’s place wasn’t all that far away. He decided to walk.
10
“Hello, Mister Drexler.”
Ernst had just stepped into his dark and supposedly empty apartment. He fumbled with the grocery bag he was carrying, almost dropping it in shock at the sound of the voice.
The One would occasionally surprise him by suddenly appearing in his office or apartment. But this was not the One’s voice. Ernst almost wished it were. It would mean…
“Who are you?”
“An old acquaintance.”
Ernst felt for the wall switch, found and flipped it. The light revealed a nondescript man in his midthirties relaxing in a chair on the far side of the room. He looked like someone off the street: jeans, baseball cap, sweatshirt. He was clean shaven, with brown hair, brown eyes… and was that one of Ernst’s Grolsch lagers in his hand?
Something about his face ignited a spark of familiarity, but not bright enough for recognition.
“You look familiar…”
“Remember your little sojourn at the Lodge in Johnson, New Jersey?”
And then it all came crashing back.
“Jack.”
The man nodded. “Your former groundskeeper.”
Controlling his initial shock, Ernst walked across his front room and set the bag on the counter. As the answers to a number of long-running questions began to flash through his mind, he realized he might be in mortal danger.
Might be. Jack certainly had changed from the skinny teenager Ernst had known. He’d filled out but remained wiry instead of bulky. He didn’t look the least bit threatening. In fact, he appeared perfectly innocuous.
But if what Ernst suspected were true, he was anything but. Hard to believe, looking at him now, but no one knew better than Ernst how appearances could deceive.
Talk… get him talking.
“How did you get in here?”
“The door.”
“And how did you reach the door?”
“The stairs.”
Ernst clenched his jaw. The building was supposed to have excellent security. He’d have to have a talk with the management.
“I have armed guards from the Order who routinely…”
Jack was shaking his head. “No, you don’t. Weeks ago I followed you from the Lodge and I’ve been watching this place on and off since. You don’t have any extra security. And why should you? No one outside the Order knows who you are.”
True. He had no enemies. Except perhaps the man seated before him.
Stay cool and keep him talking.
“Rather ironic, don’t you think, that while you’ve been stalking me, I’ve been looking for you?”
“I assumed that,” Jack said.
“Am I so predictable?”
“After you learned that Weezy Myers was Weezy Connell of Johnson, En-Jay, and her brother Eddie was a member of the Order, I figured it wouldn’t take you long to start wondering what had happened to the third musketeer.”
“Yes, it was idle at first. Then I learned that you had seemingly dropped off the face of the Earth.”
“Still on Earth, just off the radar.”
“But now you’re here. Any particular reason?”
“A little conversation.”
“Nothing else?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how the conversation goes.”
That had just enough of an ominous ring to bunch the muscles at the back of Ernst’s neck.
“Will we be a while?”
“Depends.”
Ernst didn’t ask again on what. Instead he pointed to the green bottle in Jack’s hand.
“I could use one of those. Shall I get you another?”
“Thanks. I’ll come with you.”
He realized it had been too much to hope for Jack to leave him alone in the kitchen, but it had been worth a try.
“I need to put some food away as well.”
A few months ago he’d found a wonderful German butcher, a man who made superb bratwurst. Brats had always been a comfort food for him, but over the years he had avoided too many of them for health reasons. After yesterday he didn’t see much point in worrying about his health, and he was in desperate need of comfort.
Jack hovered as he placed the perishables in the refrigerator, and Ernst thought about that term.
Perishable… we’re all perishable, but am I about to perish?
He removed a pair of bottles.
“Hope you don’t mind that I helped myself,” Jack said. “Not too many people stock Grolsch. Hard to resist.”
Keep him talking…
“Yes, the Dutch make excellent lagers, but not quite up to my favorite-Marzen.”
He found an opener and popped the caps. He handed a bottle to Jack and grabbed a Pilsner glass for himself-he didn’t drink from bottles. They returned to the front room where Ernst made a show of searching for coasters. He knew exactly where they were but opened two wrong drawers first. He pulled a Taser from the second and palmed it, thumbing the ON switch before quickly slipping it into his suit coat pocket as he pretended to discover the coasters in the third.
Now he felt a little safer. He had no idea how this might turn out, but at least he could protect himself.
He handed Jack a coaster and they settled into upholstered chairs, facing across a glass-top table.
“If I may ask,” he said, keeping his tone light, “how did you, as you phrase it, drop off the radar so completely? After a cursory search found no trace of you, I put some very skilled people to work looking for you. They came up with nothing.”
He shrugged. “I was never on the radar. Never bothered applying for a Social Security number, always worked for cash.” A quick smile. “You always paid me cash, remember?”
Ernst nodded. He remembered. Petty cash.
“A long time ago.” Half a lifetime.
“Why were you so intent on finding me?”
“You were a blank space that needed filling in. A mystery man. Brother Connell said you were a repairman, but I began to wonder if you might be related to another mystery man.”
“Really? And who might that be?”
How did he phrase this? Should he choose his words carefully? Why? Jack’s appearance here pretty much confirmed his suspicions, although he still found it hard to believe.
Might as well simply come out and say it.
“Someone involved with the Connells was using deadly force against the Order.”
Not a trace of surprise in Jack’s eyes as he said, “Now why would anyone do that? I mean, considering the caliber of people you sent against them.”
Ernst felt his saliva began to evaporate. Jack had just admitted to being that man. One thing to suspect, but to have it confirmed in such a matter-of-fact tone…
The skinny, innocent kid who had mowed the Lodge’s lawn had grown into a cold-blooded killer. Granted, he had been facing equally cold-blooded killers, but he had proved just as ruthless and much more efficient.
Ernst was trapped here with a very, very dangerous man. Was he armed? Of course he was.
Keep him talking.
He forced calm and shook his head. No need to fake bafflement. “How did that boy pulling the lawn mower behind his bike wind up…?” He shook his head again.
“Necessity.”
“What could-?”
He held up a hand. “I didn’t come here to tell my life story.”
“Then why did you come?”
“I’ve got a question, and you’ve got the answer. At least I’m assuming you do.”
Only “a” question? That was a relief. But what would happen if he couldn’t answer it?
“You seem awfully sure of that. Let’s see if you’re right. Go ahead: Ask.”