I wanted to buy some time. Obviously I could get it in less than an hour, but I didn’t want to rush into anything. “It will take a little time. Give me thirty-six hours.”
“That’s too long.”
“Look, do you want it or not? I’m willing to hand it over; you’ve just gotta give me enough time.”
Cross didn’t like the idea, but I could see he was going to play along. “Okay, Murphy. In thirty-six hours, that box better be sitting on the desk in your office. If you’re there, too, I’ll have you shot. Once we’ve got the box, I’ll try to forget we ever spoke.”
He seemed to be talking straight. It was as good an offer as I was going to get. Cross got up and walked around to where I was sitting. He leaned down until his face was no more than two inches from mine. His steely eyes burned into mine. “Listen to me, Murphy. This the only time you’ll hear me say this. After I get that box, I don’t want to see your face again. If I do, I’ll put a slug in your eyeball. I’m going to have people keep an tabs on you for awhile, to make sure you stay out of our way. If you ever hear mention of the NSA, I’d advise you to turn around and run. Is that clear?
I nodded. Something told me that I was getting the deal of a lifetime. Cross motioned to the two Feds behind me.
“Get this pisshead out of my office.”
The N S A thugs were courteous enough to draw me off the back at the Ritz. Unfortunately, they have literally drop me off while the speeder had been going about 40 kilometres an hour. I leant into the lobby and up to my office. I open the door and flicked on light. It was good to be home, but God, it was a mess. The NSA boys had been impressively destructive. The Office look like the scene of an oversize gain of 52, Pickup. I have a my coat and hat. I’d clean the place up later.
After poking around for a few minutes, I was relieved to find the wrapping paper from Malloy’s package haven’t been confiscated. They probably ignored it, since Malloy his name wasn’t written on it. Lucky for me, or else my little white lie when have worked on agent cross.
Lord, I was beat. Turn down the lights made my eyes feel better. I cranked up my old phonograph, and suddenly Nat King Cole was playing piano and the back of my office. I fell into the chair behind my desk and turned on my bank Islam. After fishing out a Lucky Strike and pouring myself a tall glass of bourbon, I turned my attention to the brown-paper wrapper. Someone knocked at the door.
I just got uncomfortable and heated to get up. Briefly, I considered Britain in the norm was here but Nat. I rub my eyes. It was probably somebody important. Limping across the paper littered room, I reached the door and opened it.
It was the woman, Ms Madsen, from the police station.
“Well, hello.”
“Good evening.” She nodded and waited. “May I come in?”
I was a bit shocked and reacted a little slowly. A stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. She moved toward my desk, leaving him to dark fragrance in her wake. I close the door without taking her eyes from her. She was exquisite. Above average height, or burn hair that just touched her shoulders. Slender waist, curvy through the hips, perfectly shaped ankles. She walked through the paper trail and sat down in one of my newly upholstered guest chairs.
“nice place. Decorate it yourself?”
“Sorry about the mess. The housekeeper just started taking Prozac.”
I slid into my chair and picked up my still burning cigarette from the ashtray. A motioned toward my smoke. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
“can I offer you one?”
“No. Thank you.”
I took a drag of the Lucky Strike and looked at her face. Her skin was flawless and very fair. Full, soft lips. Her large eyes were an unusual shade of hazel, close to Gordon Brown. There was a lot be read in those eyes. This when a strong, focused, determined. I decided to take an aggressive approach. “As suppose you came by to apologise for walking out to me at the police station.”
Her lips curved into a small, revealing perfect, white teeth. She cocked her head slightly. It was very appealing. “Why should I? Don’t most women treated that way when they first meet you?”
“Well, yeah. Usually. When they do show any interest, and generally too stunned to do anything about it.”
She gave me a sceptical, sideways glance. “I seriously doubt that.”
“It’s true.”
Ms Madsen raise my glass. “Is that bourbon?”
“it was certainly is. Would you like some?”
“I would.”
Finding a clean glass turned out to be more difficult than I’d figured. For a moment, I was afraid I have to resort to washing one. When I returned, Ms Madsen had taken off her coat and laid it across the other chair. A sleeveless grey dress exposed slender, toned arms. A return to my chair, poured a small glass of bourbon, and handed it to her. She swirled it around and lifted it in my direction.
“cheers.”
She drank half the bourbon and didn’t blink. I was impressed.
“So tell me, and his medicine, what brings you to my little den of iniquity?”
A look of seductive coyness flashed across the young woman’s face, replaced almost instantaneously by a more pleasant, polite expression. The signals coming from her were almost contradictory, as if her instinctive nature was assertive in sensual, but a conscious nature struggled at with cool detachment.
“Please call me Regan.”
“Okay. But then you have to call me Tex.”
She gave me a sideways look. “That’s not your real name. What is it?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“try me.”
“Sorry. I have to get to know some pretty thoroughly before a come clean on that one.”
“Well, then, maybe you should get in any pretty thoroughly.” he was the essential thing again. She took another sip of bourbon. Maybe I’ll have one of those Lucky strikes after all.” I took one out and handed it over. Instead of taking it from me the way people normally do, she put her hand over mine and then down to take a cigarette between her lips. Her handling of momentarily on my unsteady fingers. I lit a match and reached across the desk. Regan during, the end of the cigarette blazing. A focused on her long, slender fingers holding a cigarette as I leaned back and lit a smoke of my him. Regan leaned forward, folding her arms over her crossed legs. “D you have the box?”
The question may have been the last one was expecting. And looked her over and decided she was bluffing. “What box with that be?”
“You know what am talking about.”
“do not.”
Begin leaned back and smoked a cigarette the way only a woman can. Her clear eyes locked on to mine and wouldn’t let go. Eventually, she blinked first, it made me happy. She on crossed her legs and slid toward the front of her seat. The lower half of her face moved into the lamplight. Her lips were perfect.
“I like to play games, Tex. It makes things more interesting. I think you do, too.” her gaze drifted down to my mind. “Was your angle, Tex? Unwilling to bargain.”
She was good at this. She’d obviously bargained before. Unless I missed my guess, she was probably accustomed to getting what she wanted. Every damn time. Maybe a be the first man had ever said no to her. Maybe.
“I don’t have an angle, and his medicine. My business is my own. They don’t have a partner, and I don’t like small talk. You’re beautiful woman, but that doesn’t change anything as far as I’m concerned.”
She moved back, out for the like. It was a tactical retreat. The first assault had failed — time to fall back and regroup. And reached for another Lucky and lit it up. It tasted especially good.