“I know Laphroaig and a good cigar,” said Milton. “Or isn’t that what you meant?”
“Not quite.”
“We lost contact with him many years ago. He was never on our Christmas card list to begin with. I found him distasteful. I shed no tears when he fell from grace.”
“But you used him.”
“Once or twice, and always through you. I learned to hold my breath, and I washed my hands afterward. As I understand it, you and your ‘friend’ contrived to put an end to his career.”
“We were moderately successful,” said Gabriel.
“Moderately. You should have used more explosive.”
“We only wanted him dead, not half the people who might have been standing nearby when it happened.”
“In some circles, such humanity might be taken as a sign of weakness.”
“Which is why I have devoted such time and energy to reducing the size of those circles. As, I think, have you.”
Milton inclined his head in modest agreement.
“Nevertheless, there are indications that Bliss may be back on the radar.”
“Really?” For the first time, Milton looked directly at Gabriel. “I wonder why.”
Gabriel had learned to read faces and tones of voice, to balance words spoken against gestures made, to pick up on the slightest of inflections that might give the lie to what was being said. As he listened to Milton speak, he felt certain that he had not been told all that the other man knew of what was taking place.
“Perhaps if you heard anything more, you might be inclined to give me a call.”
“Perhaps,” said Milton.
Gabriel reached out his hand. Milton took it and, as they shook, Gabriel neatly slid a piece of paper beneath the cuff of Milton’s shirt.
“A small token of gratitude,” said Gabriel. “A container that you might be ill-advised to allow to leave the yard in question.”
Milton nodded his thanks. “When you see the lost sheep, pass on my regards.”
“I’ll be sure to do that. I know he thinks fondly of you.”
Milton grimaced. “You know,” he said, “I don’t find that very comforting at all.”
Gabriel contacted Louis later that evening, again through their respective answering services. They spoke for only a few minutes in a cab taking Gabriel to the Performance Space on Broadway. The driver was absorbed in a lengthy and animated telephone conversation being conducted entirely in Urdu. Gabriel had amused himself earlier in the journey by attempting to follow what was being said.
“I had a call,” said Gabriel. “It came from a gentleman who works for Nicholas Hoyle.”
“Hoyle? The millionaire?”
“Millionaire, recluse, whatever.”
“And what did he say?”
“It appears that Mr. Hoyle would like to meet you. He says he has information that could be useful to you, information concerning the events of recent days.”
“Neutral territory?”
Gabriel shifted in his seat. “No. Hoyle never leaves his penthouse. He is, by all accounts, a most peculiar man. You’ll have to go to him.”
“That’s not the way things are done,” said Louis.
“He approached you through me. That is the way things are done. He would be aware of any consequences that might arise should he fail to observe the usual niceties.”
“He could have sent those men to draw me out.”
“If he was intent upon that, he could simply have hired better help and finished the job there and then. Anyway, he has no reason to move against you, or none of which I am aware, unless you have angered him in the course of some of your recent activities.”
He arched a questioning eyebrow at Louis.
“Doesn’t ring any bells,” said Louis.
“Then again,” said Gabriel, “I can’t imagine that you and your friend from Maine leave many loose ends. Cancer offers a better survival rate than crossing you. Given that, I imagine Hoyle has some mutually beneficial arrangement in mind. The choice is yours, though. I am merely passing on the message.”
“In my position, what would you do?”
“I would speak to him. So far, we’re no closer to finding out anything about the men involved or who was behind them.”
Gabriel darted a look at Louis. The lie had passed him by. That was good. Gabriel would wait to hear from Louis what Hoyle had to say. In the meantime, he had begun to make inquiries about Arthur Leehagen. He was not yet ready to share with Louis what Milton had told him. In everything that he did, Gabriel protected himself first and foremost. Despite any affection he might have retained for Louis, he would feed him to wild dogs before he put himself at risk.
“So they were amateurs, but their boss isn’t? Still makes no sense, unless we’re back to the possibility that someone wants to draw me into the open.”
“You’re not as hard to find as you might like to believe, as recent events have proved. We’re missing something here, and Hoyle may be the one to enlighten us. He doesn’t issue invitations to his abode every day. Under other circumstances, it might be considered quite an honor.”
Louis watched the city flash by the window. Everything-the cab, the people, the lights-seemed to be moving too fast. Louis was a man who liked to be in control, but that control was being ceded to others: Gabriel, his unseen contacts, and now Nicholas Hoyle.
“All right, make the arrangements.”
“I will. You’ll have to go unarmed. Hoyle doesn’t allow weapons inside the penthouse.”
“Gets better and better.”
“I’m sure that you can handle anything that may arise. Incidentally, I raised the federal matter with some potentially interested parties. I believe it will be dealt with to your satisfaction.”
“And who might those interested parties be?”
“Oh, you know better than to ask that. Now, if you’d just let me out here, I’ll be on my way. And please pay the cab driver. It’s the least that you can do for me after all that I’ve done for you.”
Bliss drove north, an anonymous figure on an anonymous highway, just another pair of headlights burning whitely in the dark. Soon he would leave the road and find a place to rest for the night. Rest, not sleep. He had not slept properly in many years, and he lived in constant pain. He desired peaceful oblivion more than almost anything else on earth, but he had learned to survive on a few hours of slumber brought on by the exhaustion that eventually overcame his residual agonies. The treatment of his injuries, and his efforts to stay ahead of his pursuers, had depleted him not only physically, but financially, too. He had been forced to resurface, but he had chosen his paymaster carefully. In Leehagen, he had found someone who could satisfy both his financial and his personal needs.
The bottle containing Billy Boy’s blood lay in a padded box at the bottom of Bliss’s small suitcase. Leehagen had wanted him killed on his land, but Bliss had refused. It was too dangerous. But as the knife left his hand, and he saw the look of understanding on Billy Boy’s face before he died, Bliss knew that his gifts were still intact. It gave him confidence for what was to come.
That night, as he lay on his bed in a modest, clean motel room, humming softly to himself, he thought of Louis with the ardor of a lover journeying to meet his betrothed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE HEADQUARTERS OF HOYLE Enterprises stood a few blocks from the UN, so the surrounding streets were a Babel of diplomatic plates, creating uneasy relationships between bitter international enemies now forced to share valuable parking space. Hoyle’s building was unremarkable: it was older and smaller than most of the adjacent towers and stood at the eastern extreme of a public area that extended partially into the vicinity of the neighboring blocks to the north, south, and west, creating a natural boundary between Hoyle and the edifices around him.
In the twenty-four hours since the meeting with Gabriel, Louis and Angel had sourced the blueprints for Hoyle’s building, and Angel, aided by a bored Willie Brew and a slightly less bored Arno, had watched it for an entire day. It was a precaution, an effort to establish some sense of the rhythms of the building, of how deliveries were dealt with, of shift changes and lunch breaks among the security guards. It wasn’t long enough to form any accurate determination of the risks involved in entering, but it was better than nothing.