“Fred Wilson,” Nick said.
“That’s it,” Gasper exclaimed. “Well, he makes an unusually large play on the Cowboys a few weeks back. He was bragging about some shady blasting-cap deal he’d made with some foreigners. I’m guessing these are the type that could be used to blow up houses, if you get my drift. Anyway, a friend of his tells me that he suspected something fishy and warned Fred not to make the deal, but the money blinds Fred to the danger and he goes and does it anyway. So one day this friend is in the parking lot of Fred’s business when this one particular Arab-type walks out the front door in a hurry. This guy don’t like the way the Arab is acting, so he waits in his car until he’s gone before he goes in and finds the mess that he was afraid he’d find.”
“He’s the one who found Fred?”
Gasper nodded. “Headless. Like that horseman guy.”
Nick rubbed his temple. “And how does this help me?”
Gasper flashed a knowing smile. “Because he recognized the Arab. This guy is an aluminum siding salesman and he drove up to the Arab’s cabin once to try to sell him some siding. He remembers that the Arab chased him away. Very rudely, I might add.”
Now Nick was interested. Since Rashid Baser killed Fred Wilson, he had to be the Arab this guy was speaking of. There’s no question Rashid would have been staying at the headquarters before he took a revenge bullet from one of Sal’s crew. “So he knows where the Arab lives?”
“Yeah.”
“And this is the same guy who killed Fred?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s his name?”
Gasper spread his arms with his palms up. “See, I’m not real good with names. Faces and numbers are really my strong suit.”
“You don’t know his name?” Nick asked.
“I think it was something religious, like Moses, or Peter, or Paul.”
“Paul? Religious?”
“What, you don’t know the Apostles?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Gasper. All this and no name?”
“Well, I can tell you where he hangs out.”
“Where?”
“The Winchester. A bar over on Main Street. He’s some kind of a pool shark. I do a lot of business down there.”
Nick went to the door and called Jennifer Steele into the office, then closed the door behind her. She wore a borrowed FBI windbreaker and had on her black baseball cap minus the ponytail. If she were bald and wore a lavender sports jacket, it wouldn’t have detracted from her looks.
Gasper jumped to his feet and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Gasper Continelli.”
Steele had one eye on Nick whiled she exchanged pleasantries with the character.
“He’s a big fan of the police,” Nick deadpanned.
“What’s up?” she asked, shaking off Gasper’s groping handshake.
“Are you familiar with a place called the Winchester?” Nick asked.
“Sure.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Yes.”
“Are you familiar with anyone who might be hustling pool down there?”
“Well, hustling might be a strong word considering the amount of money—”
Nick held up his hand. “No, you misunderstand me. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just looking for a name. Anyone in particular you might remember shooting pool and,” Nick chose his words carefully, “winning fairly often?”
Steele looked down in deep thought. Gasper dropped back down into his chair and waited for her to come up with someone.
Finally, Steele looked up at Nick. “The only person in this town that could even be considered a pool shark is a guy by the name of Angel.”
Gasper snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Angel. I knew it was religious. I’m good at association.”
“And numbers and faces,” Nick quipped. “What’s his last name?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not even sure Angel is his real name. Nicknames are real common up here.”
“She’s right about that,” Gasper chimed agreeably. “Something about small towns and nicknames. I never quite understood it.”
“Great.” Nick looked down at his watch. Less than two hours to go and he was discussing nicknames with a bookie whose major concern in life was having to attend a driver’s education class.
“Tell you what,” Gasper said. “It’s a little early, but there’s a chance he’s down at the Winchester shooting pool right now. I’ll go down there and check it out. If he’s there, I’ll bring him to you.”
Nick couldn’t afford to augment his band of mercenaries any more than he already had. He looked at Steele. “You know what he looks like?”
She nodded.
Nick walked around the desk and offered Gasper his hand. The bottom-heavy man lifted himself from his seat and vigorously shook Nick’s hand. “Thanks for the offer,” Nick said, “but we can take it from here.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” Gasper smiled. “That’s all you need?”
“That’s plenty,” Nick said.
“Give Tommy my regards.”
Nick clasped his free hand over their handshake in a sign of respect. “I’ll take care of the speeding ticket.” He paused and eyed Gasper intently. “You did your country proud on this one. You know that.” Nick struck the proper chord to send the man off with a smile on his face.
Once Gasper was gone, he looked at Steele and Silk. “I want both of you to head down to the Winchester and find this Angel character. I don’t care what it takes, find him.”
Steele looked at Silk. “No offense, but I don’t need an escort.”
“None taken,” Silk said.
“I want Silk with you,” Nick said. “In case Angel isn’t there and no one wants to cooperate with an FBI agent.”
Steele’s eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”
Nick spoke deliberately, trying to reason out his response with the slower tempo. “I’m simply suggesting that Silk can do certain things that go beyond the scope of your capabilities.”
She frowned. “You mean things like intimidation and brute force?”
Silk stood silently, allowing Nick to do all the work for him.
“Yes, I mean intimidation, brute force and animal husbandry if it’s called for. If this guy knows where the KSF headquarters is, then he’s our best chance to save the White House, and maybe even our country.”
Steele looked as if she was ready to walk out, but didn’t want to be insubordinate. “Don’t you think this is going over the line?”
“Probably,” Nick said. “The line’s getting blurrier and blurrier all the time. But I don’t have time to debate protocol with you, Agent Steele. If you don’t want to go, tell me, and I’ll send someone else.”
Steele looked over at Silk who appeared to be suppressing a grin. “Are you at least going to give me a chance to do this legally?” she asked him.
Silk looked offended. “Of course. What do I look like, a monster?”
She looked back at Nick and seemed ready to agree, when Nick said, “Whatever Silk needs to do, he does. No questions asked.”
“And he receives a get-out-of-jail-free card?” she asked.
Nick walked behind Skrugs’ desk, sat down, and placed his hands flat on the desktop. “Look,” he said, “you saved my partner’s life. I owe you. Please work with me here. We’re dealing with someone who will kill woman and children just for something to do. He tried to kill my wife. I need you to give me some room to maneuver.”
Steele’s look softened. She nodded.
Nick didn’t say any more. He’d taken on more responsibility than he could handle and it didn’t hold up to the scrutiny of a fellow FBI agent. It seemed the faster he acted, the more palatable his commands became.
Steele left with Silk trailing her. He was on his toes. A lion on the prowl. Nick wondered exactly what he had just unleashed. He looked up at the cable dangling from the ceiling. “Fuck you, Kharrazi,” Nick spat. “Fuck you and everything I’ve become to get you.”