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26

'All units. One-eighteen Acre Street. All units. One-eighteen Acre Street.'

Paul Duncan heard the call on his police scanner. He was only a few blocks from the scene, but this was not his district. Far from it. He could certainly not answer the call. That would only draw attention and questions.

Questions like what was he doing here.

Pieces were starting to come together. Fred Nickler, the publisher of those sleazy rags, had called him earlier in the day. What he had told Paul explained a lot. Not everything. Not by a long shot. But he now understood Jessica's behavior the other night. She had learned about Kathy's picture.

Myron Bolitar must have told her.

But how had Myron gotten a copy of it?

Not important. Not really. What was important was that Myron Bolitar was involved. He could not be underestimated. Jessica was a big enough pain in the ass on her own. But now she had Myron on her side and probably that Win Lockwood, Myron's psychotic Tonto. Paul knew something about their past work for the feds. Not a lot. Myron and Win had answered only to top government officials. Their work was almost always classified. But Paul knew their reputations. That was enough.

A police car sped past Paul, sirens screaming. They were probably on their way to 118 Acre Street. Paul turned up his scanner. He wanted to hear every word that was said.

He debated calling Carol, but what could he tell her? She hadn't been specific on the phone, just telling him about the phone message from Nancy to Jessica. So what did Jessica know? How had she found out?

And what would Carol ultimately be pressured into saying?

Two ambulances flew by him. They too had their sirens on full blast. Paul swallowed. He wanted to pull over, but he wanted more to drive as far away as possible.

Once again Paul Duncan thought of his friend Adam Culver. Dead.

Murdered. With everything that had happened, there had been no time for Paul to mourn.

Yes, mourn.

That might sound strange - Paul Duncan mourning Adam Culver.

139

Especially if anyone knew how Adam had spent the last precious hours of his life.

Win and Myron dropped Esperanza off at the apartment she shared with her sister and cousin in the east part of Greenwich Village. Myron escorted her to the door.

'You okay?'

She nodded. Her face was deathly pale. She had not spoken a word since the shooting. 'Win-' She stopped, shook her head. It took her a full minute to pull herself together. 'He saved us. I guess that's what counts.'

'Yes.'

I'll see you in the morning.'

Myron returned to the car. He called Jessica. She wasn't home yet, but Myron did manage to wake her mother. They drove to a twenty-four-hour diner on Sixth Avenue - one of those Greek diners with a menu the approximate length of a Tolstoy novel. Win was a vegetarian. He ordered a salad and french fries. Myron ordered a Diet Coke. He couldn't eat.

After they were settled in, Myron asked, 'What happened with Chaz?'

Win was picking at a basket of stale bread. His face registered displeasure, but he settled on a small packet of Saltines. 'Mr Landreaux hurried straight from our esteemed offices to a building at 466 Fifth Avenue,' he began. 'He took the elevator to the eighth floor, which is rented by Roy O'Connor and TruPro Enterprises. When Landreaux entered the elevator, he had your contract tightly clutched in his paw. When he exited, the contract was no longer visible. He had no pockets that could hold such a document. Conclusion:

Mr Landreaux gave the contract to someone at TruPro Enterprises.'

'Your powers of deduction,' Myron said. 'In a word: uncanny.'

Win smiled. 'I assume you are feeling better.'

Myron shrugged.

'We are not the same, you and I,' Win added. 'You call it execution, what I did to that vermin. I call it extermination.'

'You didn't have to kill him.'

'I wanted to kill him,' Win said with flat inflection. 'And I doubt any of us will mourn his death for very long.'

True enough, but the argument did not ease Myron's mind. He wanted to drop the subject. 'Where did Chaz go after he left TruPro?'

Win took a dainty bite out of the corner of the Saltine. 'Before I get into that, I should point out that Mr Landreaux was escorted from the building by a large man who fit the description of your friend Aaron. Large.

Confident. Athletic. Suit with no shirt. Sunglasses, though the sun had already set.'

'Sounds like Aaron.'

'They split up on the street. Aaron got into a stretch limousine. Chaz Landreaux walked to the Omni Hotel.'

140

'Which Omni?' Myron asked. Manhattan had several.

'The one near Carnegie Hall. Landreaux met up with his mother in the lobby. Their reunion was rather moving. Mother and son embraced. Both were crying.'

'Hmm,' Myron said.

The waitress arrived with the food and drinks. She put them down, scratched her butt with a pencil, and returned to the kitchen.

'So where did they go after that?'

'Upstairs. They ordered room service.'

Myron thought a moment. 'What is Chaz's mother doing up from Philadelphia?'

'I would assume,' Win said, pulling a napkin out of the dispenser and spreading it on his lap, 'based on their mutual anguish, that Frank Ache reached Chaz Landreaux through a family member.'

'A kidnapping?'

Win shrugged. 'A possibility. Frank just sent two men to try to kill you. I highly doubt he is going to become squeamish over a ghetto abduction.'

Silence.

'We're wading in some deep doo-doo,' Myron said.

'Indeed. Too deep.'

Chaz had a big family. If Frank really wanted to hit him where he lived, he'd take one of his siblings. 'We'll settle it tomorrow,' Myron said. 'I scheduled a meeting with Herman Ache. Two o'clock. Usual place.'

'Should I attend?'

'Most definitely.'

Win ate his salad. 'You do know that this won't be easy.'

Myron nodded.

'Herman Ache does not like to intervene in his brother's business.'

'I know.'

Win put down his fork. 'If I may be so bold as to offer a suggestion.'

'I'm listening.'

Frank Ache sent two professionals after you. Their untimely deaths will not dissuade him from trying again.'

Uh-huh. So what's your suggestion?'

Cut your losses now. Make an exchange. You let them keep Landreaux.

They call off the contract on your head.'

'I can't do that.'

'You can. You choose not to.'

'Semantics.'

'You don't have to help him.'

I want to help him,' Myron answered.

Win sighed. 'A man must try to illuminate even those who prefer to sit in the darkness. Do you have a plan yet?'

I am still working on it.'