“A deal?”

“Yeah. Actually, I’m willing to make a deal for your life. How’s that sound?”

“I…yes, I might be willing to make a deal with you.”

“You might be willing? I’d like a little more assurance than that, Mr. Josephson.”

“What is it you suggest?”

“That’s better.” Pawkins took the couch again. “Tell you what. I’d hate to see you not have the sort of retirement you’ve been looking forward to. I think when a man works hard his whole life he deserves to spend his so-called golden years in comfort, free from worry. So, here’s what I’m offering. In return for me taking those silly papers you have and burning them-and in return for you promising me that you’ll do the same with any copies you might have-I’m willing to pay you a princely sum. How’s that sound?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s-”

“Hey, Josephson, I’m the one with the gun. Let’s not forget that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Neither man said anything for a moment. Josephson broke the awkward silence. “How much?”

“Good. Now we’re down to the nitty-gritty. I like that. How’s fifty thousand sound to you?”

“Fifty thousand dollars?”

“Uh-huh.”

“In American currency? The exchange rate and-”

“Right, right. Okay. I’m not an unreasonable man. A hundred thousand American. But that’s my final offer.”

Another silence.

“A problem?” Pawkins asked.

“No, it’s just that-well, there will be taxes and-”

“You want it off the books, under the counter, cash in paper bags, huh? I can arrange that.”

Pawkins watched as Josephson trembled and wrapped his arms about himself, tears streaming down his face.

“We have a deal?” Pawkins asked.

“Yes.”

“Great. That deserves a drink to celebrate. I’ll do the honors this time.”

He made two drinks at the mini-bar and handed one to Josephson. “Here’s to reasonable men resolving an issue the gentlemanly way.” He lifted his glass in his left hand; his right still held the.22. Josephson touched the rim of his glass to Pawkins’.

“Now,” Pawkins said, “I really must be going. You write down your address for me, and I’ll see to it that a hundred large is delivered to you by hand. Put the papers back in the envelope and give them to me.”

Josephson obeyed.

“Gracias, señor,” Pawkins said. “You can rest assured that the money will be delivered to you, just as I’ve promised. It will take me a week or so to arrange for a transfer of funds, but you needn’t lose any sleep over it. It’ll be there.”

“I trust you,” Josephson said. He was calmer now; the shaking had stopped, and he actually managed a smile.

“And I trust you,” Pawkins said, again making sure Josephson saw the weapon in his hand. “But we had a president once named Reagan who believed in trusting but verifying, too. I’ll be verifying, Mr. Josephson, and if you were to decide to try this again, or go to the authorities, your retirement will be short-lived. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“My advice to you is to get on the first plane back to jolly old England and wait for your pension to arrive. Agreed?”

“Of course.”

As Pawkins holstered his weapon and walked to the door, Josephson said, “I don’t wish to be bold in the face of such a generous settlement, Mr. Pawkins, but might I ask how much the Mozart-Haydn scores fetched on the open market?”

Pawkins frowned. “You have it right here in your reports.”

“Oh, I know. Mr. Saibrón paid you a half a million dollars for them. I suppose what I’m asking is how much of that you’ve managed to save.”

Pawkins grinned. “Let’s just say I can afford a partner like you, Marc. You don’t mind if I call you Marc, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Now I have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“What did you tell Mackensie and Annabel Smith about this?”

Josephson explained, haltingly, how he’d tried to enlist Mac Smith to negotiate a deal with Pawkins.

“And you showed them these papers?”

“Yes, but-”

“Don’t sweat it, Marc. I’m just pleased to know it. Nothing I can’t handle. Safe trip home, and enjoy your retirement. Do some fishing, read some good books. You like opera?”

“Very much.”

“So do I.”

The door closed behind him.

Back home, Pawkins rewound what had transpired.

Dillinger had been right. A gun and kindness got you further than a gun alone.

Of course, there had been plenty of kindness on his part, too. He’d committed a hundred grand to the little weasel. But that was okay. He had $350,000 left from Saibrón’s money, enough to fund his own idyllic retirement, along with Social Security and his MPD pension, which was pretty generous. Just as long as he didn’t have to lay out any more.

There was one problem left, however.

Mac and Annabel Smith.

“Hello?”

“Mac. It’s Marc Josephson.”

“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again,” Smith said from his study in the Watergate apartment.

“I understand why you would assume that,” Josephson said. “I’m terribly sorry for my behavior this morning. I was upset and-”

“No apologies necessary,” Smith said.

“At any rate, Mac, I’m about to leave for the airport and a flight home. I just wanted you to know that the matter we discussed has been settled.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and quite to my satisfaction.”

“I’m happy to hear that, but there is the matter of the murder of Dr. Musinski. I’m not sure that’s been settled.”

“Oh, it has, I assure you. Please, put the entire matter out of your mind. Much ado about nothing, as the Bard said. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing you and the lovely Mrs. Smith again, and I thank you for a splendid dinner and drinks afterward. I will be in touch. Do I owe you anything for your counsel?”

“Of course not.”

Except a better explanation, Mac thought.

“Well, then, cheerio, Mac. Until next time.”

THIRTY-FOUR

That night’s technical rehearsal at the Kennedy Center went well, with only minor lighting and sound miscues. The director, Anthony Zambrano, and his assistants functioned like a well-oiled machine. Even the two people recruited at the last minute by Genevieve Crier to replace Charise Lee and Christopher Warren as supers melded smoothly with the others. Mac Smith was helpful to them and took a certain pride at being an old hand at this supernumerary business.

But while Mac concentrated on where he was supposed to be, and what he was supposed to do under Zambrano’s watchful eye, his attention seldom strayed from Ray Pawkins. Nor did Annabel’s. She sat in the mostly empty theater with Genevieve and a few others from the Washington National Opera. At times, she sensed that Pawkins paid unusual attention to her, too, although she rationalized that her mind-set might be making her paranoid. Knowing something about someone, while they don’t know you know it, is always somehow absorbing.

Mac had filled her in on Josephson’s call and the message he’d delivered, that “the matter” had been settled to his “satisfaction.”

What does that mean? they’d conjectured over a fast dinner before the rehearsal.

“Do you think Ray paid him off?” Annabel asked.

“Could be, Annie. From the brief exposure we had with Josephson, it was obvious that money was what mattered most to him. The possibility that Ray murdered Musinski didn’t seem to be important. I encouraged him to go to the authorities, but he obviously decided not to.”

“Which leaves us in a quandary, Mac.”

They were about to explore that subject when old friends on their way out of the restaurant joined them at their table and talked until it was time to leave for the rehearsal.

Now, as Zambrano called it “a wrap” and everyone scattered, Mac ended up in the supers’ dressing room with Pawkins.