Kim Oh 3: Real Dangerous People (The Kim Oh Thrillers) (22 page)

“What’re you talking about?”

“Just do it. This is serious – I’m not joking around about it.”

He regarded me for a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay –”

I had already dropped my hold on his arm and was scooting away from the spot.

What I figured was that it didn’t matter if he backed me up or not. In situations like these, you really can’t count on other people doing what you want them to do. But at least when it came down, if he didn’t go in on my side, he still might hesitate a second or two while his brain scurried through his options. And that might give me the time I needed.

I knew a faster way to the office than fighting my way through the crowd, the way that Elton and the other guys on the crew were doing. I ducked through the kitchen’s swinging doors, following one of the waiters carrying an emptied tray above his head. The kitchen staff didn’t even notice me as I shot past them – they were too busy loading up more trays with whatever that Polynesian fusion crap was, that they were foisting off on the crowd outside.

Just as I had figured, there was another door at the far end of the kitchen, that opened onto the corridor with the manager’s office. Peering around the door, I could hear Curt having another one of his typically persuasive discussions, this time with a couple more of Karsh’s security guys.

“We’re here to see Mr. Falcon.”

“He’s not here,” said one of them.

“The hell he’s not.”

The second security guy was about the size of one of the walk-in refrigerators in the kitchen I’d just sailed through. From behind, I saw him looming over Curt and the others.

“Look, pal. Maybe you’d better just –”

I could barely see past the security guys. But I was still able to watch as Curt reached into his own jacket, pulled out his gun, and clubbed the bulky security guy across the head with it. That was a fairly subtle move by the crew’s standards – but Curt probably just didn’t want to alert the people in the manager’s office by firing off a couple rounds.

Curt stepped over the big security guy – there was blood trickling from his ear – and backed the other one up against the wall, pressing his gun muzzle under the guy’s chin.

“You boys have already screwed up,” said Curt quietly. “Why make it worse?”

Foley patted them both down and found nothing.

“We’ll only be a few minutes.” Curt put away his gun. “And actually – we work for Mr. Falcon. So don’t get worried.”

I drew farther back behind the kitchen door, so I wouldn’t be spotted by Curt and the others as they headed for the manager’s office. When they pushed the door open and stepped inside, I slipped out and snuck down the hallway, back close to its wall. When I got to it, the office door was open just an inch, enough for me to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside.

Karsh and Falcon were both in there, as expected. Karsh was in one of his sleekly tailored suits, but somebody had convinced Falcon – maybe his wife – that it had been a good idea to put on a wildly colored Hawaiian print shirt. Both men brought their gaze from the papers spread on the manager’s desk, looking up at the three crew members standing in front of them.

“Curt –” Falcon smiled at him. “Good to see you. Sorry I didn’t leave your name on the guest list at the door. I really was hoping to see you here.” He looked at the others as Curt’s side. “All of you.”

“I bet,” said Curt.

“Yeah, well . . .” Falcon’s smile faded. “When I called up to Albany – up to Moretti’s place – and nobody answered, I started to figure you guys might be up to something. And then when my partner Karsh here sent one of his security guys up there and he found what somebody had done to poor old Moretti . . .” He slowly shook his head, feigning sadness. “You should’ve given him a break. He was only doing what I told him to.”

“Right.” Elton’s face set into a glower. “That’s kinda the problem.”

“You see?” Falcon looked over at Karsh. “You were right. This is the kind of people I’ve had to deal with. For all these years.”

“Not any more.” Karsh shook his head. “We’ve just started making other arrangements –”

The door at the end of the hallway opened, pushed by a waiter carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne and a couple of skinny glasses on it. Falcon and Karsh must’ve sent out to the restaurant bar for something to celebrate with.

I slipped past the office doorway. The two security thugs had vanished, probably figuring that this was a good time to reevaluate their career choice. The waiter was taken by surprise by my being there, but that allowed me to lift the tray from him. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take it from here.”

SIXTEEN

The atmosphere had turned even thicker in the manager’s office by the time I came in with the champagne. All of the men looked around at me. The only one who wasn’t surprised was Elton.

“Kim –” Falcon managed to speak after a moment. “I’m . . . so happy to see you.”

“I’m glad to be here.” I stepped past the crew guys and set the loaded tray on the desk. “It’s a happy occasion, isn’t it?”

“It . . . certainly is.” Falcon turned his head to one side, studying me more closely. “That’s kind of a . . . different look for you. Isn’t it?”

“Your wife picked it out for me.” I started untwisting the wire from the champagne’s cork. “It’s called a
cheongsam
. I think.” Actually, there had been a label on the dress, that I’d read when I took it out of the bag. But I’d had a general notion before then.

Curt looked over at me. “You look like
The World of Suzie Wong
in that thing.”

“Who’s she?”

“Before your time.”

“I thought that was a Chinese dress.” A puzzled expression had formed on Karsh’s face. “Saw a lot of them when I was opening up our Kowloon branch a couple of years ago.” He turned toward Falcon. “Didn’t you say she was . . .”

“Don’t worry about it.” I started twisting the cork from the champagne bottle’s neck. “As long as somebody’s got an Asian card, it’s allowed.”

“Well . . .” Karsh nodded in approval. “It’s certainly very becoming on you. Especially the little sleeves. And that – what’s it called? –
mandarin
collar. That’s it.”

Yeah, right. I knew damn well it wasn’t the little sleeves and the mandarin collar that had him going. It was the side slit going from the hem practically up to my hipbone. I’d had to yank the elastic band of my underwear up past my belly button and do an auto-wedgie on myself – figuring that a swath of plain white cotton Hanes for Her across my butt wouldn’t have done much to complete the exotic effect. I still wasn’t quite sure what Mrs. Falcon had thought an outfit like this had to do with Polynesia. Maybe those girls at the shop had told her it was a sarong. Who knew?

“Anyway, you’re right. It is a happy occasion.” Karsh picked up one of the glasses that I’d just poured. “Let’s all relax and enjoy ourselves. Because we are celebrating tonight. Nice new restaurant like this – what’s not to like? Plus . . .” He gestured toward the papers on the desk. “We’ve just signed the merger papers – your boss and me. The lawyers finished drawing them up today. That really makes us all one big happy family, doesn’t it?”

“Certainly does.” That was all I had to hear. I handed the other glass to Falcon. Then I turned my smile toward Curt and the crew. And especially to Elton. “Oh, wait a minute. I forgot something.” I walked back to where I had dropped my purse beside the door. “Something special.”

Let me tell you – those Chinese dresses are made for standing around looking decorative and not much else. Especially when’s it as short as the one Mrs. Falcon had got me. Stoop down in something like that, you really give your audience a shot. Everybody in the manager’s office probably still had their eyes locked on my ass, even a couple of seconds after I came up with the .357 in my hand.

Before any of them could react, I strode across the room with the gun held out before me and stuck its muzzle against the corner of Falcon’s brow.

“You sonuvabitch. You thought I was going to be dead by now, didn’t you?”

He couldn’t say anything. From the corner of his widened eyes, he stared at the gun’s shiny metal, as though hypnotized by it.

Like flipping a light switch, there was some action from the others in the room. Foley’s hand came out of his jacket with his gun. But before he could get off a shot at me, he heard a little metal click right behind his ear.

He was smart enough to freeze in place. Looking back from the corner of his eye, he saw Elton’s gun pressed against his head.

“Be cool,” said Elton.

“That’s right.” I looked over at Foley. “I kinda figured you wouldn’t miss a chance to get yourself back in good with your old boss. Even though you came in here with the rest of the crew to kick his ass.”

Foley didn’t say anything. He was starting to sweat, which is what people do when there’s a gun cocked against their skull.

I was sweating, too. With three guns up in the air, the chances of something bad happening was approaching a hundred percent.

Foley made the right call. He lowered the gun in his hand.

“Good thinking,” I said. “I’ve enjoyed working with you, but I’m not overly sentimental.”

Elton dropped his as well. That left just me.

Let me tell you something else. Things don’t get less tense when there’s only a single gun floating around, instead of three of them. Even if that one’s in your own hand. All sorts of bad stuff could still happen. Like those two security guys that Curt and the rest of the crew had bulldozed. They might’ve been heading back here, with reinforcements. Ugly, well-armed reinforcements. So whatever I needed to get done, I had to do it fast.

Before I could say anything more, though, Falcon spoke up.

“Kim –” His voice was hoarse, his brow luminous with sweat. “Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to say?” Curt spoke up. “You set her up to get killed. Just like you set us all up to get killed.”

“Whoa, whoa. Just a second there, Curt –” Falcon tried to inch away from the gun I was holding against his head. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Sure I do.”

“Actually . . .” Karsh set his champagne glass down on the corner of the desk. “He’s not lying to you. He wasn’t trying to get you gentlemen killed.”

“Really?” Curt’s expression simmered with anger. “Then why’d he hire Johnny Dodd to come after us? And make it look like Dodd was going after him instead?”

“You know . . . it’s good that you’ve been thinking about this.” Karsh smiled at him. “That shows initiative on your part. And that’s always a valuable thing, no matter what you’re doing. But there are some things of which you’re just not aware. Perhaps if you came from more of a modern, updated management perspective, you wouldn’t have missed the connections on this.”

I looked over at him. “You must be kidding.”

“Couldn’t be more serious, Miss Oh.” Karsh calmly took another sip of champagne – easy for him, since I wasn’t holding the gun against his head – then set it back down again. “Curt is right about there having been a decision made to eliminate certain individuals from the organization – especially now that the merger’s gone through. Times change. And a business’s staffing requirements change with them. Killing people in order to get rid of them is rather old school, I’d have to say. Even for a business like ours.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at me. “You worked for McIntyre, didn’t you? Nice fellow. Used to do a golf foursome with him every now and then.”

“Yes . . .” I nodded slowly. “I did . . .”

“Well, there you go. Perfect example. Look how much trouble he wound up in, doing things the old-fashioned way. He’s not in business anymore. He’s dead.”

I was starting to wonder how much Karsh knew about me. And about what Cole and I had done together.

“Listen to him –” Falcon’s voice had a squeak, desperate edge to it. Understandable given the circumstances. And the gun. “He’s telling the truth! I didn’t want Johnny Dodd to kill you guys!”

Curt’s gaze narrowed as he looked from one man to the other. “Then what was all that about?”

“Your boss didn’t need to have you
killed
.” Karsh smoothly continued. “He just had to make you look bad. Perceptions are very important in a modern organization such as ours. If we just got rid of you – pushed you out the door, as it were – there could be severe morale problems with the rest of our employees. Especially to the degree that people are aware of the years of service that you’ve given Mr. Falcon. It just looks bad. It makes us look
uncaring
. So there’s a need to establish that you were leaving the organization for a reason. Because you just couldn’t do your jobs anymore.”

The anger had disappeared from Curt’s expression. Now he just looked stunned. “Are you serious?”