Three Fates (58 page)

“And now,” he said, while the waiter moved in silently to top off their wineglasses, “it seems you’re in a similar fix. Tough to make a public complaint about losing what should never have been in your possession in the first place.”

“You couldn’t have gotten in, not to Morningside or my house, without help.”

“Puzzle that one out,” he said, “and you’ll know I’m not without friends. By the way, Cleo sends her regards. Her very low regards. Just think, if you’d paid her price, made a legitimate deal at that point, our positions might be reversed now.”

He leaned closer, and all his fake humor was gone. “The man you had killed, Michael Hicks was his name, and his friends called him Mikey. She grieves for him. You’re fortunate, Anita, that I can convince her to deal with you now.”

Anita nudged her appetizer aside, picked up her wine. “My employee, former employee, was under instructions to extract information. He got carried away. It’s hard to get competent help in some areas.”

“And did you get carried away when you put the bullets into your former employee?”

“No.” She watched him over the sparkling edge of the crystal flute. “I pulled the trigger with a steady, easy hand. You’d be wise to remember that, and to understand how I deal with people who disappoint me.”

She picked up the attaché case, slid the photos in as the waiter returned with the salad course. “May I keep this?”

“Of course. I’ll tell you what I understand. You don’t consider two lives too high a price to pay for what you want. I’m sure you won’t find the price I ask out of your reach either.”

“And that would be?”

“Ten million, cash.”

Anita gave a sour laugh, even as her pulse jumped. So little, she thought. The man was a complete fool. At auction she could command double that. More, considerably more, with the right publicity.

“Do you actually think I’m going to pay you ten million dollars?”

“I do, yes. Three for each lady and one for good measure. So you see the price Cleo asked for Lachesis before you had her friend beaten to death was a rare bargain that won’t come ’round again. Oh, and here’s the topper.” Malachi broke apart a roll. “He knew, Mikey did, where the Fate was being kept and had the means to get it. What does that say to you, Anita?”

She laid a hand on her purse, imagined pulling out the pistol she’d put inside it—just in case—and emptying it into Malachi Sullivan’s smug face.

“It says to me that Mr. Dubrowsky deserved what he got. I’ll be handling my own negotiations from now on.”

“Then I should tell you straight off, our asking price isn’t negotiable, so let’s not spoil this lovely meal with wrangling. We considered asking for a great deal more, letting you counter and doing the back-and-forth business. But really, we’ve come too far for such petty behavior, haven’t we? You want them, I have them. That’s the price.”

He bit into the roll he’d buttered. “You’ll parlay them for a tidy profit, reap considerable glory on Morningside and yourself. Everyone wins.”

“Even if I agreed to the price, that much in cash—”

“Cash is the currency. Or I should say electronic cash. Simpler all around, very little paperwork to contend with. I’ll give you two days to make the arrangements.”

“Two days? That’s—”

“Time enough for a canny woman like you. Thursday, eleven o’clock. You transfer the funds to the account I’ll give you at that time. Once it’s done, I give you Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you to hold up your end. Really, Malachi.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s a problem, isn’t it? Still, I’m trusting you to make the arrangements and not have a couple of rottweilers standing by to tear out my throat and take the prize from my cold, dead hand. That’s why we’ll make the exchange in a public and civilized arena. The New York Public Library. I’m sure you’ve heard of it? The one on Fifth Avenue at Fortieth Street. Grand marble lions out front. They have an extensive section on mythology. It seems quite apt to me.”

“I need time to think about it. A way to contact you.”

“You have till eleven on Thursday to think about it. As for contacting me, well, there’s no need. Those are the terms. If they don’t suit you, they’re sure to suit someone else. Say, Wyley’s. The library, the main reading room on the third floor. Excuse me a minute, won’t you, darling? I’m just going to make use of the facilities.”

He strolled out through the doors that led to the rest rooms and the bar. And kept right on walking, leaving Anita stuck with the check.

“That went well,” he said into the mike fixed to the underside of his lapel.

“Well enough,” his sister agreed. “We’re circling back around. We’ll pick you up on the east corner. Cleo wants you to know she’s very disappointed you didn’t hang through it and bring back a doggie bag.”

He chuckled, headed toward the corner. Then felt the honed point of a knife jab at his side, just along his kidney.

“Just keep walking, pal.” Jasper’s voice was low and even as he gripped Malachi’s arm in his free hand. “And keep in mind, I can jam this into you, slice out a good chunk, and nobody but me’s going to know the difference.”

“If you’re after what’s in my wallet, you’re going to be very disappointed.”

“We’re going to get in a car half a block up and go to a nice, quiet place I’ve got all ready for you. Have a nice, quiet talk.”

“Talking works for me. Why don’t we find a bar and do it over a friendly drink?”

“I said keep walking.”

Malachi bit back a hiss as the knife slid through jacket and shirt and into flesh. “That’s going to be hard to do if you keep jabbing at me with that pig-sticker.”

“Well now,” Gideon said pleasantly as he came up behind them. “This is a dilemma. You push that knife into my brother, and I shoot you dead. Hardly anyone’s going to be happy with that eventuality.”

“Shoot him anyway. He’s fucked up my best suit.”

“That doesn’t seem quite fair. What do you think, Jack?”

“Spill the guy’s guts out over the sidewalk, city employees have to clean it up. That means higher taxes for me.” He held out a hand. “But if you don’t take that knife out of my friend there and give it to me, hilt first, I’m willing to pay.”

This time, when the tip of the steel slid out of his side, Malachi couldn’t hold back the hiss. “Fuck me, did you have to take so bloody long?”

“Let’s have the hardware, too.” Jack moved in, smiling cheerfully and, in a move that looked like a friendly embrace, slid the gun from beneath Jasper’s jacket and under his own.

“Are you all right, Mal?”

“Oh, I’m fucking dandy.” He pressed a hand to his bleeding side. “What the hell were you going to shoot him dead with?”

Gideon held up Tia’s inhaler behind Jasper’s back.

“Oh perfect. I owe my flaming life to hypochondria.” He spotted the van, turned to Jasper and showed his teeth in a sneering smile. “We’ll have that nice, quiet talk now.” He wrenched open the cargo doors, hauled himself in.

Tia leaped toward him, sobbing his name, but he held up a hand. “One minute. First things first.” As soon as they’d shoved Jasper in behind him, Malachi plowed a fist into his face.

“Oh that’s fine, that’s good.” Wincing, Malachi flexed his fingers. “A broken hand’ll take my mind off the fact that I’m bleeding to death.”

Shocked steady, Tia eased him into a chair. “Cleo, drive to Jack’s. You keep that horrible man down that end,” she ordered Gideon. “Jack, do you have a first-aid kit in here?”

“Glove box.”

“Rebecca?”

“I’m getting it.”

Despite the pain, and the extra jolt of it when she tugged his jacket off, Malachi grinned up at her. “You’re a wonder, you are. Give us a kiss.”

“Be quiet. Be still.” Though her head spun sickly as she saw the blood spreading low on his shirt, she tore it open. She shot one fulminating look toward Jasper, now cuffed and gagged in the rear corner of the van. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

 

 

“HE SHOULD GO to the hospital. He should really go see a doctor, don’t you think?” Pacing Jack’s living room, Tia wrung her hands. “The cut was awfully deep. If Jack and Gideon hadn’t gotten there in time . . . If that man had gotten Malachi into the car . . .”

“If a pig had two heads, he’d have two brains. Here now.” Eileen held out a tumbler with three generous fingers of Paddy’s. “Drink this.”

“Oh. Well. I don’t really drink. And whiskey . . . well, I used to—sometimes—take just a little sip of some before one of my lectures. But it’s not—”

“Tia. Chill.”

At Cleo’s order, Tia shuddered, nodded, then took the glass and downed every drop.

“That’s a girl,” Eileen approved. “Now you sit down.”

“I’m too frazzled to sit. Mrs. Sullivan . . . Eileen, don’t you think he needs to be seen by a doctor?”

“You patched him up just fine. The boy’s had worse wrestling with his brother. Here now, Rebecca’s brought you a nice clean blouse.”

“Clean . . .” Baffled, Tia glanced down, saw the blood smeared over her shirt. “Uh-oh,” she managed as her eyes started to roll back.

“No, you don’t. None of that now.” Eileen spoke briskly and pushed her into a chair. “No woman who can mop a man up in a moving van is going to faint away at the sight of a bit of secondhand blood. You’re not so silly.”

Tia blinked to clear her vision. “Really?”

“You did great,” Cleo told her. “I mean, you kicked serious ass.”

“She was brilliant,” Rebecca agreed. “Here, change your shirt now, Tia darling, and we’ll soak your nice blouse and see if we can get the blood out of it.”

“Do you think they’re going to beat him up?” Tia wondered.

“Ugly Mean Guy?” Cleo passed the stained blouse to Rebecca. “Sure hope so.”

 

 

IT WAS BEING debated downstairs, with some heat, with Jasper in the unfortunate position of being tied to a chair and listening to the arguments pro and con.

“I say we kick his ass, break a few important bones, then talk to him.”

Jack shook his head, took the hammer Malachi was thumping rhythmically on the counter, set it aside. “Three to one. Doesn’t seem quite fair.”

“Oh, we want fair, do we?” Enjoying himself, Malachi stormed over and kicked Jasper’s chair. “And was he being fair, I’d like to know, when he fucking stabbed me, right out on the street?”

“Mal’s got a point, Jack.” Gideon popped cashews out of a bowl and into his mouth. “Bastard stuck a knife in my brother, who was unarmed at the time. That’s just not right. Maybe we should let Mal stab him. Not fatally or anything such as that. Just one good jab, to even the score, so to speak.”

“Yeah, look at this.” Mal lifted an arm, showing off the bandage riding just above his waistband. “And what about my suit? That’s another factor. The shirt, too. Big gaping holes in both, as well as in my person.”

“I know you’re upset. Can’t blame you. But the guy was just doing his job. Isn’t that right?” Jack flipped open the wallet they’d taken off him, as if to check the name again. “Marvin.”

Marvin let out a choked sound around his gag.

“Well, his flaming job stinks,” Malachi ranted. “And I’d think a good thrashing was just one of the employment risks in the field.”

“Let’s try this. Let’s talk to the poor bastard first. See if he cooperates. If you’re not satisfied”—Jack gave Malachi a friendly pat on the back—“we’ll beat the shit out of him.”

“I get first shot. I want to break the fingers on the hand he used to stab me. One knuckle at a time.”

The men looked at each other, back at Jasper, whose eyes were bulging, and were satisfied they’d played their parts well.

Jack walked over, tugged down the gag. “Okay, you got the picture. My associates here want to take some pieces out of you. Me, I’m a fan of democracy, and majority rules. You want to avoid that vote, you’ll cooperate. Otherwise, I turn them loose, and when we’re done, we dump you on Anita’s doorstep. She’ll finish you off. Gid? Play back that one part of the tape, you know, where she’s telling Mal how she deals with unsatisfactory employees.”

Gideon walked over to the recorder, turned on the tape he’d already cued up. Anita’s voice, cold as death, filled the room as she spoke about steadily, easily putting bullets into a man.

“We’ll make sure she gets the opportunity with you,” Jack told him. “The three of us, we might cause you some pain, but we’re not cold-blooded killers. We’ll leave that part to the expert.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You tell us everything you know. Don’t spare the details. And when the time comes, you’re going to tell the whole thing to a friend of mine who happens to be a cop.”

“You think I’m going to talk to the cops?”

“I’ve seen your sheet, Marvin. It won’t be the first time. Nobody’s got you on murder yet. You want to give her the chance to twist it around so you take the fall for Dubrowsky, for Michael Hicks?” Jack waited a beat. “That’s what she’ll do if you don’t get there first and have us backing you up. Or we just step back and let her do to you what she did to Dubrowsky.”

“Better prison than the morgue,” Malachi put in. “You should know we’ve got our little dance on the sidewalk on tape as well. So we can turn it and you over to the police now and be done with it, and you don’t have the edge of going in with—what is it, Jack?”

“Remorse. Remorse and cooperation.”

“You won’t have that opening with the police. With Anita still free and with money at her fingertips, how long do you think it would take her to hire someone to terminate your employment, on a permanent basis, when you’re behind bars?”

“I want a deal.” Jasper licked his lips. “I want immunity.”

“You’ll have to take that up with my friend with the badge,” Jack told him. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to take your wants and needs into consideration. Now.” Jack signaled Gideon to turn on the video recorder. “Let’s talk about what it’s like to work for Anita Gaye.”