“Don, how is everything?” The Boss inquired.
The Boss… We almost always called him just that. His name, however, was Creighton Barbeau, chairman of the board of Angra Energy.
We…? I wasn’t certain exactly who all the pronoun covered, as I possessed only a partial memory here. But there were images of myself as a member of some sort of group of special people who worked for him. And Marie, Marie was one of us.
“Everything is very interesting lately,” I said. “How’d you know I was on that plane?”
He squinted his left eye and smiled, which I knew meant that he considered that a foolish question. Of course, I ought to know that he knew everything…
“I’m concerned about you, Don,” he said, moving around the table, coming up to me, squeezing my shoulder. “You don’t look real well. I thought we were taking better care of you. Getting tired of Florida?”
“I’m getting tired of a lot of things,” I said.
“Surely,” he agreed, taking my arm. “Completely understandable. Not everybody likes an early retirement.” Automatically, I let him guide me to the table. “Care for a drink?”
“Not now, thanks.”
“…But you know how it was,” he went on, raising his glass for a sip. “A lot of trouble there, getting you out of the way in time.”
He set it down and gave me a full, direct, open-seeming gaze.
“Not that you weren’t worth it, of course, God knows. But things were a bit ticklish for a while. Couldn’t take any chances. Always worth going out of your way for a good man, though.”
“Donald,” Marie said, in her precise way, before I could get off a reply. She extended her hand and I took it, again automatically.
“Marie,” I said. “How’ve you been?”
“Not hurting,” she answered, “and getting better at what I do. What more can a person ask?”
“Indeed,” I said, feeling something a trifle hostile behind her smiling mask.
“I’ve thought of you a lot, Don,” The Boss was going on. “You’ve been missed, you know. Considerably.”
“Where’s Cora?” I said, turning toward him.
“Cora?” He furrowed his brows. “Oh, Cora. Of course. Someone did mention her to me—a lady you’ve been seeing recently. You know—you know, Don—I’d be willing to bet that she never left the state at all. I’ll bet she’s still down in the Keys, looking for you right now. Had a little pout and left, changed her mind. You should really have left her a message.”
I felt slightly uncomfortable at that, because of the bare possibility that there might be some truth in it. He pressed on then, before I could voice any doubts:
“You know, I don’t think you really came here looking for her,” he said, conspiratorially. “Maybe that’s what you told yourself, but I think it was something different. I think maybe you’re feeling better now than you were a few years ago. I think you came up here, whether you realize it or not, looking for some action. I think you really want your old job back.”
He studied my features at this last—almost hopefully, I’d say.
“I don’t remember my old job all that well,” I answered him. “Is Cora here?”
“We could use you, if you’re up to it again,” he continued quickly. “Of course you could expect a sizable raise. Hate to see my people suffering from inflation. The competition’s getting pretty fierce, you know? That big lead we had in solar energy’s just been melting away. Too damn much government interference—and the other guys have been spying on us like something out of James Bond. Got to hand it to them, though. They’ve come up with some clever tricks for that sort of thing—and it’s costing plenty just to keep them at arms’ distance. Not that they could ever hold a candle to one of my top people, if you catch my meaning. Bet you could really throw them the shaft.”
“Look,” I said. “Maybe so and maybe not But it’s Cora I want to hear about right now. Do you know where she is?”
“Don, Don, Don…” he sighed. “You don’t seem to understand what I’m saying. We really can use you again. I’m offering you your old job back on even better terms. We want you to rejoin the family. People look at me sometimes when I talk that way, but I really do think of all my personal aides as a family. I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for them to make their lives a little brighter.”
“Cora,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Might even help you look for your lady friend,” he said then.
“You’re saying you don’t know where she is?”
“Don’t know,” he said. “We’ll help you, though, if you’ll help us.”
“I think you’re lying.”
“Now that hurts, Don,” he answered. “I try to be square with my people.”
“Okay,” I said. “I know you keep records on everything—clandestine as well as above-board. Let me look, if that’s the case. Let me check the Double Z files on current quiet stuff.”
“And you said your memory was bad. But that’s right, you did work in Double Z a lot. Guess that would be hard to forget. All right. It grieves me that you don’t trust my word, but if you want to check the records, you can. Anything you want. We can go and look at them right now.”
Was that a mocking light in Marie’s eyes as she raised her glass and drained it?
The Boss made a motion to his Muscle. They crossed the room. One of them opened a door—not the one I had come in by.
He held it open. The other passed outside. Marie picked up her purse from the floor and got to her feet. She and Barbeau began moving toward the doorway. I followed them.
We exited, to come upon a small, private parking lot. The bodyguard who had preceded us was already climbing into a limousine. There was something more than a little suspicious to me about the ease with which The Boss had agreed to give me a ride over to the shop for an inspection of secret records.
The limousine came to life. It moved.
“This is very cooperative of you,” I said, “but I’m not really prepared to inspect them immediately. I want my lawyer on hand when I do.”
I didn’t really have a lawyer in the area, but if I called Ralph Button I’d a feeling he could put me in touch with someone competent.
“A lawyer?” he said, turning toward me as the car swung around. “Come on, Don! This is just between us. I don’t want some legal eagle sniffing around while you’re pulling out sensitive stuff.”
“I’ll come by in the morning, to the front door,” I said, “with counsel. I want to have lots of explanations then—like what I was supposed to have done that got me sent out to pasture with my brains washed. I’ll want to talk about that, too.”
The car pulled up before us, halted.
The big man at his side moved forward and opened doors. I took a step backward and let my hands hang loose. I adjusted my balance. I’d a feeling that the bodyguard was going to try forcing me into the car. If so—