‘Yeah?’ he said.
‘Hello, Paul. This is Whit. Eve’s friend. I want Gooch ready to travel. At ten this evening, you will drive him to Lancey’s Grille on Buffalo. You’ll let him off in the lot and then drive away.’
‘Really.’ Paul toweled off his arms, his waist, tossed the towel on the floor, glanced at Tasha like he expected her to pick it up. ‘Whereas my money, asshole?’
‘Kiko has it,’ Whit said. ‘He took it from us.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘He grabbed the money from our room at the Greystoke Hotel. Eve and I got away.’
‘No. He would have killed you.’
‘Clearly he didn’t. So he’s got the drugs and the cash, and he doesn’t need you.’
‘You’re lying. Why the hell would you warn me?’
‘Because I want my friend back. I’ll give you Eve in exchange for Gooch.’
Paul stopped dead. ‘Say what?’
‘You’re such a dumbass,’ Whit said. ‘Kiko has the drugs. He has the money. He doesn’t need you at all. But Eve, she originally stole the money for Kiko. She was working for him. She turned on him, went on the run. I didn’t know it, she double-crossed me. But she doesn’t know I know. So I’ll trade you her for Gooch. I want out of this war, man, okay? I don’t want you coming after me. I give her to you, then we’re settled, you understand?’
‘I’ll settle it now. Do you want to hear your friend die?’ Paul yelled. ‘Because I’m getting my gun right now-’
‘Eve can help you get your money back – and more. She knows plenty on Kiko. She could put his ass in jail if you treat her right.’
‘Trust a traitor? How do I know any of this is true?’
‘Decide for yourself. This is a limited-time offer.’
A beat passed. ‘I’ll be there.’
‘One more thing,’ Whit said. ‘We have your financial data on a CD I got when I ran into your girlfriend Tasha at Eve’s house. Data that could slice and dice you, that can show just how your legit operations tidy up the money from your drug deals. Kiko didn’t get the CD when he got the cash.’ A pause. ‘But if you don’t show up, or you’ve killed Gooch, then Kiko gets a copy. The DA’s office gets a copy. Kiko and the DA, knowing all your secrets. Either way, you’re deeply, soundly, thoroughly laid open for everyone to see. Do we understand each other?’
Paul stared at Tasha. ‘I understand.’
‘You come alone. You come unarmed. We make the exchange and we both leave. Any deviation from that, and the data goes to the DA. Lancey’s Grille. You and Gooch, no one else. I’ll have hardass backup, man, so don’t screw with me.’ Whit hung up.
Paul clicked off the phone. He grabbed Tasha’s arm, hard. ‘Explain yourself. Right now.’
‘What, sweetpea?’
‘Eve’s partner, Whit. He says he got computer files from you, stuff you took off Eve’s laptop. He wants to. trade them for Gooch, alive, or he sends the files to the police.’
She shook her head. ‘No, sweetie, he was there to bug the place with voice recorders. We told you that, Bucks and Max found where he’d bugged the rooms. I didn’t see him take anything off her computer. Bucks and I looked at her computer together. Wasn’t anything off or on that shouldn’t be there. And Bucks cleaned the system. Whit’s bluffing, he’s got to be.’
‘You’re lying to me, Tasha.’ He gave a broken little laugh.
‘No, I’m not, Paul. These people are trying to hurt you. I’m on your side. He’s trying to get you riled. Force you into a mistake.’
Paul pushed her toward the door. ‘Get Max and Gary. Tell them to bring Gooch. And a high-powered rifle. You’re coming, too. We all gonna have a long chat with Eve and her buddy. I’m gonna get the chain out. Kill this guy and Gooch once I get Eve. Then I’m gonna have a real, real long chat with Bucks.’
Tasha nodded. ‘Whatever you say, sweetpea. Whatever you say.’
The parking lot was dark. The shopping center, a fancy one that had skidded on hard times, was L-shaped. Lancey’s Grille, closed now, was a cafe that served breakfast and lunch, nestled at the lonely end of the L with a long service road to its left. Traffic from Buffalo Speedway, a busier road, didn’t have a clear view of the front of the cafe. The rest of the stores were closed and quiet, the glow from the light poles giving off soft pools against the oily asphalt. At the opposite corner stood a small stone church with a wide, dark parking lot, and across from it a new townhouse development was under construction, earth turned open like a grave around newly poured foundations.
In the shadows of the serviceway behind the restaurant, Whit waited. Four minutes and then Paul was due, and Whit expected he would arrive on time. He had told the lie he thought most likely to convince Paul, trying to knit together the facts that he knew with an informed guess that Bucks must have made some explanation to Paul as to why the capture of Eve failed. His gun, one of Charlie’s, weighed like a tire-iron in his hand. He had never shot a person before, had not particularly enjoyed deer or quail hunting with his brothers, didn’t thrill at the pull of the trigger and the bark of the bullet.
But he was going to shoot Paul Bellini.
Whit would shoot Paul in the knees when he had to – as soon as Paul knew there was no Eve to trade. Knees were small targets. Chests were so much bigger. The thought made him sick and he shook it off. Talking tough on the phone had felt like play-acting, but this was real. He had to do it. For Gooch.
Headlights turned into the parking lot. A Porsche. Slowly moving toward the restaurant’s front. Parking at the edge of the glow thrown off by the mercury lights. Two cars went by on Buffalo and then the streets were empty for a moment.
Whit tucked the gun into the back of his pants.
The door opened. Paul Bellini stepped out from the driver’s side. Left the door open. Kept his hands down by his side. He wore a heavy leather jacket, thick-armed.
‘Put your hands on your head,’ Whit called.
Paul didn’t raise his hands. ‘This is an exchange. Not a surrender.’
Whit stepped out from the dark. ‘Where’s Gooch?’
‘He’s in the trunk.’
‘Open the trunk and bring him out.’
‘Slow down. Where’s Eve?’
‘In my van.’
‘Get her out here.’ Paul took a step forward.
They stood ten feet away from each other, the dim light flat against the asphalt, Paul more in the light, Whit on the edge of the dark.
‘This is how it works,’ Whit said. ‘I give you the keys to the van. Eve is inside. You give me the keys to the Porsche. I drive off, you drive off.’
‘I’m not trading a Porsche for your shit-ass van,’ Paul said.
‘You’re a real long-term-vision guy, aren’t you? I’ll get Gooch out, dump the car, and call you to tell you where your car’s at, okay?’ The weight of the gun pressed against the back of his pants. Sure that Paul had a gun under that leather coat, wondering am I fast enough to fire before be can? Figuring the math of death, dizzy but not exactly afraid.
Paul surprised him with a little laugh. Too calm for this. ‘Sure you will.’
‘I don’t want your car, you dumbass.’
‘Fine. Bring me the keys, then, buddy.’ Paul gestured at Whit with his fingertips. Whit took one step forward, walking into the light.
‘By the way,’ Whit said. ‘The same files I got from Tasha after she copied Eve’s hard drive, they’re attached to an e-mail message outlining your activities. Addressed to the DA’s office and to the police. It’s scheduled to go out in an hour with all those files attached. If I’m not there to delete that message, it mails. So you kill me, you’re still screwed. Do you understand me?’
‘Perfectly,’ Paul said. ‘You’re a clever bastard. You want a job?’
‘We’ve got different work styles.’
‘How do I know you won’t send the files anyway?’
‘Trust me.’
‘Trust you.’
‘I’m trusting that Gooch isn’t dead in that trunk,’ Whit said.
‘I’m trusting the same about Eve.’
Across the street, in the darkened church lot, a gentle little pop sounded. Like a door clicking shut. Then another. Paul started to glance over his shoulder, then didn’t.