“Time, Regan?”
“Plenty of time, kitten.”
“It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”
“Years and years.”
“Will it ever happen again?” There was an expectant catch in her voice, a hushed quality as though she said more than she had wanted to. The hesitant fear was there in her face, but she had to wait for my answer now that it was asked.
I said, “We’re funny people, you and I. Maybe we found something.”
“Can we be sure?”
I touched the wild swell of her breasts and felt her quiver beneath my fingers. “Are you asking me... or yourself? Something would have to change. I can’t.”
“No... you shouldn’t. I’m sorry, Regan. I never should have said it. The words... just spilled out. I’m not something to be proud of.”
“Why not?” My words were sharp, said from between teeth held too tightly together. “I’ve seen people die, kid. I’ve helped them fall. I’ve pulled the trigger. I’ve been there and back so who the hell am I to look back and pass judgment. It’s now and later that counts. Not the before part.”
Madaline came to me with the fierce possessiveness of a tiger, saying things I knew she had never said to anyone else before and heard them repeated back to her. Her nails bit into my skin with frenzied delight, her body engulfing me with new, supreme love.
The phone ringing wakened us with its insistence until I rolled out and picked it up. “Regan?”
“Yeah?” It was George Lucas’ voice.
“Where the hell have you been. I left a note and...”
“I just got in.” I lied to save making excuses.
“Well, buddy, I want to see you. Important”
“Now? It’s two a.m.”
“It’s your money, Regan. I said it was important.”
“Okay, name a spot.”
George named a bar on Sixth Avenue, and I told him I’d be there in thirty minutes. Madaline murmured when I shook her and opened her eyes. “Get up, Mad. Something’s come up. I don’t want you here alone.”
“Oh, Pat...”
“Somebody tried to kill me here the other night. Let’s not make it easy for him if there’s another try.”
Her eyes came wide open and I told her about it. She didn’t take more than a few minutes to get dressed. I shrugged into my coat, slipped the.45 into my belt and held the door open for her. She started to step out into the hallway when I realized the mistake I almost made and slammed her back with a sweep of my forearm. She hit the wall, fell as I jammed the door shut and dropped beside her.
No noise. Just two tiny holes showed in the panel at waist level and something chunked into the wall at the other side of the room. Madaline’s mouth was open with surprise as I said, “Somebody turned the light out in the hall.” Then she saw the holes in the door and nodded abruptly.
I reached up and flipped the switch off, blanketing the room in darkness. “Stay there,” I said. I felt the knob, turned it and eased the door open. Whoever was out there saw the motion and there was another almost silent plop, but I caught the wink of a muffled muzzle blast and triggered off a single shot at the pinpoint of light. The tremendous roar of the.45 split the night apart and feet pounded the stairs below with the heavy tread of someone in headlong flight. The door downstairs opened and slammed shut, but I didn’t follow, knowing it could be a cute trap. He could have eased back behind the stairwell and be there waiting. I went inside, got my flashlight, poked the beam through the banister to search out the area, and when I was certain it was empty, went down and turned on the hall light.
Madaline joined me at the door, still shaking with fright “What happened?”
“Another try. This time with a silenced gun. One of us is a target.”
“One of...”
So she wouldn’t be any more frightened than she was I said, “Me, most likely. Nobody knew you were here. They tried for me before. They’re running scared now.”
“Pat...”
“Let’s go, Mad. He won’t stay around now.” I waited for someone to show, listening for a siren in case one of the neighbors had heard the shot and called it in, but either the walls were too thick or nobody cared. I flagged down a cab, gave him the address of the bar and climbed in. Madaline squeezed my hand, forced a smile and didn’t say anything. I could still feel her trembling.
George had a corner of the bar to himself and the frown he wore turned into a grin when he saw Madaline and he held out his hands to her. “I’ll be damned. Like a class reunion. How the heck are you, Madaline?”
“Scared. Good to see you again, George.”
He looked at me and I roughed him in on what had happened. When I finished his eyes were narrow and hard. “The pressure is on, Regan. It can hit from any direction now. You’re too much of a threat. What the hell is it you know?”
“A lot of things. Not much of anything.”
“Well, I have something. Your money brought in some talk.” He glanced at Madaline.
“It’s all right,” I said. “She’s part of it with us. All on the same side.”
“Before he died, Leo Marcus set up the Syndicate’s new system. You had the old setup torn apart and the Syndicate got on his back for it. They held him responsible and dropped it in his lap. He had to get clear. Some way, he heisted the proof you had which put him back in the catbird seat with the Syndicate. Now here’s the kicker. The top dogs in the organization took a jolt when they had their lawyers check on the reorganization plans. Leo Marcus had taken their money and built himself a separate little world with it. Most likely he planned to get the dough back in the pot before the loss was discovered, but he didn’t act fast enough. They found it out and put out a contract for his kill that was accepted by a pair of hoods from Chicago.”
“When was this?”
“The closest I could figure it was three days before Marcus died. That gave them time to reach New York and pull the job.”
I shook my head. “They don’t work like that and you know it. They generally take a couple of weeks to lay out the kill.”
“Unless...” George started to say.
“Unless what?”
“They played it scientifically. They’re pros and they saw a way to move fast. They tried to take the heat off themselves and the mob by setting you up. Hell, you were on suspension and burning up to get to Marcus and they couldn’t ask for a better sucker. You were handy and they hung it on you in a hurry. The Syndicate would have liked it that way.”
“There’s a hole in the story.”
“Where?”
“The big boys wanted their money back too.”
It was George’s turn to shake his head no. “Not in this case. They could afford to let it go. They’d get it back in other ways, but they wouldn’t care about it that much. A guy with a million doesn’t miss a dollar. It’s the principle of the thing. They don’t want to establish any precedents by letting somebody in the organization get off with company funds.”
“Damn,” I said.
“There may be a contract out on you too, Regan,” George said quietly. “Where do we go from here?”
I tossed down the beer the bartender brought and said, “The love of money is the root of all evil.”
“What?” George frowned.
Madaline gave me a quick glance.
“I’ll call you at the office, George. Stand by in case there’s trouble.”
“The departmental trial is tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there,” I told him. I threw a bill on the bar and took Madaline by the arm and steered her outside. George had just grunted and called for another drink.
From the outside phone booth at the corner of Broadway I called Jerry Nolan and told him to meet me down at the diner near the precinct house. He swore and grumbled, but said he’d be there in fifteen minutes. When he got out of his car he was wrinkled and half dressed, a leather jacket thrown over his pajama tops. “You’re a bird, Regan. I don’t know why the hell I’m doing this.” He looked at Madaline, recognition in his eyes. “What’s she doing here?”