“So did we,” he said. “So what?”
“So he’s not going to follow her. What about the other one?”
The man in the cap and windbreaker had been back intermittently, and Keller had spotted him that morning in the coffee shop on the corner. He’d stopped by to pick up breakfast for the two of them, and there was the guy, perched on a stool at the counter, tucking into a plate of salami and eggs.
“Salami and eggs,” Keller said. “I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”
“Maybe he decided to catch a movie.”
“Or maybe he’s sitting in some other window, without a glowing cigarette to give him away. You don’t think she really left for the weekend, do you?”
“Who knows?”
“The guy with the mustache has to be part of the game,” he said. “How else do you explain the mustache? I mean, now you see it, now you don’t.”
“Either he’s neurotic in a new and interesting way,” Dot said, “or he’s a player. Besides, didn’t he stop your girlfriend on the street to ask directions? And she pointed him to the building?”
“If he was legit, he’d know where he lives.”
“He wanted a close look at her,” she said. “Wanted a chance to size her up.”
“Why?”
“To lock in on the target, I guess. Don’t you do that? Confirm the subject’s identity before you close the sale?”
“I’d just as soon do it from a distance,” he said. “You get up close, talk to them, it complicates things.”
“You start thinking you know them.”
“And you don’t know them,” he said, “not really. The only reason they’re in your life is because there’s a contract in your pocket with their name on it. It’s the job that brought the two of you together, and in the end you have to bite the bullet and do the job.”
“But it’s easier if you keep your distance.”
“I’d say so,” he said, “but maybe this guy’s wired differently. Maybe he likes the idea of talking to her, knowing all along he’s going to take her out.”
“Sick,” Dot said.
“Well, mental health’s not necessarily part of the job description.”
“No.”
“And who says he’s the one who’s going to take her out? Maybe he’s Roger, and the other guy’s going to hit her.”
“The windbreaker.”
“That makes him sound like he’s got gas,” he said. “One of them’s Roger and one’s our hitter. I wish we knew which was which.”
“If only,” Dot said.
“Simplify things, wouldn’t it? Instead of waiting around, I could just go ahead and take him out. With Roger down and out, we could call off the other guy, and everybody could go home.”
“We couldn’t call off our guy, Keller. He’s still got a job to do, because your girlfriend’s still a loose end.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Maybe you could stop calling her my girlfriend.”
“Sorry.”
“Just to keep it simple, you know?”
“It won’t happen again.”
“And it’d still be good if we knew which was which, because I could deal with Roger and we could clear out. And the other guy could do what he came here to do, and we wouldn’t have to sit around and watch him get ready to do it.”
“Uh-huh. Have you got a hunch?”
“As to which is which? I’ve got two hunches, and I’m pretty sure one of them is right.”
“Narrows it down.”
“On the one hand,” he said, “the guy with the mustache is Roger, and that’s why he’s at the window all the time, puffing away on a Marlboro Light. Because why else would he need an observation post? If he’s just there to fulfill a contract, all he needs to do is a little reconnaissance. But if he’s Roger, waiting to hit the hitter, he’s got to spot the other guy and know when the hit goes down.”
“Makes sense.”
“On the other hand,” he said, “what’s with the mustache? Why does he need to change his appearance?”
“To keep from being recognized.”
“Who’s going to recognize him, Dot? Maggie? She saw him once, when he stopped her on the street, but she never has to see him again. The other hitter? The other hitter doesn’t know anything about Roger. He’s here to do a job and he’s got no reason to think it’s going to be complicated.”
“On the one hand he’s Roger,” she said, “and on the other hand he’s not.”
“There you go,” he said.
“I had this thought,” he said.
“Care to share it?”
“I could just do them both, you know? Instead of waiting, because we could sit here forever. She’s out, and God knows when she’s coming back, and nobody can do anything until she does. Unless our hitter tailed her, but he wouldn’t do that, would he?”
“Two things I told him,” she said. “It has to be in her loft and it has to look like an accident.”
“So it won’t happen until she comes back, but what do we need her for? I go across the street and up four flights and take out the guy with the mustache. Then I come down and hit a few doorways until I bump into the guy with the windbreaker, and I do him.”
“Kill ’em both and let God sort ’em out.”
“We might never know which was which,” he said, “but what difference would it make? The thing is, I’d be killing an innocent man.”
“How do you figure that?”
“The guy you hired. He comes to New York to do a job and gets killed by the people who hired him.”
“He’s here to kill a girl, Keller. Don’t you think it’s a stretch to call him innocent?”
“You know what I mean. I’d be killing him for no reason.”
“Suppose someone hired you to kill him.”
“Then I’d have a reason.”
“But this way you don’t.”
“Not in the same way, no. But it’s a waste of time talking about it. I mean, who even knows for sure that it’s narrowed down to those two guys? Maybe somebody else is Roger, somebody we haven’t even noticed yet.”
“It’s possible.”
“So it’d be nuts, taking them both out. Anyway, it was just a thought.”
“Keller, I had the same thought.”
“Really?”
“And the same objections, plus an extra. We’d still have that dame to worry about. Your girlfriend, and I’m sorry, I was going to stop calling her that.”
“Well,” he said.
“I suppose we could burn that bridge when we came to it,” she said, “but I think what we’ve got to do is stick with the original plan. I just wish I’d realized there was going to be so much waiting involved. I’d have set it up differently.”
Twenty-seven
“Keller!”
He was dreaming, and yearned to sink back into the dream, but she said his name again and he shook it off and got out of bed. “Quick,” she said, and he hurried over to the window in time to see a woman leaning against the side of a cab while her companion counted out bills and paid the driver. The cab pulled away and the two of them stood in the middle of Crosby Street. The woman was Maggie, but who was the man?
He wore jeans and a beat-up leather jacket, and for a minute Keller thought it was the locksmith, but this guy was bigger. Of course, he thought, the little man could have put on a few pounds by now. Boston cream pie will do that, but would it make you taller, too? Maybe if you stood on it…
Maggie pulled the man into an embrace, and Keller felt as though he shouldn’t be watching this. “Her latest superficial relationship,” Dot said dryly. “We haven’t seen him before, or have we? Help me out here, Keller.”
“He doesn’t look familiar.”
“He’s certainly getting familiar with her, though, isn’t he? Has he got his hand where I think he does?”
“I think she’s bringing him in the building.”
“I knew that when the cab drove off, Keller. Although for a minute there I thought they were going to do it in the middle of the street. No, don’t say anything. Just listen for a minute. There!”