One of them, who was thin and tall with curly light hair and a mustache, closed the door to Paine's office and stood with his hands folded in front of him. The thin one looked at the other one, who was stocky and slightly muscled, with dark hair and eyes, and the stocky one shuffled to Paine's desk and tried to look mean. He looked more nervous.
"We're here to talk to you," he said, gruffly.
"So talk," Paine said.
The gruff one looked at the thin one with the mustache, who shuffled his feet and looked down. The stocky one put the flats of his hands on Paine's desk and leaned on it.
"Someone sent us."
"Who?"
"Jeez, it's hot in here," the one by the door suddenly said. He looked at Paine a moment and then looked back down at the floor.
"We want you to vacate the building," the gruff one said.
"Excuse me?" Paine said.
"Move out," the one by the door added quickly.
The gruff one began to move around the desk toward Paine, and now the one by the door came briskly away from it and approached Paine from the other side. The two of them had finally made up their minds. The stocky one reached into his pocket, removed a short length of brass tube, and wrapped his fingers around it into a fist. The skinny one with the mustache had his wide eyes riveted on Paine now, his hands balling into fists.
The skinny one reached for Paine first, and Paine stood and came up at him under the chin. The man made a surprised sound and then Paine turned his attention to the one with the pipe under his knuckles. As expected, he tried to use that fist first and Paine easily ducked way from it, crouching and throwing a solid blow into the man's crotch. He groaned and sat down heavily on the floor. His hand opened, the pipe rolling away, and he clutched at his privates.
The skinny one decided to try again. Paine was on him quickly, kicking him hard in the knee as he rose, and the man grabbed at his knee and yelled and Paine hit him again. Paine kicked him sharply in the right side as he lay out flat on the floor and that seemed to be it for him.
The stocky one had not quite given up, he was on all fours, trying to rise, so Paine kicked him twice in quick succession in the rib cage and that was the end of it.
Paine stood over them and said, "You guys wanted to talk to me?"
"Jesus," the stocky one groaned; the thin one with the mustache said, "Shit."
"Let's talk," Paine said. "Tell me who sent you."
The stocky one shook his head dully, so Paine kicked him again in the ribs.
"Jesus!" he said. "Stop it!"
"Tell me who sent you."
"I can't," the stocky one said. Paine made sure the skinny one was watching and he kicked the stocky one again, harder, and the stocky one screamed.
Paine went to the other one and said, "Tell me who sent you."
"Please, let's just forget it," the skinny one said.
"You saw what I did to your friend?"
The man nodded.
Paine kicked him smartly in the side.
"Anapolos sent us!" the skinny one said.
"Who are you?" Paine asked.
The skinny one was moaning, lying on his back, holding his side. "Jesus!"
"You're not Jesus," Paine said. He cocked his foot back and the skinny one stopped moaning long enough to say, "Koval. My name's Koval."
"Who's he?" Paine asked, pointing to the stocky one.
"Kohl," Koval said. "His name's Richie Kohl."
"What do you have to do with Anapolos?"
Richie Kohl had rolled up into a sitting position, arms around his knees. He looked grouchy and hurt. "We live in his building in Easton."
"Pennsylvania?" Paine said. "Anapolos owns a building in Easton, Pennsylvania?"
Koval, the skinny one, nodded. "Two buildings. They're pigsties."
"And what are you if you live in them?"
"We owe him rent," Kohl said.
"Get up," Paine said.
They both rose, warily.
"Here's the story," Paine said. He reached under his desk, turned off the tape recorder. "I see you around here again, I bust your heads. Then I get you arrested. I want you to tell Anapolos he's a scumbag. Got that?"
They nodded, looking like schoolboys caught stealing milk money.
"And if it helps," Paine said, as they slouched toward the door, "You don't owe Anapolos rent anymore. In fact, you've got the next six months rent free."
Koval and Kohl looked at Paine blankly.
"Get out," Paine said.
Paine closed the door behind them, and turned on his message machine.
Chief Bryers' voice was on the tape immediately. It said, "Paine, call me." The rest of the tape was empty.
Paine punched the number in, and was put through immediately.
"Paine," Bryers said, "I'd like to see you now."
"Still hot with that job offer, Chief?"
Bryers waited a beat before answering. "A man named Roberto Hermano, who Bob Petty was working with, was found murdered. And Coleman has disappeared. I'd like to see you. Now, if you can, Paine."
"I can," Paine said.
11
Paine didn't know Bryers well. He had been brought in to clean up the department only six months before and by all indications had done a good job. People were scared of him, which meant he was effective. And he had been Coleman's main worry, which was fine with Paine.
Bryers' office was spartan and neat; the clock on the wall outside said 3:05 and the air conditioner had been turned off. There was a residual breath of cool air that Paine relished as he sat down.
"I hear that you spoke with Roberto Hermano," Bryers said, directly. He looked like the kind of man who didn't waste time. He looked like his office. His tie was still knotted, his shirt white and unstained with perspiration, the sleeves buttoned at the cuff. His face was a bureaucrat's: oval, symmetrical, bland but potentially hard, the eyes unblinking, the hair thinning, parted, always combed. He'd look at home here or behind a lawyer's desk, or a vice president's desk at any corporation anywhere. He looked like the kind of man who would be good at implementing policy, or carrying out orders to the letter. Paine wasn't sure if he liked him or not.
"I talked with Hermano two days ago." Paine smiled slightly; it went unreturned. "Just a friendly talk."
"Coleman told you about him?"
"Well. ."
"Coleman told you about him," Bryers stated, as if he were reading from prepared notes. "He also told you about Petty's drug investigation. Also, he made an unauthorized job offer to you, with incentives attached that made the offer, in effect, a bribe."
"Can I guess?" Paine said. "You had Coleman's office bugged."
Bryers almost blinked. "I'd like to know what Roberto Hermano told you during your conversation."
"He told me Bob Petty was a good guy, and that now he thought he was fucked because Petty was gone, and the whole operation would be folded. I guess he was right."
Bryers nodded. "We found him in his apartment with his throat cut. His testicles had been stuffed into his mouth."
Bryers waited for a reaction that Paine didn't give, and then leaned slightly forward. "The thing is, Paine, I don't want you involved in this."
"Why not?"
"Because you're just going to get in my way. I was sent here to do a job. I've been here six months, and in another few months this police department will be clean."
"Bob Petty isn't a dirty cop."
"I wish I could believe that, Paine. But now I don't think so. We believe Coleman had Roberto Hermano killed. Coleman had been dealing with Hermano ever since Petty's drug sting was set up. When the sting was sprung we were going to bring Coleman down with the rest of them. Now it looks like Petty, too, was on the other side of the fence. I realize Petty is your friend, Paine, and I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
"I can't believe that."