"Mr. Hammer . . ." He turned sharply, facing me, a big guy carrying a lot of federal authority. He was all set to read me right out of the picture, but he wasn't that big.
I walked into the room and said, "Which couple of killings are you referring to? I can name three more civilian jobs that carry Penta's trademark and a lot of others on the political scene without any fingers." I was lying about the last bunch, but he didn't know that and I saw him stiffen visibly. He looked at Coleman quickly, then back to me. "How do you know that?"
Now it was better. He wasn't challenging me at all. He knew that someplace I had gotten information I wasn't supposed to have, and he didn't know what I was going to do with it. I wasn't somebody he could put a hold on and he had to make up his mind fast.
I gave him a simple noncommittal shrug.
Coleman cleared his throat. It had caught him off guard too. "You seem to have some unusual sources, Mr. Hammer."
I still didn't say anything.
"Did Captain Chambers tell you this?"
Truthfully, I said, "I don't think Pat even knows about it." I was full of truth these days. Ray Wilson probably hadn't had time to tell him and he didn't know Russell Graves.
"And, of course, you aren't going to tell us where you got the information from."
"What difference does it make?" I asked him. "Now we all know what the facts are." Candace Amory's face seemed to be frozen, but her eyes were blazing. I added, "Too bad you didn't let the lady district attorney in on your show."
Ice was in her voice too. "Yes, that is too bad. I thought we were a team."
"We were going to, Miss Amory. For the moment we thought it best to ignore the background and concentrate on the current situation." Bradley was really trying now. "Perhaps if Mr. Hammer leaves, we can put our cards on the table-"
I didn't let him finish. "Why don't you tell her you're after a terrorist, Bradley?" I ignored him then and looked at Candace. "He's a hit man, kid. A coolly professional killer who can work in the big time and enjoys signing his work with finger mutilation. Somebody took him out of his grade and put him in the political arena. Now he's over here."
Candace walked to the door, closed it, then came back to the table. To Bradley she said, "I assume this is true?"
"Generally, yes."
While the static was still in the air I said, "Why don't you put the cards on the table, people? Whether you like it or not, I'm in. There's no way you can cut me out now."
Before Bradley could stop her, Candace looked directly at him, but was speaking to me. "Mr. Bradley is the State Department's expert on this Penta person. I though his assignment was fairly recent, but it looks like he's been at it for some time now. Is that right, Mr. Bradley? Or do I reach my associates in Washington to find out?"
There was no embarrassment in Bradley's face at all. They train the State guys well. When something sours, they go with the play and take the best way out.
He talked to me too, but his eyes were on hers. "Yes, it's quite true. I have led a specially selected team to locate and seize Penta for the past eleven years. We've gotten close several times, so have the British, but every time he has eluded us. There have been nine important political assassinations credited to him, but on these there were no mutilations. Instead, there was a simple slash across the backs of all four fingers and the thumb in each case. Rather than leaving a signature, he was initialing his work. When our agent apparently surprised him in England, he reverted to his previous method of total finger amputation to show his displeasure."
"Who's his boss?" I asked him.
"It would have to be an unfriendly. Somebody funds him well."
From the side, Coleman cut in with, "We suspect that he could be somebody in a low level of politics or a police organization. The way he moves, he seems to have a great deal of insight into our activities."
"And if you must know, Mr. Hammer, it was because of the death of our agent in England that I was removed from my post and brought back to the States."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I'm the only one who has had any previous experience with this person's operation. When Victor Starson gets here, I'll be relieved and transferred to Washington."
"Meanwhile," I reminded him, "Penta is here."
"And so are you, Mr. Hammer. Please remember that it was you he came for."
"Now we're back to square one. I'm a political zero. I have no ties to government policy in any way. I'm the one big mistake in this scenario."
"This killer hasn't made a mistake yet," Bradley said softly. "As long as his identity is an absolute mystery, all the odds are on his side."
"Buddy, he's no ghost. He's been seen by a lot of people. Trouble is, they never knew who they were looking at." I paused and looked at all three of them. To Bradley I said, "But you are wrong about him never making a mistake."
They waited to hear the rest of it, but I looked at my watch, then at Candace. "We going to get that drink, Miss Amory?"
But Coleman wouldn't let it drop. "You were saying, Mr. Hammer . . ."
"I was saying that this is a police matter in the City of New York and you'll just have to wait for Captain Chambers to release any fresh information. You ready, Miss Amory?"
Everybody left. The good-byes were fuzzy. Candace and I got in a cab and I had the driver take us to the Old English Tavern. Petey Benson was at the bar talking baseball to a yuppie type and almost dropped his teeth when he saw me with Candace.
I nudged Candace's shoulder. "Care to meet a fan?"
"Does he vote?"
"What difference does it make? You were appointed."
"One day that will change."
"He votes," I told her.
She smiled pleasantly. "Then by all means, introduce us."
Petey was a little uncertain about taking the hand she held out, but grinned and gave her fingers a squeeze. He appreciated civilian authority from an objective viewpoint, not this close. "Petey's one of the good-guy reporters, Miss Amory. Got real hidden talents."
"Wonderful," she said.
Silently, Petey was kicking my tail.
I told him, "You feel like doing me a favor, pal?"
"Nope, I don't ever . . ."
"Get into your files and get me some information on DiCica. Not his record or any late stuff. Go back as far as you can."
"Why? The guy's dead."
"Just do it, okay?"
For a second I thought he was going to tell me to forget it, but he read my eyes a second and nodded slowly. "Sure," he told me. "Only because of one thing will I do it."
"What's that?"
"We got computers and fax machines now and I don't get tied up for a week scanning old copy."
I threw five bucks on the bar and ordered beers for Petey and his baseball buddy, then went back to a table with Candace. I answered her question before she could ask it. "The killer was after DiCica or me. Now, I know all about me, and I know something about DiCica. What I want is to know all about DiCica."
"We know all about DiCica."
"Hell, kid, not even DiCica knew that. He led two completely different lives."
She waited until the waiter brought the drinks, then toyed with her glass while she put her thoughts together. She knew I was watching her, feeling her with my eyes, reading the little bits of body language that she let slip, and let her mouth go firm.
"Don't do that," I said.
Her expression questioned me.
"You got a nice, sensual mouth, kid. Don't squeeze it shut like that."
"Please!" She glanced around quickly, afraid someone had heard me.
I grinned at her. "Now talk to me, pretty lady."
This time she shook her head and smiled back. "Why do I go from hot to cold with you?"