“ When? ” Her teeth were chattering again. “How much longer are you going to keep my daddy waiting like this?”
“Not much.”
I’d spotted Green in a window, seated in a booth within the restaurant, and right now he and DeWayne were having a cell phone conversation, a little heated on Green’s part. No lip-reading was possible, but I got the gist- where the fuck was I?
I put the binoculars in my left jacket pocket, and stuck my right hand in the other pocket for the nine millimeter which I then stuffed in my waistband, and said to her, “Time for Daddy and pissing,” and she said, “Aren’t I the lucky one,” and I hauled her up off the snowy ground by the elbow.
“What’s the plan?” she asked, as I led her through the woods.
But I didn’t answer her till we’d crossed the highway, a good half-mile down from the Log Cabin, when we were in the wooded area, heading back around behind the restaurant.
“The plan,” I said, “is you behave yourself and I don’t kill your pretty ass.”
“I didn’t know you cared.”
When we entered through the kitchen, the girl’s handcuffed hands were still under my draped-over loaner jacket, and I had to give her credit, she didn’t cause any trouble or indicate anything was wrong.
The short-order cook, an olive-skinned guy who might have been Greek or Turkish or some shit, didn’t understand English; but he got the drift of a ten-spot quick enough, and-when I gestured toward the dining area-let us pass without incident.
We stopped at the ladies’ room (“Setters”)-a single seater, but there was room enough in there for both of us.
“What are you-kinky?” she asked, as she undid her jeans.
“No,” I said. “Careful.”
She sat. “You could turn your back.”
“Girls with nipple rings don’t get to be shy and retiring.”
“Fuck you,” she said over the noise she was making.
“I already passed-remember?”
She smirked, wiped herself, stood, pulled up her drawers; her pussy was shaved, and I caught a glint of another ring down there-why was I not surprised?
But punkette or not, she took time to wash her hands, dainty little thing that she was. I gave her plenty of room, not caring to have her toss soapy water in my eyes.
As we emerged, a middle-aged woman in a kitty sweater was waiting and she gave us a look.
“You don’t want to know,” I advised her, and she seemed to agree, slipping inside the little ladies room. The gulf between shaved pussy and kitty sweaters is a wide one.
The folksy, hunting-themed restaurant had filled up some, farmers, truck drivers, assorted locals-half the booths taken, most of the stools at the counter, too.
Sticking out like a well-tailored sore thumb, Jonah Green-still in his Saville Row topcoat in his window booth-half-rose when he spotted us coming from behind the counter toward him. He glanced ever so slightly, frowningly, toward the window-out where DeWayne was sitting guard, not missing anything, remember? — and Julie and I slid in opposite him.
“Mr. Green,” I said, with a nod.
He formed a tiny sneer large with contempt; his eyes, like his car, were money color. “And what shall I call you? Besides forty-two fucking minutes late.”
“Quarry.”
“What kind of name is that?”
“A false one.” I glanced at Julie. “You seem overjoyed to see your daughter, alive and well.”
Prompted, he leaned forward and sent his eyes to her. “Are you all right, Julie?”
“Fuck you,” she said.
Her list of responses was limited, but got the job done.
Her father sighed and looked at me as if seeking support or sympathy or something the fuck he wasn’t going to get.
He asked, “Do you have any children, Mr. Quarry?”
“Besides your daughter? No.”
He shook his head. “I fly through the goddamn night in a goddamn private jet to deliver this goddamn money, and this…”
“Mr. Green,” I interrupted tightly. “Some discretion, please?”
“…is the thanks I get. The appreciation.” Another sigh, a world-weary shrug. “But that’s the modern world, isn’t it, Mr. Quarry? Values. They’re nonexistent these days, aren’t they?”
I shifted in the booth. “You really don’t want to stall me, Mr. Green. Your daughter will tell you how little compunction I have about making people who annoy me go away.”
He studied me for perhaps five seconds-it seemed longer; and he smiled a little, as he did, which would have been unnerving if I impressed easily.
“An intelligent man,” Green said softly. “Possibly educated.”
“Flattery is probably not the approach you want to take, Mr. Green.”
“…How did you happen to, uh…intercept my daughter from those people?”
I shook my head. “That information is not included in the purchase price-shall we get on with business?”
His eyes tightened and he nodded. “Yes. Why don’t we?…And let me assure you, sir, that’s how I view this transaction-strictly business.”
Julie said, “Jesus Christ-now I’m a transaction. Can I get some fucking apple pie or something?”
Her long-suffering parent closed his eyes.
“Charm school didn’t take?” I asked him.
The millionaire flagged down a waitress, and said, “Apple pie for my daughter, please. And coffee. She likes it black.”
The waitress, a redhead who’d been beautiful fifteen years ago, scribbled, then looked at me over her pad. “Anything for you, honey?”
“No. Thanks.”
She disappeared.
Julie was sitting forward and grinning nastily at her old man. “Wow-I’m blown the fuck away!” Then she looked at me. “Son of a bitch knows how I like my coffee! ” And back at him: “How old am I, Jonah? What’s my boyfriend’s name?”
Her father gave her an expression as blank as brick. “You don’t have a boyfriend, not since I paid Martin Luther Van Dross to take a hike. He loved you a whole ten grand worth, angel. So, yes, I know you like it black.”
“You bastard,” she said, and her eyes were tearing. “You heartless fucking bastard…”
I said, “This is touching, and would make great reality TV; but if you two don’t mind-business?”
Julie glared out the window.
Green shifted his weight, his eyes unblinking but not exactly cold as they settled on me. “I just want you to know, Mr. Quarry, that there will be no efforts made against you. Not with the law, not privately-and a man with my resources could easily do that, either way. But you saved my daughter’s life…and I value that. I do value that.”
Julie’s jaw tightened but her eyes didn’t leave the window.
“Swell,” I said. “I value money. Where is it?”
Green lifted an eyebrow, offered up a half-smile that was wholly conspiratorial. “If you’ll reach under the table…I trust you prefer that I not reach under there myself…you will find a briefcase.”
My left hand found it easily. I hauled the brownleather attache up beside me, near the aisle, away from the girl.
I said, “I’d be annoyed if this contained pepper spray or dye or some such shit.”
“I’m sure you would be,” Green said, reasonably. “But you’ll find it’s all there-just as you asked…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Small bills. Unmarked.”
“Is this case locked?”
“No.”
“Well, your daughter’s handcuffs are,” I said, a foot in the aisle. “I’m going to the men’s room to count this. I’ll be back with the cuff key.”
Julie, eyes finally leaving the window, chimed in: “Good. That way I won’t have to stick my face in my pie…Mr. Quarry here loves it when I talk dirty, Daddy.”
Green ignored her, saying to me, “You really trust me, trust us, to be here when you get back?”
All sarcasm and attitude gone, serious as a heart attack, Julie leaned forward and gave her father the following advice: “Don’t fuck with this guy, Daddy…”
The magnate lost his cool momentarily: “Why-didn’t you?”
Her upper lip peeled back over teeth as white as they were feraclass="underline" “No…but not for lack of trying.”