“Actually, I’m here to talk, and you’re here to listen, if you don’t mind,” the man said. He was about fifty-five, with a hard face, a hatchet nose, and reddish gray hair planed into a flattop haircut. Like the others, he was wearing a windbreaker, khaki trousers, and military boots. There was a small black knife in a pouch on his right boot.
The other guy whose face I could see looked Italian. He was much younger, maybe in his late twenties. He was obviously trying to look like some kind of unblinking, lizard-eyed, hard-boiled young soldato in a crime family. He was succeeding. All three of them were in shape, with flat bellies, big chests, and heavy shoulders under those oversized windbreakers. I wondered how long the young guy could hold that heavy. 45 out at arm’s length like that. My arm was getting tired just watching him do it.
“A lot of that going around tonight,” I said, trying to look more relaxed than I felt. I could not possibly get to my gun before the guy in the chair could do some damage. “First the FBI, then-”
“We know,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively. He had a large gold university ring on his left hand. “Especially, we know Dr. Quartermain. That’s kinda why we’re here, Lieutenant. Dr. Quartermain’s operating way off his patch, talking to a civilian like you.”
“So, what, he’s operating on your patch, perhaps? And who is ‘we’-you got a mouse in your pocket?”
The man gave me a patient, mildly annoyed look that said, I’m not done talking and you’re not done listening. The hoodlum wannabe shifted in his chair, as if waiting for the command to jump up and bite me or something, but that. 45 never wavered. The third man continued to take in the sights out on the river, but he had one hand hanging casually in the folds of his jacket.
“We are the other half of security at the Helios power plant,” he said. “The so-called physical security half. We’re the guys who deal with the Navy SEALs when they run federally sponsored intrusion drills on the plant.”
I guess I was supposed to be impressed, but I was getting tired of standing at the door. I waved my right hand to include everyone in the room. “This is a little extreme for a bunch of rent-a-cops, isn’t it?”
“Ow,” Hatchet-Nose said. “Now you’ve hurt my feelings. But let me make sure the message gets through. You need to do two things: go away, and stop talking to your new best friend, Dr. Aristotle Quartermain.”
“According to Dr. Quartermain, you work for him.”
“Yes, he would probably say that. But security in an atomic power plant is a complex business. Multi-layered, if it’s done right. Lots of need-to-know barriers. The administrative wiring diagram doesn’t always tell the whole tale.”
“Let me get this straight-you’re security contractors at a commercial power plant who’ve followed me, broken into my room, with at least one gun visible, and the reason I shouldn’t break out my cell phone and dial 911 is…?”
“First of all, your cell phone is over there on the desk, and we have the battery. And young Billy here isn’t going to let you go over there and get it or anything else.”
I looked at young Billy, whose arm remained straight out with nary a tremor. That really was impressive.
“Secondly, your ‘going away’ is the operative part. It’s really good advice. We’re sorry for your loss and all that. We don’t know what happened, either, but what we do know is that the bad shit, whatever it was, didn’t come through my perimeter.”
My Bureau, and now my perimeter. “It came through somebody’s perimeter,” I said. “You got a name? Cops’ll want to know.”
He laughed softly. “You’re not going to call the cops, Mr. Richter. Unless you startle young Billy here, nothing’s going to happen. We’re going to leave, and you’re going to pack. Feel free to spend the night, but tomorrow, you’re going back to your fascinating private-eye work in beautiful downtown Triboro, North Carolina.”
“And if I don’t?” I said.
“There will be unpleasant consequences. The array of federal agencies involved in keeping nuclear power plants safe is, let’s see, how shall I put this-legion?”
“Oh,” I said. “Legion. Dozens of inept bureaucracies, tripping over each other while fucking up by the numbers? That legion? When you said unpleasant, I thought you meant Billy the Kid here.”
His semijocular, we’re-all-buddies-in-this-together expression slipped a little. “That can be arranged, too,” he said. “He’s young, but he’s impressive.”
“Holding that. 45 straight out like that for all this time-that’s impressive,” I said. “But I’d guess he needs two other guys for anything personal.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed. I’d hurt some more feelings.
The third man turned around at last. He, too, was lean from top to bottom, in his early forties, with close-cropped blond hair and the face of a Nazi death camp commandant, complete with disturbing pale blue eyes. “You can try me if you’d like,” he said.
“Actually, I prefer girls,” I said. I stepped to one side and held open the door. I saw Billy’s trigger finger, which had been resting alongside the trigger guard, slip into firing position. For some reason, though, I didn’t think he’d shoot. They hadn’t come here to shoot people. This time, anyway.
“Why don’t you clowns just leave?” I said. “And now’d be nice. You’re rent-a-cops, and you have zero authority outside of your contract area. The fact that you’re even here means you probably do have a hole in your so-called perimeter, so why don’t you go work on that instead of bothering Mr. Hilton’s paying guests?”
The older guy sniffed and then got up, zipping up his windbreaker. “Okay, Mr. Richter. We’ll leave. But trust me, you will, too. C’mon, people.”
He walked past me without a second glance, as did the SS officer look-alike. Billy sat in his chair for one second longer than necessary, and then pocketed the. 45 as he got up.
“That must be a relief,” I said. “My arm was getting tired just watching you.”
Billy sauntered by, never taking his eyes off my face. “Later,” he muttered.
“Earlier is better than later,” I said to his back. “That is, if you’re man enough without your ace buddies there. Nighty-night. Kid.”
I closed the door and slid the bolt and chain. I went into the bathroom and checked for my weapon. It was there, but the magazine was gone. So they had found it. I picked up my cell phone, and yes, it felt lighter than before. I picked up each of the two house phones, but neither of them worked, either. Thorough contractors, I’d give them that. If I wanted to squawk, I’d have to leave the room, and I really didn’t want to venture too far from my room just now. The best I could hope for was that Billy would come back to prove he was a man. I decided to prepare for that possibility.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door. I knew better than to peek through the little plastic optic. Our homicide crew had once found a drug dealer pinned to his hotel door by an ice pick that had been hammered into his eye through that little piece of plastic.
“Who is it?” I said in a singsong voice.
“It’s later,” a voice replied, and I recognized young Billy. Oh, good.
“Well, Billy,” I said, “you surprise me again. Why don’t you come on in and get your ass kicked.”
I stepped across the alcove, staying underneath the eyehole, removing the chain as I went. Then I crouched in the closet on the other side of the room door and wedged my shoulder against the wall. I unsnapped the dead bolt, and then, putting one foot about in the middle of the door, I reached over and pushed the door handle down.
He did exactly what I expected him to do, which was to kick the door as hard as he could the moment he heard that handle unlatch. If I’d been standing where someone normally stands when he opens a hotel room door, I’d have been hit in the face with the edge of said door and probably knocked unconscious. As it was, I was able to let the door swing halfway in against my cocked leg, and then I sent it back in his direction with the full force of my right leg. The edge caught him in the forehead and knocked him all the way across the hall, blood spurting from his nose and forehead as he slumped, cross-eyed and barely conscious, into a sitting position against the opposite wall, his scrawny ass on the room service tray. I reached up to the closet shelf, picked up the hallway fire extinguisher I’d lifted ten minutes earlier, and flooded his face with dry powder. He hadn’t let go of his . 45, but dropped it now to protect his eyes.