I said, "Get real."
He said, "No, I'm serious."
"No offense, Buddy," I said, "but my jock strap could kick your ass."
"Swear to God, Mr. Creed. They're forcing me to kill people."
"Who is?"
"There's a website, Wishlist.bz. They grant wishes."
"To dying children?"
"No, not like that. You get four wishes, anything you want. But then they start making you pay them back by digging graves and killing people."
I frowned. "Buddy, your bullshit call ruined my perfect evening."
Buddy lowered his voice to a whisper. "I can pay you a half million dollars to protect Lissie."
"Who's Lissie?"
"My wife."
I didn't need the money, but half a million dollars was a staggering amount to a guy like Buddy Pancake.
"I forgot where you work," I said.
To someone on his end, Buddy said, "You can have all the money in my bag if you'll give me two minutes alone." There was a short pause, and then to me he said, "I'm a loan officer at Midwest Commercial Savings and Loan, here in town."
"You embezzled how much altogether?"
"It's not like that. The Wish List people gave me the money."
"That was one of your wishes?"
"Yes, sir."
"Bullshit."
"No, I swear."
"Buddy, I'm not in the mood."
"What do you mean?"
"No one wishes for a half million dollars. You probably asked for a million."
He paused before saying, "I was hoping to keep some of it."
"Who are we dealing with?"
"You mean in the company? The Wish List people?"
"Yeah."
"I only know a guy named Rudy, and a limo driver named Perkins. But this is an extremely powerful group of people, Mr. Creed."
"Yeah, Perkins the limo driver sounds terrifying."
"I'm serious, God damn it!"
He couldn't be. "Give me a for instance, besides the money."
"One of my wishes was to have sex with Jinny Kidwell."
"The actress?"
"Yes, sir."
"And did you?"
"Yes, sir."
"No shit?"
"I swear. But then they made me kill this bastard ex-friend of mine in a fight tonight. He raped my wife and I killed him. They say I still owe them another payment for the wishes they granted. And they threatened my wife. You're the only one I can turn to. You've got to help me."
"Are you willing to part with the full million?"
He sighed. "If that's what it takes."
"Is your life in danger?"
"I'm pretty sure it is."
"You had sex with Jinny Kidwell."
"Yes, sir."
"Where can we meet?"
"They've got cameras in my house, wiretaps on my phones."
"The phone you're using is tapped?"
"No. I'm using a stranger's phone. But they'll be back any minute."
"I'll be at your place by six a.m."
"Let me give you my address."
"Save your breath. I've got people. What were your other wishes?"
"They're coming. I gotta go."
Chapter 2
I try not to judge people. I really do try.
But if you're recruiting a loser army, Buddy Pancake is the first guy you want. Still, I'm willing to protect him and his wife for two reasons:
The first is Buddy's sister, Lauren.
Lauren Jeter had been a close friend for many years. She was an extraordinary hooker, whose client list included half of Cincinnati's movers and shakers. When Governor Eliot Spitzer's prostitution scandal broke in New York, certain Cincinnati lawmakers worried for their reputations. A few went so far as to threaten Lauren to keep her mouth shut in the event local news reporters decided to investigate the prostitution situation in Cincinnati. Concerned for her safety, Lauren told Buddy if anything ever happened to her, he should contact me.
Something did happen.
She got murdered.
Knowing the Cincinnati cops wouldn't dig too deeply into her case, I took it upon myself to track down her killer. It took me less than two days to find him: not a paranoid politician, as I'd suspected, but a sniveling real estate salesman with anger issues. I devoted two full days to the task of making him pay for what he'd done.
For the bulk of my life, my closest female friends have been hookers and killers, and if you want to judge me by that, go for it.
But don't judge them.
And especially don't judge Lauren Jeter.
Lauren had been a terrific provider. She was always happy to see me, always made me feel wanted. She was a gifted listener, an excellent therapist who tried her best to understand me. At one point, Lauren endured a great deal of pain on my behalf, in order to help me convince my ex-wife to break off her engagement to a guy who was all wrong for her. Like the finest women who've touched my life, Lauren was so much more than a caring companion, great conversationalist, or good lay. She excelled at not judging me, and making our time together memorable. She was one of the highlights of my life, and I miss her terribly.
All that's left of her is her kid brother, Buddy Pancake.
Doesn't hardly seem fair, does it?
The second reason I'm willing to help Buddy: my girlfriend, Rachel Case, lives in Louisville, and I haven't seen her in months. It would be nice to spend some time with her, and see how she's doing.
It was nine-thirty. I was in Chicago, with access to a number of private jets that could get me to Louisville in under an hour, so I had a world of time before our six a.m. meeting.
I fired up my laptop and typed wishlist.bz in the address bar. Once on the website, I read the promos and comments but decided not to make any wishes. Instead, I called my old friend, Lou Kelly. When he answered I said, "Where's Jinny Kidwell?"
"The actress?"
"Uh huh."
"You want to hold or have me call you back?"
"Call me back. I've got to pack."
"Gimme ten minutes."
Twenty years ago, Lou and I worked as hired assassins for the CIA in Europe. I was early twenties, Lou was forty. We survived that gig for twelve years and eventually made our way stateside, where I landed a job killing terrorists for Homeland Security. Lou headed up my intelligence team. At the height of the action, I had a dozen assassins on my team, helping me keep democracy safe. During my down time I performed freelance hits for the mob.
Six months ago I managed to steal billions of dollars from some of the world's most lethal people. After banking the big score, I retired from the government and mob killing jobs. I'd been told that once in, you can never get out alive, but I had a plan. First, I told both organizations I would consider future requests for work. Second, I set up five hundred million dollar annuities for Darwin, my Homeland Security boss, and Sal Bonadello, crime boss for the Midwestern United States. The money would be paid to their numbered accounts monthly by my lawyers, a million dollars a month for the rest of their lives, and their kids' lives, with one stipulation: all future payments would cease upon my death.
My plan worked.
Darwin and Sal no longer want to kill me.
They want to protect me!
Lou Kelly was a trusted member of the team that helped me obtain the huge score, and because of all our years together, his share of the take was also five hundred million, all in cash. Unfortunately, during the heist, the size of the prize got to Lou, and he tried to kill me and take my share.
Despite our trust issues, Lou and I were able to rebuild a working relationship. I let him keep his half-billion dollars from the heist, along with his life, and in return he provides the intelligence and computer expertise I require from time to time.
Lou is the best in the business. He had the answer on Jinny before I finished packing, and that's fast, since I travel light.
"She's on location in Hannibal, Missouri."