We spent the next hour shooting hoops. By the end, her free throw percentage was about where I expected, but she was an absolute beast at dunking the ball from Daddy’s shoulders. That night, we took her to her favorite restaurant for a proper birthday dinner of pancakes and ice cream with chocolate milk. She beat me in two out of three games of placemat tic-tac-toe, and I only let her win one of them. At bedtime, we tucked her in with not only her ragged teddy bear, but her brand-new basketball as well.
After we shut her door, Denise helped me slather my finger with dish soap to slide my wedding ring over my badly swollen knuckle. For a minute I thought I might have to go to the ER just so they could cut it off, but finally it came free. Denise scolded me for being a stupid man, and I suggested she was even stupider for marrying me. She didn’t put up much of an argument.
Before I went to bed, I set the ring in the top compartment of her jewelry box. A month later, when the swelling had subsided, I discovered the ring no longer fit. Likely the result of my knuckle healing haphazardly, without the proper medical treatment. I promised Denise I’d get it resized at the jeweler near my office during my lunch break one day that week.
As far as I knew, the ring was still sitting in the same spot in her jewelry box, although I doubted it. More likely it was displayed in a glass case at a pawn shop somewhere, or perhaps buried in mud at the bottom of the Delaware River. One place it wasn’t for sure was on my finger.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t still feel it there. Especially when I closed a deal. On those occasions, it felt like a vise, trying to crush my finger all over again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Really, we have to do this again?” I asked.
Colin sneered and unbuttoned my suit jacket. He reached inside and pulled the gun out of its shoulder holster. Unlike my preferred Glock, the shaft of this one was bright orange, and the word Nerf was printed in yellow block letters on a sticker glued to the butt.
“Careful,” I said, “it’s loaded.”
Colin tossed the dart gun on the floor, but behind him his partner laughed. Like before, they allowed me to keep my keys, wallet, and phone. (The original one. Sergei’s phone was beneath the floorboards in my closet, secured inside a small electronic safe along with my collection of passports and $10,000 in various currencies.)
“Let’s go,” Colin said, and started walking down the hall.
“Where to this time?” I asked, shutting and locking my newly repaired apartment door.
“You’ll see.”
“Did you buy me more scotch? Last time I got scotch.”
“Don’t you ever stop talking?” he asked.
“That’s what the scotch is for.” I jerked my head over my right shoulder and said, “Who’s the new guy?”
“That’s Nigel.”
“Nigel,” I said, turning and offering my hand, which he shook cautiously. “I’m Rick. Do you know if they bought me scotch?”
It was the same place as before. Same house on Albert Street. Same hidden corridor. Same room. So as not to break precedent, I even sat in the same chair.
It made sense. By limiting what I knew about their operation, they also limited what I would be able to tell anyone should I ever decide to talk to the wrong people. I didn’t care where we met, honestly. The plane did have scotch. Macallan 18 again. And this time, I helped myself to four glasses.
“Well done, Mr. Carter,” Trish said as she gathered the three candidate profile sheets into a neat stack. “We’d heard rumors of your ties to Ghost and The Persian but couldn’t be sure they were true. The Board will be very pleased. This,” she said, tapping the pages in front of her, “is the reason we wanted to work with you so badly.”
“I thought it was my ability to find people who are good at covering their tracks,” I said. The last few words slid a little bit against the alcohol that coated my tongue, but I didn’t care about that either.
“Well I should say you succeeded,” she said with a laugh. “Even this one.” She held up Ian’s profile.
“He doesn’t have the résumé of the other two, but he does have the talent,” I said, getting defensive for no reason. “And he’s the best option within driving distance of the London targets.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Trish said. “Leon raved about his work, as you know.” She tucked his profile back with the others. “As per our agreement, we will deposit the second half of your fee within twenty-four hours.”
“Once I confirm it’s there, I’ll connect you with each candidate in three separate, encrypted chat rooms.” She knew this already, but it felt good to reiterate the rote mechanics of my process. My attempt at convincing myself this was just another job, rather than a potential turning point for my entire career. My entire life. “You talk details and timelines with them. I don’t need to know anything and I don’t want to know anything. I step back. When each job is completed, you text me and disable the chat room. Should something go wrong, let me know so I can work on replacing the candidate. Cops get involved, then and only then do you tell me what went down so I can deal with the fallout.”
“Yes, your ‘No Cops Guarantee.’ Leon was particularly impressed with that part of your service agreement. How exactly do you back it up?”
“I’ve never had to, but when it happens, I’ll let you know.”
“For your sake, Mr. Carter, let’s hope the first time isn’t this time. If these three pan out,” she said, sliding their pages into a large yellow envelope, “we have plenty of other work to keep you occupied. I hope you don’t intend to take your money and run.”
That was exactly what I intended to do, as soon as I received confirmation that all three jobs had been completed successfully, but I wanted this meeting to end so I merely said, “You know how to reach me.”
Trish grinned, then stood and left. And just like that, six agents—six of the good guys—were living on borrowed time. They had what, two weeks? Maybe less?
I needed a shower. I needed a drink.
I needed to get the fuck away. From everything.
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was a 3:45 afternoon flight to Mexico City, and a 6:00 to Cozumel. I had told myself I would book the first flight out to anywhere in Mexico, but Cozumel was on the coast. I decided the beach was worth the extra couple hours’ wait. After all, that’s why airport bars were invented.
I had promised Trish that I would be available until the contracts were completed, which was what kept me from hopping the first flight last night to a Mexican beach, somewhere to lie low while I figured out my next move or until I died from alcohol poisoning, whichever came first. But that promise applied to my typical jobs with typical scum-of-the-earth targets. After a night of sleep that came in fits and starts, when every pop or crack from the walls as my apartment settled sounded like a gunshot, I knew I couldn’t wait that long. It wasn’t that I was scared—Colin’s car was no longer at my curb, the pile of cigarette butts the only monument to our time together—but I couldn’t escape the feeling that everything had changed, and not for the better. I needed to sort out what that meant someplace where no one knew who I was.
In the morning, I took the $10,000 I had left over from the amount I’d withdrawn to pay Sergei, combined it with the $10,000 I had in my safe, gathered up all my passports, packed a small bag, paid my landlord the next three months’ rent in advance (which still was less than a single mortgage payment on my old house), did the same for the parking garage where I kept the Audi I never used, and took an Uber to the airport before noon.
I didn’t care if Trish ever deposited the other half of my fee. I didn’t care if my candidates pulled off their jobs or not. I didn’t care if they got busted and I had to live up to my guarantee for the first time ever. I didn’t care if Trish had Colin and Nigel, the Downton Abbey twins, follow me all the way to Mexico and sip margaritas ten feet from my beach chair.
I didn’t care about anything anymore. Except what I was going to drink while I waited for my flight. It was the closest I’d ever come to doing more than taste the barrel of my Glock. I still couldn’t pull the trigger myself, but for the first time, I didn’t care if the gun went off by itself.
