by Jon F. Merz
Stahl hoped the tail wasn't part of a team.
Otherwise Stahl had just screwed himself.
But somehow, he didn't believe it.
Something felt different.
He almost smiled. That link was turning him into his own worst enemy. "Felt" indeed. He could have started his own 1-900 number and charged a mint for psychic readings.
He rounded the corner.
Looked.
And frowned.
No one was there.
He sighed.
"You taught me that technique. Remember?"
That voice.
He turned.
Karen.
She stood off in the doorway to the garage, shrouded in shadow, a smile splayed across her face.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Did I spook you?"
"Damned straight you did. I could have killed you, I could have-"
"Oh be quiet, Ernst. You wouldn't have killed me without figuring out who I was first. You know that."
Stahl stopped and looked at her. "Just what do you think you're doing here, Karen?"
She stepped out of the doorway. "I need a little excitement in my life."
"Great. Rent a movie."
"You always did have such a dry wit."
Stahl glanced around. "I'm not in the mood for this."
"Let me help."
Stahl's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"
"I could be a big help to you."
"Hell no." Stahl shook his head. "This is ridiculous. This isn't some little field trip I'm working on here, Karen. The welfare of my son depends on me completing this assignment successfully. I'm not about to wager that on violating my own rules of operational conduct."
"Why not?" Her eyelids dipped and she gave him a seductive smile. "You've violated other rules before."
"That was a long time ago, Karen."
"Not that long."
"Are we going to go through this all again?"
"Maybe."
"Not," said Stahl. "I don't need your help, Karen. You did that errand for me and that was great. You did a good job. I appreciate what you did. But I'm not about to take you on this assignment."
"What if I said Ôplease'?"
"No matter. Besides, you said yourself that me showing up was dangerous to everything you've spent years building up here. You've got a job, a home, a life here now. You really want to throw that up in the air just to help me?"
Karen looked around them. "I haven't had a life here, Ernst. I've had an illusion. I've lived for years wondering what happened to you. I've spent nights and days wrapped up in the fantasy that maybe you'd come back some day. That you'd show up in my life again. And maybeÉ" She trailed off.
Stahl watched her. This was not good. He didn't need Karen getting wrapped up in him right now. The clock was ticking on his operational window. Things would accelerate now.
But could he really afford to tell her to bugger off?
Risking her wrath by shunning her might be even more dangerous. She would then become a legitimate liability. Stahl would need to kill her on principle.
And he didn't want to.
He sighed. "I am not happy about this."
She looked up. Her eyes gleamed. "You mean it?"
"All right. But I mean this Karen, if I tell you to do something, you do it. This operation is not a democracy. I call all the shots and you do exactly as you're told. Otherwise, the ending won't be good."
She smiled. "You wouldn't kill me, would you, Ernst?"
"I wouldn't like it," said Stahl. "But if I had toÉ"
Chapter Eighteen
"Are you sure?"
Frank sipped the orange juice and nodded. "I know the seal when I see it, Gia. How many times have we watched the State of the Union speech on TV or seen the president give a speech with that thing hanging there?"
Gia smiled. "I forgot what a political junkie you are."
"Don't confuse the issue. That guy is after the president!"
She leaned back, stretching her arms over her head and yawning. "You don't know that for a fact."
"I saw the papers."
"Could you read them?"
Frank stopped drinking. "No."
"So all you saw was the seal. That could have meant almost anything. It might have been an invitation to an official state dinner. It could have been a thank-you letter, it could have-"
"Gia."
"What?"
"You haven't seen this guy. I have. I've looked into this man's eyes. I've seen what he is. He's not someone you'd invite to the White House."
"And you recognize this how?"
Frank got off the bed. "Because, Gia. Because he's like me." He walked to the bureau. "Is that what you want me to say? That I'm a killer? A stone-cold killer? Well, I am. And so is this guy." He shook his head. "He's up to no good."
Gia watched him. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you equate yourself to someone else."
"Yeah. Maybe. But this guy is different."
"What was he doing when you saw him?"
"I told you. He had some type of makeup on. He was pretty involved in the process of getting it onto his face."
"Did you recognize who he looked like?"
"There was a photo," said Frank. "But I'll be damned if I could place the face. Didn't look like anyone famous."
"What else happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"When you came back to the room here, you were holding your arms up defensively, like you were trying to ward off something."
"He had a gun, Gia."
"He was going to shoot you?"
"I don't think he could have shot me there, but he held it up and made the gesture as if he was going to try."
"So he knew you were there."
"Yeah. He showed me the papers."
"The ones with the seal?"
Frank nodded. "When I couldn't read them because they were folded, he opened the drawer, took them out and then showed them to me."
"So, he wanted you to see the pages?"
"Maybe."
"Well, that just goes to show you that there's nothing to this."
Frank poured himself another glass of orange juice and took a long sip. "What do you mean by that?"
"Why would a professional killer, someone professional enough to get some measure of respect from you-"
Frank set the glass down. "I never said I respected him."
"Don't have to. I can hear it in your voice. You know this guy is good."
She was right, of course. "Yeah. He's good."
"Why would a pro like him give away whatever he's planning to do? That doesn't make any sense. It would be like committing suicide, don't you think?"
"I guess." Frank frowned. "Maybe he's dropping a challenge."
"A challenge? What is that bullshit?"
"It's not bullshit, Gia. People like this guy, and even me, we don't do stuff like this without good reason. I remember Moe-"
"Not Moe again."
Frank looked at her. "What the hell is your problem?"
"Every time you've got to justify something, Moe comes into the picture."
"You ever think about maybe I'm not justifying it to you? Maybe I need to do this for me? And excuse me if Moe happened to teach me more about life than anyone else I've ever known."
"You don't mean that."
"You're damned straight I do. My mother was a racked-out heroin addict who spent her days shoving crap into her veins. My father left before I even had a chance to thank him for his Y chromosome. Who did that leave? No one. Not until Moe."
Gia fell silent.
Frank sighed. "Forget it, okay? All I was going to say was that Moe told me once that there's a code among professional killers."
"What kind of code?"
"Respect is earned in this business based only on skill and reputation. Names, degrees, all that other bullshit that normal life seems to crave don't matter one stinking bit in the
circles. The players know who can operate. Maybe this was this guy's way of acknowledging me andÉ"
"And what?"
"And suggesting we meet."
"What – to kill each other?"
Frank shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Not yet at least. Maybe he just wants to figure me out as much as I'd like to figure him out."
"So, what, you guys meet for coffee, is that it? Talk about the weather and then compare notes on how to best kill people?"
"You know Gia, I'll bet you'd have a lot more friends if you weren't so damned sarcastic all the time."
"Who needs friends?"
"Not you apparently."
"Get back to the assassin and stop worrying about my social life. What did this guy look like?"
"He was wearing makeup, Gia, remember?"
"Yeah, that's right. You don't think you'd recognize him if you saw him on the street?"
"I saw his face once. Yesterday when I was over on Beacon Hill. A vision. Maybe. Hell, I don't know. I don't think it's his face that I'd remember, anyway."
"No?"
"It's his eyes. I've never seen such gray eyes before."
"He could disguise them with contacts, couldn't he?"
"Yeah, he could."
"So, we're screwed."
"'We' aren't anything, Gia. This is my deal."
"Well, forgive me for reminding you of this, James Bond, but you've got most, if not all, of the Patrisi crime family that going to want to rip you from limb to limb in short time if they get wind of where you are. The streets are probably crowded with locals and out-of-town guns for hire as we speak."
Frank nodded. "Yep. They probably are."
"And you're going to go after this guy anyway, aren't you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe two years of being your girlfriend. That might count for starters."
"It might." Even now, he thought, she couldn't bring herself to say she'd loved him.
"Other than that, I can tell because you've got that gleam in your eye."
"Gleam?"
"Yeah. You read too many of those damned detective novels and you start thinking you're going to go off and save the world. I know you, Frank. I know what's running through your head right now. You think this is going to be like all those daydreams you've ever had where you save the world and become a hero."
"You don't know a damned thing about my daydreams, Gia."
"Don't I? You think I can't see how badly you want to not be someone who has to live in the shadows? You think that I can't see the yearning you have to be an upright kind of guy? That's why those stupid books appeal to you so much."
"They're not stupid."
"They're stupid if they give you permission to act like a suicidal fool."
"It might not be suicidal. This guy might not be as good as I think he is."
"The fact you're even entertaining the notion that he is good, means he's better than you're letting on."
Frank didn't say anything.
"You're scared."
He looked at her. "What?"
"You heard me, Frank."
"Just because I don't agree with your opinion, you think that automatically makes me a coward?"
"I never called you a coward. I said you were scared. There's a big difference."
"I hope so."
"But I've never seen you scared before. You've never been like this. Even yesterday when we had people shooting at us and even later when you knew that everything you've worked for is about to go belly-up, there was no fear there. But nowÉ"
"But now?"
"Now, you've seen this guy. You've both seen the other. Now it's different. You're scared."
Frank put his glass in the sink and ran some water in it. "I'd be a fool if I wasn't."
"You might be a fool if you go after this guy."
"I might be a bigger fool if I don't."
"We could go around about this for hours."
"Yeah. We could. But did you ever think about what this guy could be up to? What if he wants to kill the president? What if he wants to do something worse?"
"What about it?"
"Someone ought to stop him."
"And you think a Mafia hitman is just the person for the job?" She smirked. "Give it to the cops, Frank."
"Please. The cops couldn't handle this."
"So, call the Feds. Get the Secret Service involved in this. They're into this stuff, aren't they?"
"Yeah."
"Then let them handle it."
"I don't think they can."
"Oh, but you think you could?"
"I don't know."
"Jesus Christ, I'm glad I stopped loving you a long time ago."
Frank looked at her for a minute. "I wish I could say the same thing, Gia, I really do." He turned and left the room.
"Where are you going?"
He stopped. "I've got to see him."
"This is insane. He'll kill you."
"Maybe he won't."
"You think someone like him, as professional as he is, is just going to meet you for a drink and then get up, say good-bye and walk away?"
"Stranger things have happened, Gia. After all, I fell in love with you, didn't I?"
"What's that got to do with getting your head shot off?'
"Just goes to show that wacky shit happens. And sometimes, even the best of us, can't help but make a big mistake."
Gia looked away. "What about me?"
"You stay here."
"I can't stay here forever, Frank. What the hell am I supposed to do while you're off fulfilling some silly ideal?"
He thought about debating her definition of Ôsilly,' but decided against it. It would waste more time. "Well, you can go for a walk or go shoppingÉ.you know, if you're feeling particularly lucky. Or if you've got some super skill at avoiding bullets that I don't know about."
"Funny."
"Or you can stay here until I get back."
"You think you're coming back?"
"I don't know."
"And if you don't?"
"You'll figure something out, Gia." He frowned. "You always do."
Frank walked toward the elevator and pushed the button. Behind him, he heard Gia's voice.
Quiet.
Unsure.
Was that the first time he'd ever heard her like that?
"Be careful, Frank."
Chapter Nineteen
"How'd the latex work out for you?"
Stahl glanced around the interior of the coffee shop on Newbury Street. A few people lingered, mostly absorbed in reading foreign newspapers or typing on laptop computers. A couple of college students perused the paperback racks a few feet away. But overall, no one paid them any attention.
He turned back to Karen. "It worked fine. No problems at all."
"You still owe me for that, you know. That stuff's not cheap."
"I'll pay you."
"Ernst." She smiled. "I was kidding."
"I'll still pay you."
"Suit yourself."
He took a sip of the hot chocolate and tasted the frothy milk before the bitter sweet chocolate overpowered it. Not as good as what he could get back in Germany, but almost.
Karen leaned over the table. "Can you tell me what's going on, exactly?"
Stahl wiped his mouth on a brown napkin that proudly announced it was made from recycled paper. "This really isn't the place to discuss business."
Karen leaned back. "Oh, come on. I'm sacrificing an awful lot to be here with you, you know. The very least you could do is fill me in on the situation." She sighed. "I already know it involves you impersonating someone."
Stahl checked his watch. He wanted to call Alois again and see how he was doing. By this time tomorrow or the next day, things would be in full swing. Another day beyond that and Stahl would be back in Germany and Alois would be undergoing his operation. The sooner he got out of here, the better.
He brought his attention back t
o Karen. "First of all, you're not sacrificing anything. You made the decision to get involved. You could be home now or teaching your classes if you really wanted to. I didn't put a gun to your head and demand your presence."
She blinked. "Fine."
"Just don't make a big show of it is all. You did me a favor, true. But it should have stopped there. The fact that you're involved now is because I allowed you to be a part of it."
"Well. Thank you."
Stahl shook his head. Karen's words were clipped and sharp. "This is getting us nowhere. Forget I said anything."
She sighed. "No. You're right. It feels like it's been so long, maybe I've forgotten the appropriate way to behave."
"I'm out of practice, too," said Stahl.
"Can we start over?"
He smirked. "The latex worked fine. And yes – it does involve me disguising myself as someone. Are you happy now?"
"Not one bit. I want details."
"You don't get details."
"Why not?"
"Because no one gets details. I operate on need-to-know and you don't need to know."
"You're no fun."
"Since when is survival supposed to be fun? I'm trying to stay alive long enough to get home to my son and see he gets the operation he needs."
"You keep mentioning your son." Karen frowned. "What operation are you talking about?"
He'd slipped. Stahl hadn't wanted to let Karen in on his troubles, but he could remember now that over the past day or so, he'd mentioned Alois. A lot. And just now with mention of the operation. He chastised himself for his sloppy tradecraft. Someone else might forgive themselves, but if anything threatened Alois' welfare, Stahl never would.
"My son needs an organ transplant."
"What kind of organ."
"I don't really want to get too deeply involved in discussing it, Karen."
"Well, why hasn't he had the operation yet?"
"It's incredibly expensive."
"What about insurance?"
"I didn't have any."
"What about your own money? We made enough on some of those jobs-"
"-to get by. That's what we made. Remember? We were young idealists who would have carried the banner for any cause we felt warmed our hearts. We weren't the professionals that we are today."
She was quiet for a moment. "Is that why you took this job?"
