by K. W. Jeter
Which at the moment was lying on my shoulders like wet snakes. What a bullshit artist.
“I’m a little disturbed by that gun, though.” McIntyre frowned. “Where did you get that?”
From the corner of my eye, I glanced over at Michael. He was watching me with a hard, slit-eyed gaze. Waiting to hear what I said.
That was what told me. That McIntyre still didn’t know. Michael hadn’t filled his boss in on whatever he’d found out, about what was going on with Cole and me. He’d been operating on his own, disobeying McIntyre’s instructions to just ignore the crippled hit man they’d tossed aside. So Michael was on the hook – if he told McIntyre what he knew, he’d also be revealing that he’d disobeyed orders. We both knew that McIntyre didn’t like that sort of thing.
“I had it.” I turned my gaze back to McIntyre. “From before. When I was still working for you. I got scared, working there so late all the time. So I bought a gun.”
“I’ll say. That’s a very large and powerful weapon, Kim.” He sounded as though he were talking to a child. “Do you know how to use it?”
I nodded. “They showed me. When I bought it.”
“Well . . .” He swapped smiles with Michael, then looked at me again. “There’s more to it than just that. You could hurt yourself with a gun that big. They should’ve sold you something more appropriate . . . for your size, I mean.”
Up yours. I thought that, but didn’t say anything.
“Plus . . . aren’t you underage? There are laws about gun purchases, you know.”
“It was at a pawnshop. I had to pay extra.”
“Kim –” He shook his head. “You could’ve gotten into a lot of trouble doing that. If you were afraid, you should’ve come and talked to me.”
Like this was doing me a lot of good now. I didn’t recall him getting all worried about how late I was at the office, back when I’d been working for him.
By now, my head was still hurting, but my brain functions had cleared up – enough to think that this was kind of a weird situation. Here I was in a room with the guy I was getting ready to kill, and I was hearing advice from him on the best gun for somebody like me to buy, plus the proper way to go about it, in order to stay legal. That, plus the style comments on my makeover, made me think that maybe the world was overstocked with irony.
“But that’s the past,” said McIntyre. “We need to move on. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. The gun, I mean.”
I suddenly realized he was speaking the truth. He really didn’t know.
“Yeah –” I nodded. “I got overexcited.”
“It happens. Don’t worry about it.” The nice-boss smile again. “So even though things got kind of confused tonight – and that’s as much my fault as anybody’s – I’m glad we’re having this chance to talk. Because there really are some matters that I wanted to discuss with you.”
Hm. “Like what?”
“Well, Kim . . . this is kind of hard for me to admit. But the more I thought about what happened before – I mean, when you were, uh, terminated from the company – the more I came to believe that I had seriously underestimated you. And your capabilities.”
You have no idea, I silently told him.
“And . . . how useful you could still be. For me and the company. Even without you handling the accountant duties that you used to. I think . . . there could be another position for you. An important one.”
The weirdness level just went up another notch.
“Have a seat.” He pointed to the empty chair closest to him. “We need to talk about this.”
I sat down. With my hands in my lap.
“Would you like some?” He held up the bottle.
God, no. “No thanks.”
He poured himself some more, then leaned back in his chair.
“Here’s the deal. I know you might find it hard to believe, but there are people who . . .” Deep, serious frown, as though he were contemplating the sheer unfairness of life. “Let’s just say they have some grudges against me.”
Imagine that.
Let me stop right here and tell you what I’ve discovered about the pricks of the world. There are pricks who are so stupid, they don’t even know when they’ve hurt other people. And then there are pricks who know they’ve hurt other people – and they enjoy it.
But the biggest, the worst pricks of all – the absolute most prixelated – are the ones who know they’ve hurt other people, really badly, and then they are sincerely baffled as to why the rest of humanity, including the people they’ve hurt, doesn’t absolutely love their ass.
They really just don’t get it. It’s like something missing inside their heads, like being color-blind or something. It’s just . . . not there.
That’s the kind of guy McIntyre was.
Which was kind of stupid of him, actually. Because it meant I was totally flying under his radar. What an idiot! I’ve just waved a freakin’ .357 in his face – and he can’t even imagine that somehow, some way, I just . . . might . . . not . . . like him. Even after he had me thrown out in the alley like a sack of trash. Even with me knowing that if and when he finds out that I stole all that money from his transfer accounts, using the passwords I rooked off of that old guy Pomeroy, he’ll have me killed without a second thought. Until that happens, he believes that all he has to do is flash me that BS nice-boss smile, then I’ll just melt into a grateful puddle. Just like when I’d still been Little Nerd Accountant Girl, working my butt off to keep his books balanced.
Fine – right about now, I was thinking that this is something I could use.
I leaned toward him, bringing my face close to his and looking straight into his eyes.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I brought my voice down low and husky as I can. “I’d really like to help, Mr. McIntyre.”
Where did that move come from? Beats me. But just goes to show that it’s not all about guns. At least not just the kind that shoots bullets.
“Who is it?” Even closer. “That you’re worried about?”
He nodded. He was glad there’s somebody who understands him.
“Cole,” he said. “That’s who.”
I frowned and let my forehead go creased. “Why?”
“You heard what happened to him, didn’t you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “What happened?”
“Well . . . he got hurt. Pretty badly. I’m afraid he might think that somehow I’m to blame for it.”
Duh.
I glanced over at Michael, still standing at the other side of the room. His eyes narrowed even more as he looked back at me. There was a little secret between the two of us – which he wasn’t happy about. He couldn’t let on to his boss that I already knew about what had happened to Cole – what they’d done to him – without also letting on that he’d been doing stuff behind McIntyre’s back.
So I’m still not sure that honesty is the best policy. But you can sure screw yourself up by thinking you’re smarter than you actually are.
I brought my gaze back to McIntyre. “So you think . . . he might try to do something to you?”
“Well, Cole is a dangerous guy. Or at least he used to be. Before his . . . accident. When it first happened, I didn’t believe I had anything to worry about. But since then . . . I’ve started to worry. About him. And what he might do.” He nodded toward Michael. “I really have to thank my security team for – you know – bringing the matter to my attention. But that’s their job, right? To worry about these things. That’s why it’s important to have good people working for you. Because even though I initially dismissed the possibility, the longer I thought about the concerns that Michael here had expressed to me, the more I started to come around to his point of view. I like to think that I’m the sort of flexible person who can admit when he’s wrong. That’s important in any organization. So yes, in answer to your question – I do think there’s a real potential for danger here. With Cole.”
“I see.”
He must’ve thought he was totally snowing me with this line.
“But what can I do, Mr. McIntyre? To help you?”
“I need somebody to keep an eye on him. Somebody who would be able to get past his defenses. Somebody he would trust.”
The weirdness dial now was approaching eleven.
“Somebody like you, Kim.”
“Me?” I made my eyes go wide as I could.
“Sure. Cole might be the most paranoid bastard on the face of the planet – but he’d never suspect somebody like you of being up to something.”
Somebody like me. If I hadn’t already made up my mind to kill this guy . . .
“So here’s what I was thinking of.” McIntyre actually laid his hand on my knee. “Let’s say we get word to Cole somehow, that because of the admittedly unfortunate way in which you left the company, you were really angry at me. To the point that you wanted to do something to me.”
“Like what?”
“Like kill me.”
I put my hand to my mouth in shock. “You’re kidding.”
“No, really – I think we could get this to fly. You have to understand the psychology of somebody like Cole. I know it’s a stretch for you – you’re just not that kind of person – but I know what he’s like. Very violent individual. Unstable – that’s why I had to get rid of him. I mean, dispense with his services for the company. Somebody like that just naturally assumes that everybody is as mean and vindictive as he is. So it’d be a very small step for him to believe that you’re capable of murder as well.”
“Gosh.” I remained sitting bolt upright in the chair, as though vast, evil landscapes had just been revealed to me.
“So. Cole thinks you want to kill me. Then he’ll want to partner up with you, so he’ll have a way of getting back at me. He’ll take you in and work with you – he’s got some place down by the wharves, full of rifles and stuff you wouldn’t believe.”
I shrank back in the chair. “I don’t know . . . if I could do that.”
“Are you kidding? Of course you could! You came here tonight with a gun in your hand, Kim. Granted, it was unusual circumstances – you were upset and emotional because of the misunderstanding about your brother – but still, it says something about you. You’re not quite as sweet and innocent as everybody believes. Including yourself. Of course, I don’t mean that you’re not those things – you certainly are – it’s just that there’s obviously more to you than that. Real depth of character. But believe me, I always knew that.”
“You did?”
“Oh, sure. And what happened here tonight only proves it. Granted, you flew to the completely wrong conclusion about my bringing your brother here – and certainly, pointing a gun at me is quite an overreaction – but still, it says a lot about you that you did go off that way. You’re very protective about the things that matter to you.”
I stayed quiet for a moment. Then –
“What would happen?” I spoke in the little mouse voice I used to have. “If I did this . . . what you want me to do . . . and I found out that Cole did want to hurt you? What would happen to him?”
This time, it was McIntyre who exchanged glances with Michael. Then back to me.
“We’d take care of him,” said McIntyre said. “So nobody would have to worry about him again. Of course . . . that might not be a simple task. Like I said, he’s a paranoid individual. So you’d have to help with that as well.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, though. We’d make sure you wouldn’t get hurt.”
Nice of him.
“But I’m not sure I understand.” I wrinkled my brow again. “If you’re worried about Cole – and what he might do – why don’t you just take care of him now? I mean, do it right away. You’ve got Michael and the rest of your security team – I’m sure they could handle him. Why bother having me keep an eye on him?”
“You’re absolutely right, Kim. My people would have no problem taking care of the situation. Permanently. But there are some other considerations – serious ones. It’s come to my attention, through some sources I have, that Cole has been spending a lot of money lately. Buying some pretty fancy equipment. And frankly, it’s a lot more money than somebody in his position should have access to.”
So my old boss still didn’t know that the money had come from his own transfer accounts. And that I’d been the one responsible. That was good for me, that he was still in the dark about that.
“That indicates there’s somebody behind him,” continued McIntyre. “Somebody financing him. And we need to know who it is. You can’t be a successful businessman – the way I’ve been – without making a few enemies along the way. And if there’s somebody like that, who has a grudge against me, and they’re setting Cole up to do something . . . then we need to know who it is. So we can take care of not just Cole, but whoever’s behind him as well.”
I nodded, as though it were all making sense at last.
“And that’s where you would come in, Kim. That’s why I need you.”
“I . . . just don’t know. If I could.” I twisted my hands together in my lap. “It’s kind of scary.”
“Look. You don’t have to decide right now.” McIntyre exuded kindly patience. “Just think about it. Okay? That’s all I’m asking.”
I was thinking about it, all right. I was thinking that this was a deeply strange world, where somebody could ask you to help kill the person you had already asked to help you kill the first person. This seemed overly complicated to me.
“And believe me, Kim, there’d be something in it for you as well.” McIntyre fired up his nice-boss smile again. “You’d have helped me out a great deal. And the company. We’d show how much we appreciate your efforts. I know you had your heart set on that Chief Financial Officer position – and that would still be something in the future. I’m not going to lie to you about that. But we could definitely put your career back on track, leading up to something like that. You’d be working for us again, but at a much higher level than before. With a good salary and complete benefits. It’d be a big change, for both you and Donnie. I can guarantee that.”
That already did change things. I had to think about it. Seriously.
All I’d have to do would be to roll over on Cole – spy on him, set him up to be killed – and then I’d be set for life. I’d be back inside the company. I’d be on the way up. And I’d be able to take care of my little brother. Which right now, I couldn’t.
I was thinking. Hard.
The room seemed to get very quiet, as though I were the only one in it.
All I’d have to do was to stop being what I really was now – a killer, going after my old boss – and just pretend to be that. So that somebody else would get killed.
Was that so hard?
Either way, somebody got killed. It was just that if I went along with McIntyre now, rather than Cole – and it was Cole who got killed, eventually – then I’d be fine. Everything would be fine.
I could even be Little Nerd Accountant Girl again, except with a nicer office and a bigger salary. That was a lot less scary than being a killer.
Something strange happened while I was mulling over McIntyre’s offer.
Another one of those episodes, that I’d started having after my motorcycle accident. That bit where I’d be the only thing real in the world, and everything around me was just flat and two-dimensional, as though the buildings and the people and everything else were just painted on transparent sheets of plastic, one laid on top of another. And I’d have to concentrate, just to make the world real again.
This time, sitting in the chair close to McIntyre, I looked down at myself –
And everything else in the world was real. And I wasn’t. I was the flat, two-dimensional thing, painted on the plastic transparencies.
I closed
my eyes. I didn’t want to see that.
I knew I should take McIntyre’s offer. It was a good deal. A real good deal.
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
I was lying. I didn’t have to think about it at all.
Which was just as well. Because when I said that, I saw a little spark of anger flash inside McIntyre’s eyes. Way deep inside . . .
The sonuvabitch almost had me. There wouldn’t have been any nice office and big salary. And full benefits. I would’ve rolled over on Cole, then . . . nothing.
That’s just how people like McIntyre were. I’d already learned that.
“That’s great, Kim.” He turned away from me. “I’m glad we had this little talk.”
“Mr. McIntyre –”
“Yes?” He lowered the wineglass in his hand.
“Could I have my gun back? It really cost me a lot. And maybe I could get them to exchange it for something more . . . appropriate.”
“Sure. Michael has it.” He looked over to his head security guy. “Why don’t you run Kim and her brother home now? It’s been a long evening for everybody.”
* * *
Donnie was already asleep, with his head on the table downstairs. Michael carried him in his arms out to the car, in the garage behind the amusement park building. I’d have to follow them on the motorcycle, back to the apartment.
“You’re not fooling me.” Michael set my brother’s folded-up wheelchair in the car trunk, then slammed the lid down. “I know what you’re up to.”
I held out my hand, palm upward. “My gun, please.”
He dug it out of his pocket, opened it up, and shook the bullets out on the ground, then handed it to me.
“Just watch yourself.”
“Oh, I will.” I tucked the gun inside my backpack. “Believe me, I will.”
SEVENTEEN
“That place we went to last night sucked.”
“So?” I set Donnie’s breakfast down in front of him. “Did I take you there?”
“No . . .” He poked a spoon at the soggy corn flakes. “But still. I’m not into all that cartoon stuff. And the rides were really slow.”