Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Fifty-five

“Mr. Gianelli, it might surprise you to know that I think you have the best chance of buying these photos.”

“Is that because people have been dying to get them?”

I didn’t mean for that to come out as a pun, but it went over his head, anyway. I also noticed that my Brooklyn had taken a hike. Once again, I was adapting to the company I was keeping. This time, I didn’t much like it.

“I have heard about that,” he said.

“Mr. Kennedy, do you know a guy named Sloane? Claims to be with the Secret Service?”

“I don’t believe I do.”

“Byers, or Simpson?”

“No. Apparently, there are some other parties trying to get those photos.”

“And how did these other parties find out about them?” I asked.

“I don’t know, really,” he said. “My only concern at the moment is that they don’t succeed.”

“Mr. Kennedy,” I said, “so far I haven’t seen the photo you’re talking about. In fact I haven’t even seen the photo I’m talking about.”

“I believe you.”

“Furthermore, I don’t want to see them,” I said. “In fact, I want out of this whole business.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Why? Because you won’t let me out?”

“I am certain I have no control over the decision you make, Mr. Gianelli,” he said. “I’m sure you are your own man.”

“Then why is it unfortunate?”

“Well, I’m not sure the other parties involved will let you out.”

“I’m kind of worried about that, myself,” I said. “I don’t want to end up dead.”

“Maybe the only way to avoid that is to get ahold of that roll of film.”

“And turn it over to you?”

“Only the print I am concerned with,” he said. “The rest of the roll is yours, to do with as you see fit. Sell it, turn it over to your principal, whatever.”

“Sell it?” I said. “What the hell do you think I am? I’m no blackmailer.”

“I apologize,” he said. “That was thoughtless of me. Of course you’re not a blackmailer. I understand you know my son, Jack.”

“We met before he became President.”

“Yes, I believe he mentioned it to me. Last year, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“At about the time the photo was taken, in fact.”

“I guess.”

“Your likeness wouldn’t be on that roll of film, would it, Mr. Gianelli?”

“It’s possible,” I said, “but I don’t think I was doing anything … objectionable.”

“How fortunate for you,” he said. “My son was not as lucky.”

It was the first time I heard some hint of emotion in his voice-disapproval. Was that an emotion?

“I have a proposal for you, sir,” he said.

“Let’s hear it.”

“I’ll pay you, employ you, to continue your negotiations for that roll of film.”

“But the people I’m negotiating with are not the same-I mean, they’re only looking for fifty thousand-”

“And you have it, don’t you?”

“Well yes, but-”

“Then there are two groups looking to sell?”

“That’s my point,” I said, “and yours is asking for a lot more money.”

“Yes,” he said, “I wondered about that.” He frowned while he was wondering.

“Mr. Kennedy,” I said, “you really have no idea who’s running around claiming to be members of the Secret Service? Killing people? Trying to kill me?”

“I truly don’t, Mr. Gianelli,” he said, “but you know Tahoe, Reno and Vegas better than my people do. You won’t blunder about as much as they have been doing.”

“Could any of your people have gone into business for themselves?”

His frown deepened.

“That’s always possible.”

“And the buy amount you’re dealing with? Half a million?”

“Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Is there somebody out there running around with that kind of money?”

“Not in cash,” he said.

“Then how-”

“That’s not important,” he said. “I want you to make your fifty-thousand-dollar buy. That way we both get what we want.”

“And my man is out fifty grand.”

“I will cover the cost,” he said. “And I’ll pay you, besides.”

“How much?”

“Name a price,” he said. “Five thousand? Ten?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to figure out how much risking my life is worth.”

“But you don’t have to risk your life,” he said. “Make the buy. Pay the fifty thousand.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid of being killed by the sellers,” I said. “It’s the other buyers I’m worried about.”

“I understood you had some … help? Some … what do you call it … backup?”

“That’s not what I call it,” I said. “That’s not my lingo.”

“Mine, either, I’m afraid.”

“But you’re right, I do have someone with me.”

“I’ll pay him, too, then.”

“Really? That’s interesting.”

“As I said, name your price,” he said, then added, “within reason.”

“No blank checks, huh?” I asked.

“I don’t think either of us deals with very many blank checks in our businesses.”

“No, I’d say you’re right.”

“I’ll need you to make a decision, Mr. Gianelli,” he said. “I must be getting back to the compound.”

I hesitated. I knew he thought that no one would, could, or should make a decision until he got back. He was a man used to being in charge.

“My son is going to do great things in the White House, Mr. Gianelli,” he said. “That is, if he’s permitted to.”

“Oh shit,” I said, “you just had to wave the flag in my face, didn’t you?”