Firebreak

4

"I always mistrusted that rotten bastard," Arthur said.

Lloyd said, "Parker, do you think so? Two bombs?"

"You'll tell me," Parker said, "as soon as Arthur gives you the package."

They both looked at Arthur, who started to get up, stopped himself, almost said two or three things, then sat back and said, "Give me a second here."

Parker watched him. "For what?"

"I never did like it when things got sudden," Arthur told him, "and I like it even less now. People talk fast, you go along, sure you say, sure, and all of a sudden you're someplace you don't want to be."

Parker sat back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. 'Take your time," he said.

"We trotted through this pretty good," Arthur explained, "but now I got to back up and remind myself, nobody needs to kill me"

"Nobody needs to keep you alive, either," Parker told him. "What use are you?"

"Some little use," Arthur said. "I sit here and wait for you to come home. Then I dial that number there. Why isn't that to somebody else near here, ready to move in on you? This way, you can get to me, but you can't get to him."

'Through that number, I can."

Arthur looked at the numbers written on the sheet from the memo pad. 'That's true."

"And now they'd have to go set up another whole household, twenty-four hours a day, ready to go when you ring their phone. How many shooters? They'd need somebody awake, whenever the call came."

"That's also true," Arthur said.

"It's simpler to blow me up," Parker told him. "But then they still have you here, a witness, too close to the scene, you'll never get away before the law arrives, your name is probably all over this rental."

"It is," Arthur agreed.

"Why would they want to leave you around," Parker asked him, "to decide for yourself if you'd rather answer questions or spend the rest of your life in the can?"

Arthur slowly nodded, then turned toward Lloyd. "It's in the kitchen," he said. "Under the sink."

Lloyd stood. "I'll get it."

"Just a box wrapped in brown paper," Arthur told him. "Cigar box size."

Lloyd went into the kitchen, and Arthur looked at Parker. 'The fella's name," he said, "is Frank Meany."

'That recruited you."

That's right."

Lloyd came back with the box, holding it flat in both hands. "Give me a minute with this," he said. He went back to the sofa, put the box on the coffee table, sat down, and spent a while merely looking it over, not touching it.

Arthur said, "I worked forty years for those people. Driver, then boss. I organized and ran two routes north, one through New York, one through Maine to Halifax."

'You said Customs before," Parker said. "So you were smuggling."

"Cigarettes north, out of DC, where you don't have the state and local taxes," Arthur said. "Whiskey south. It isn't a crime against people, it's a crime against the tax man, the closest thing you got to a victimless crime. No violence, or at least usually. Good profit. I don't see where killing has to come into it at this late date."

Lloyd had taken a penknife from his pocket, and carefully sliced away the brown paper and brown packaging tape. Inside it actually was a cigar box, with pictures of flamenco dancers on the lid and sides. Lloyd lifted the box away from the brown paper, put it down by itself, brushed the brown paper to the floor, and leaned close to study the box.

Parker said* "I'm trying to remember a name. An outfit in Bayonne."

Arthur gave him a sharp look. "What kind of outfit?"

"Cosmopolitan, that was it," Parker said. "Cosmopolitan Beverages."

"Wait a minute," Arthur said, beginning to have doubts again. "If you're nothing to do with Customs, nothing to do with Cosmopolitan, how do you know about it?"

"The first hitter they sent," Parker told him, "was a Russian with a cover at Cosmopolitan. The people in the office there never heard of him, but he had papers on him showed he worked for them, had his green card, could travel anywhere he wanted."

"Here goes nothing," Lloyd said, and lifted the lid.

The other two looked at him. Absorbed, he gazed into the box. "Cigars," he said.

Parker stood and crossed over to look into the box. Slender long cigars, dark brown leaf, lay in a neat tight row, packed edge to edge in the box, flattened slightly along their upper surfaces from the pressure of the lid.

Arthur had stayed where he was, but was curious. "It's cigars?"

"On top," Lloyd said, and pointed to the end of the last cigar on the right. "See that wire?"

Parker had to lean close to see it; another hair-thin wire, like the one to trigger the camera at Claire's house, except this one was coiled around the end of the cigar.

Arthur had come over. "What is it?"

"A little wire," Lloyd said, and pointed at it.

Arthur took off his glasses with both hands, folded the wings, and bent close to look where Lloyd was pointing. "Son of a bitch," he said, and straightened, and put his glasses back on.

Lloyd said, 'This is as deep into this box as I want to

go."

"We don't have to go any more," Parker said. "We all know what the story is now. Don't we, Arthur?"

Arthur sighed. "I would have called that number," he said.

They all looked at the row of cigars in the open box. Then Lloyd lifted his head. "I haven't heard snoring for a while," he said.

Arthur said, "Well, she doesn't snore all the time."

"Look," Parker said.

Lloyd nodded and got to his feet and left the room.

"She's a heavy sleeper," Arthur insisted.

They waited, and Lloyd came back. "She's gone."

"Damn!" Arthur cried. "She must of woke herself up, she wakes herself up sometimes with the snoring, rolls over, goes back to sleep."

"Heard voices," Lloyd suggested.

"Probably looked in here from the hall," Arthur said. "Recognized you from the description."

'There's a bedroom window open," Lloyd said. "Wasn't open before."

"She's got to be in robe and slippers," Arthur said.

He looked anxious, bewildered. "Where's she gonna go}"

Parker turned to answer him, and saw the television on. 'There," he said, pointing.

They all looked. The set had switched on, to show them an interior too dark to clearly make out. There seemed to be movement there.

Arthur said, "She went to your place? What's she doing there?"

Parker said, "Looking for the phone."