The Four Last Things

Chapter 26

I signaled to Dexter, but he'd already gotten up without looking at me and started to pull on his socks.

"Hi, Dick," I said, fighting a wave of blind terror. "What's up?"

"Well, I've been having the most fascinating chat with your Miss Chan," he said. "She has a genuinely amusing idea. She wants to make a mini-series based on the Church. Think of it, Simeon. We'll all be famous."

Dexter was tucking in his shirt. He hadn't made a sound.

"How'd you get her?" I said.

"We just bumped into her last night in the parking lot of the Times. Coincidence of the sheerest sort. Well, I hadn't actually had the pleasure of meeting her, although all sorts of other people had, so naturally we brought her over here."

"Last night." I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach.

"Oh, we've had hours. It's been very entertaining. I must say, though, it took some persuasion to get her to tell us your new phone number. You move around so. Still, I suppose if people can walk in and out of your house with ease, it's a good idea to take up temporary residence elsewhere. And, of course, it's given me an opportunity to get to know Miss Chan."

"She's a little old for you, isn't she, Dick?" I said. Dexter had pulled on one boot.

"Now," he said, "that's no attitude to take. I find her delightful. Even attractive in an exotic sort of way. Her skin is so much smoother than you'd expect in a woman her age. Perhaps I should have discovered Oriental women earlier."

"If you've hurt her I'll kill you," I said.

"I don't think you'll get the chance," he said lightly. "Listen, Simeon, it really is convenient, your being in the neighborhood. This mini-series idea is intriguing, but there are a few details I'd like to discuss with you before we give you exclusive rights."

With both his boots on and laced, Dexter was straightening the bed and gathering up everything he'd brought. He hadn't met my eyes since I picked up the phone.

"What I'd like you to do," Merryman said, "is come straight over here, on foot, alone, without calling anybody first. And to make sure you don't, I've sent someone to walk with you. In fact, he's there already."

I looked helplessly up at Dexter. He picked up the automatic he'd brought and glanced down at me carelessly. It was the first time he'd looked at me. Then he examined the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"At the sound of the tone," Merryman said, "it will be eight o'clock."

Someone knocked on the door.

Dexter ripped the floor plans off the wall and stepped into the closet, closing the door after him. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

I went to the door and opened it, and found myself looking at Needle-nose.

"Hi, I'm Barry," he said in a toneless voice. "I'll be your flight attendant this morning. Dick told me to say that. Would you like to get your shoes?" He looked incuriously around the room. "What a shithole," he said.

I put my shoes on while he went over and picked up the phone. "I've got him," he said. He listened for a second and then hung up. "Aren't we going to have fun?" he said.

I pulled on my jacket.

"Turn around," Barry said, "and put your hands against the wall. Higher." He patted me down professionally and removed the automatic from the jacket pocket. "Naughty, naughty," he said reprovingly. "Anything else?"

"No," I said. He'd missed the pimp's knife, which I'd shoved into the jacket lining just behind the base of the zipper. It banged against my stomach as we walked toward the door. He opened it and motioned me through. "Say good-bye," he said.

"Good-bye," I said obediently. "This certainly messes up my timing." I hoped Dexter could hear me through the closet door.

"It doesn't matter," Barry said, closing the door. "It doesn't matter at all."

We went down in the elevator in silence.

"Now, you're not going to give me any trouble," he said as we stepped into the bright, warm morning, "because of your pretty little Chink girl. I don't have to hold a gun on you or nothing. Just think about her and walk a nice straight line. You know where the hotel is."

"Attention to detail is essential to success," I said as we shouldered our way into the foot traffic on the sidewalk.

"Say again?" he said.

"One of my mother's maxims," I said. "She's a fool for detail."

"Isn't she going to be sorry to hear about you?" he said.

I supposed she probably would be. Anyway, it wasn't the kind of remark that invites a rejoinder.

"My friend's in the hospital," Barry said from behind me. "He's got bad burns. I wonder how you're going to like bad burns."

"I don't think it's something one looks forward to," I said. "What slum of the spirit did they find you in?"

"I found them," he said. "Just like I found you."

We crossed the square. Most of the homeless were still asleep beneath their washing-machine boxes. I hadn't known so many washing machines were sold in Los Angeles. The people on the sidewalks all looked normal and safe, on their way to enviably boring jobs. No one caught my eye. I guessed I didn't look like someone who was on his way to die.

The Borzoi lobby yawned dingy and empty. We went straight to the elevator and up to the floor marked executive offices. Barry stood very close behind me, using the privacy to indulge himself in the luxury of poking a gun, probably my gun, into my back. That was the second gun I'd had taken from me.

"God, I'd love to puncture your kidneys," he said as the doors opened. "Second door on the right."

The door said DR. MERRYMAN. I pushed it open.

"Simeon," Merryman said, "nice of you to come. I know it's early." He was wearing a turquoise shirt this time, and pale yellow slacks. "And look," he said, smiling. "Here's a friend of yours."

I turned, looking for Eleanor, and saw Meredith Brooks.