The Killing Kind

15

Purkhiser spent an hour trying to convince security he was innocent, shivering in his wet clothes all the while. He explained that he’d been set up. That this Allard dude was after him. He’d even gone so far as to ask them to review the security footage-he was sure it would exonerate him. But apparently, there was some kind of mall-wide security camera outage, so he had no choice but to back away from his claims. Without evidence-or disclosing the fact that he was in hiding from the Mob-even Purkhiser was forced to admit he sounded like a loon.

Eventually, they released him-two guards escorting Purkhiser from the building and into the falling dusk. The mall parking lot was nearly empty. Most of its lights had yet to turn on, although a couple early risers flickered to life as night descended. Only three cars were in sight. Purkhiser’s rusted-out Buick Skylark sat a ways out from the other two, its windows reflecting the sky’s fading orange.

Purkhiser stood there for a moment-watching, waiting, looking for any sign of Allard. He was sure the name was an alias, but he had nothing else to call the guy. He told himself the parking lot was too big for one man to keep track of. That loads of cars had come and gone since he’d been detained. That there was no reason to think Allard knew which one was his. But he still sprinted to the car like a runner stealing home and unlocked it with jittering hands- peering wildly around the lot the whole time.

He ducked inside, slammed the door, and jammed the key into the ignition. As he turned the key, he closed his eyes, half-expecting the car to explode.

It didn’t.

It didn’t turn over, though, either.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” came a voice from the backseat, “but after your freak-out in the mall, I didn’t want you gunning the engine and crashing us both into a light pole before we had a chance to talk.”

Purkhiser went for the door handle. Didn’t realize he’d put his seat belt on. Hendricks reached forward with his left hand and locked the door-and with his right, he grabbed the shoulder strap of Purkhiser’s seat belt and yanked. The lap belt tightened, pinning Purkhiser to his seat.

“Relax, Eric,” Hendricks said. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“I told you,” he said, thrashing against the seat belt like a trapped animal, “my name’s not Eric-it’s Eddie. Eddie Palomera. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“No, I don’t-and the sooner you stop trying to bullshit me, the better this will go for the both of us. See, while I’m not here to kill you, there are others close behind who mean to-and they’re doubtless good at what they do. If you want me to, I’ll let you go right now and disappear from your life forever-just say the word. But understand that if you do, you’re on your own. I won’t be able to protect you.”

Purkhiser stopped struggling while he digested what Hendricks had said. His eyes met Hendricks’s through the Buick’s rearview. “You’re here to protect me?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you with WITSEC?”

“No,” Hendricks replied. “I’m not with WITSEC.”

Purkhiser laughed then, black and bitter as old coffee. “ ’Course not. I figured maybe they saw my picture in the paper and sent you to keep an eye on me, but I shoulda known those ass weasels don’t give a damn about me anymore.”

“You’re no longer in the program?”

“Nope. I told those fuckers to take a hike about a year back. Always keeping tabs. Checking up on me. Poking ’round my business. I couldn’t get at a dime of the dough I socked away-”

“Stole, you mean.”

“-with them looking over my shoulder all the time. So I dropped out. Told ’em I was fine. And I woulda been, too, if it wasn’t for that fucking picture. That is what brought you here, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” Hendricks said. “That’s what brought me here. Honestly, Eric, what the fuck were you thinking letting them print it?”

Purkhiser shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice. The casino made me sign a bunch of shit that said I’d do whatever publicity they wanted or I wouldn’t get my goddamn winnings. So I figured what the hell-it’s just some tiny local rag. Probably nobody’d even see it.”

“I saw it. And I’m not the only one.”

“So if you ain’t with WITSEC, who the hell are you? All I know for sure’s your name ain’t Allard.”

“You don’t need to know who I am. All you need to know is who I work for.”

“Okay, then-who do you work for?”

“You, actually. Or, rather, I will, for the bargain-basement rate of a quarter million dollars.”

“A quarter million dollars.”

“That’s right.”

“Which gets me what, exactly?”

“You know those guys coming to kill you?”

“Yeah?”

“I kill them first.”

“Shit-you’re like some kind of hitman entrepreneur? Now I’ve fucking heard everything. But seriously, dude, don’t you think a quarter mil’s a little steep?”

“Hey, that’s your call to make. But I would’ve thought a guy with damn near thirty million of the Atlanta Outfit’s dollars in the bank would have no trouble forking over a paltry quarter mil to avoid his own grisly murder.”

“You’ve seen my car, dude, and the shithole I’ve been working in these past two years. Do I look like I got thirty mil to you?”

Purkhiser had a point. Hendricks told him so.

“Damn right. See, the Marshals Service took it personal when I kicked ’em to the curb. Guess once I did they figured out I wasn’t square with them when I told ’em I didn’t know shit ’bout all the money that went missing. Next thing I know, I got a federal prosecutor sniffing around, asking all kinds of questions about unreported income and wondering if maybe I had any back taxes needed filing.”

“Wow. Bad break.”

“You’re fucking telling me. I ain’t been near my stash since, for fear they’d bust my ass. I don’t have to tell you that if they locked me up, I’d be shanked within the week-and no pile of money’s worth that. I was gonna skip the country and wire my money to a new account once I was clear, but those assholes revoked my passport. So instead, I decided it was time to get some dough that I could actually use. Hence my trip to the casino.”

“A six mil payout goes a long way toward putting you back in the upper class,” Hendricks said. “Picture in the paper aside, that was quite a stroke of luck.”

“Luck? You think that shit was luck? Took me eight months to write a program that could get through the casino’s firewall and hack those slots. I earned every fucking dime of that money.”

“And now that you have it, you’ll have no trouble paying me.”

“Yeah, only that’s just it-I don’t have it yet. Maybe Vegas does it different, but a two-bit slot joint in KC don’t exactly hand over that kind of coin right on the spot. I gotta go back Thursday to pick it up.”

A puzzle-piece clicked into place, and suddenly, Hendricks saw the whole picture. The instructions in Lester’s decoded communiqué said to make the hit as public and messy as possible. “Let me guess,” he said, “big crowd, oversized novelty check-that sort of deal?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Not ideal for a guy on the lam, I know-but I figure nobody’s got better security than a casino, and once I get my money I can disappear for good.”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’m pretty sure that’s where they’re going to hit you.”

Purkhiser made a little whining noise in the back of his throat. “Why? What makes you so sure?”

“Their instructions were to make a show of it. Their goal is to make sure no one ever tries to burn them like you did again. What better way to make their point than to take you down in front of God and everyone during your supposed moment of triumph?”

Even in the dim light of the Skylark, Hendricks saw Purkhiser go pale. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.” Then he brightened. “But you said that you could stop ’em, right?”

“I said if you paid me, I could stop them.”

“Right, but if you stop ’em, I can get my money, and then I’ll have more than enough to pay you.”

Hendricks shook his head. “I don’t work that way. I get my money up front or no deal.”

“I dunno, dude-that sounds pretty fucking hinky to me. If you’re as good as you’re puttin’ on, why’s it matter if I pay you after?”

“Well, for one, there’s no guarantee you ever would, in which case I’d have to kill you-and that makes two jobs I don’t get paid for. And for two, an attempt on your life is going to attract all kinds of attention from the authorities, which will help keep you safe from subsequent attacks if you hire me to do my thing, but it also makes any subsequent transfer of funds a whole lot riskier than it would have been beforehand. But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that I don’t kill without good reason. No money, no reason. So take it or leave it, but my offer’s nonnego

tiable.”

“Everything’s negotiable, dude.”

“Not this.”

“So, what, then?” Purkhiser said. “You’re just gonna let me die?”

“That’s up to you,” Hendricks said. “You’ve got a choice to make. Today’s Monday, which means if I’m right about the timing of the hit, you’ve got three days. You can choose to run-to leave this place tonight-and if you do, who knows? Maybe you’ll manage to disappear again. Maybe they’ll hunt you down and kill you. Or you can choose to spend the next three days getting my fee together. There’s a slip of paper in your glove compartment. On it is a phone number. Once you’re ready to pay my fee, call me at that number, and you have my word no harm will come to you.”

Hendricks released his grip on Purkhiser’s seat belt and climbed out of the car. Purkhiser leaned heavily against the wheel.

With one hand resting on the open door, Hendricks said, “You’ll find your spark plugs in your glove compartment, too. They’ll come in handy getting home.”

Then he shut the door and walked away, leaving Purkhiser with his thoughts.