The Sixth Man

CHAPTER 37

AFTER LANDING at LaGuardia and being driven into the city Peter Bunting did not go home to his lovely, socially active wife and his three privileged and accomplished children at their luxurious Fifth Avenue brownstone across from Central Park.

Nor did he return to his office. He had somewhere else to go because he was focused on keeping Edgar Roy alive.

And probably me, too.

He walked fifteen blocks to a rundown six-story building well off the famous boulevards of Manhattan. He took care to avoid being followed, going into lobbies of buildings and exiting by different ways. In the lower level of the six-story building was a pizzeria. In the upper levels were offices for small businesses. On the very top level were two rooms. He took the stairs and knocked.

The man ushered him in and closed the door behind him. Bunting moved through into the next room. The man followed him and closed the door to this room too. He motioned for Bunting to sit on a chair set next to a small table.

Bunting did so, unbuttoning his suit jacket and trying to get comfortable in a chair that was not designed for comfort. The man remained standing.

James Harkes was dressed, as always, in a black two-piece suit, starched white shirt, black straight tie. He would be anonymous among the millions of other men in this city.

“Thank you for meeting with me so quickly,” Bunting began.

“You know that I’m tasked to take care of you, Mr. Bunting,” said Harkes.

“You’ve done a good job so far.”

“So far.”

“The six bodies at the farm? I believe that Roy was framed.”

“And who would want to do that?”

Bunting hesitated before answering. “You’re joking, right?”

“I don’t normally employ humor in my job.”

“I meant there are obviously those who would have a problem with the program.”

“But why frame Roy? Either kill him or coopt him. That’s what I would do.”

Bunting didn’t look confident as he said, “But we can’t use him either. That weakens us.”

“But he may be free one day. Better for our enemies to kill him. Then he can’t come back to work ever.”

Bunting studied him closely. “Foster is talking about taking preemptive action with Edgar Roy. Do you know about that?”

Harkes said nothing.

“Harkes, did you take preemptive action with the lawyer, Ted Bergin?”

Harkes remained silent.

“Why kill him?”

Harkes’s gaze remained fixed on Bunting but he still said nothing.

“Who is authorizing this? Because I’m sure as hell not.”

“I don’t do anything without the requisite approval.”

“Who is it? Foster?”

“I’ll be in touch.”

“Harkes, once you go down that road, there’s no going back.”

“If there’s nothing else, sir?” Harkes opened the door for Bunting to pass through.

“Please don’t do this, Harkes. Edgar Roy is one of a kind. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s innocent. I know that he is.”

“Take care, Mr. Bunting.”

Once he reached the street Bunting started to walk back to his office but then veered away at the last moment. He went inside a bar, found a seat, and had a Bombay Sapphire and tonic. He checked e-mails, made a few phone calls, all routine, just to get his mind off the mess of Edgar Roy. He was caught right in the middle. People were getting killed and there was nothing he could do about it.

Lost in his own problems, he didn’t notice the tall woman who had come in after him. She settled into a chair at a table in the back of the bar, ordered an Arnold Palmer, and watched him closely without ever seeming to.

Kelly Paul patiently waited for Peter Bunting to finish drowning his worries in good gin.