Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [4]
I gave him the closest thing to a smile I ever give citizens. I'd never heard the laundry business called a profession before.
"Why don't you just fire him?"
"We can't do that. He's a very well connected young man. Besides, our clients will demand some actual proof of his guilt before taking any action. They were very insistent on that, for some reason."
Sure. The "clients" wanted to make damn sure the problem was going to get solved for good. The only time humans like that are interested in the truth is when a mistake will cost them money.
"What do you want from me?"
"We want you to find out how this individual gets the information out. And we want proof. Something we can show our clients."
"And the only time he could possibly pass this along is during business hours?"
"Yes. Without question. After that…it wouldn't be of value to him or anyone else."
I lit another cigarette, thinking it through. It sounded like they had the wrong guy. Maybe the "clients" were setting them up. Maybe this lawyer was the one doing the stealing. It wasn't my problem. Money was. Always is.
"The only time I could watch him would be when he leaves the building, right?"
"Yes. Inside the building, he's completely covered."
"A grand a day. Until I find out how he does it or you call me off. Another ten if I get the proof for you."
"Mr. Burke, with all due respect, that's triple the rate charged by the finest security firms. And you'll only be working a couple of hours each day."
"In cash. In front. Nothing bigger than fifties. No consecutive serial numbers. No new bills," I told him. "You know how it's done."
The lawyer looked at me, watching my face for the first time since I'd climbed into the limo. "What makes you worth so much?"
"Ask Mr. C.," I suggested.
He dropped his eyes. "We won't need you every day. Just those days when something comes in. We'll call as soon as…"
"No."
"I don't understand."
"I need to work this guy every day, okay? I need to know him. I need to know when he's changed his pattern. You don't need to call me when the information comes in. I watch this guy long enough, I'll know."
"That could take weeks…."
I nodded agreement. "Maybe longer. Who knows? I probably won't get him the first time he moves anyway. Depends on when you get something for him to trade."
"And you may not get him at all?"
"And I may not get him at all."
The lawyer pretended to think it over. Maybe he was better at pretending to be honest. "We need to get started on this. This is Friday; could you be on the job Monday?"
"Sure."
"All right, Mr. Burke. I am prepared to pay you one thousand dollars in cash right now. For Monday's work. In advance, as you requested. We will meet each evening—you'll give me your report and we will decide if you are to continue."
I just shook my head. Why they sent this fool to do business with me was a mystery: he was a pin–striped shark, but he couldn't bite people who never went near the water.
"You have another suggestion?"
"Yeah, pal. Here's my suggestion. You hand me twenty thousand dollars, like we agreed. Okay? That buys you twenty days, unless I pull it off quicker. I pull it off before ten days, you get a refund. Nothing jumps off in twenty days, we meet and see what you want to do. Got it?"
"That's outrageous," the lawyer said, his face a half–step out of sync with his words. "You expect me to just…"
"I'm tired of this. I'm tired of you. If Mr. C. really sent you out here to do business, you've got at least twenty large in that pretty briefcase of yours. And if you're a fucking little errand boy, go back and tell your boss that he sent the wrong messenger."
He sat there, staring. I lit another cigarette. "When this smoke is finished, so am I," I told him, waiting.
The lawyer tried to smile. "I'm no errand boy," he said, holding his head stiff. He opened another compartment in the briefcase. The money was neatly stacked, a paper band around the fifty–dollar bills. He counted off twenty little stacks, tossing them