Eve - Iris Johansen [96]
“You don’t know anything about it. I may not even choose to use your precious information. I’ll have to decide. It’s sometimes better to go for a fresh, unexpected approach. It’s certainly more enjoyable.”
“I’m not interested in what’s enjoyable for you.”
“You may be very interested at some point, Queen.”
Back off. That last remark was aimed at him, and Black’s malice might also be changed to include Queen. He didn’t want to have to deal with Black until he had done his job and retrieved the ledger. He’d already lined up a hit man to take care of Black after he had no use for him. “All I’m saying is that nothing should get in the way of what’s important.”
“I thought that was what you meant.” Black sounded amused. “I’m certain you wouldn’t deliberately be rude.” He hung up.
Queen expelled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Everything was in motion. All he had to do was sit back and watch and pick up the spoils.
* * *
BLACK LOOKED DOWN AT THE pad on which he’d scrawled the room number in Milwaukee.
Eve Duncan’s room number.
He remembered her well. How could he forget?
And how well and in what ways did Gallo remember Eve Duncan? Queen had said she’d been with him in the house in the mountains.
Is it time to take your toy from you, Gallo?
He felt a surge of fierce pleasure at the thought. Not only the death of Gallo, but making him watch the death of someone he cared about.
But how to do it in the most pleasurable way for himself?
He thought he knew what path he wanted to take. He reached in his pocket and pulled out another note he had made.
San Cecilia.
* * *
EVE TOOK OUT THE PLASTIC key the clerk had given her and pushed it into the slot.
“No, my room.”
She stiffened and turned to see John Gallo standing behind her. He was wearing a black shirt and khaki pants and looked dark, lean, and completely casual and confident. “All of this cloak-and-dagger stuff is annoying, John. I feel as if I’ve joined the CIA like Catherine.”
He shook his head. “Nary a cloak or dagger in sight.” He nodded at an open door down the hall. “My room. It’s safer. I’ve ordered dinner.” He took her carry-on and rolled it down the hall. “You were followed from the airport.”
“How do you know?”
“I hired an old friend, Peter Chakon, to watch the Toyota and report to me.” He smiled. “Would I let you take a chance on being intercepted on your way here?”
“I don’t know what you’d do. Was it one of Queen’s people?”
“Maybe.” He stepped aside for her to enter the room. “Probably.”
She glanced around the room. Typical hotel room, blue synthetic-silk spread on a king-size bed, a desk and chair across the room. A small damask-covered room-service table was pushed against the wall.
“Not as nice as the last Marriott we were in together,” John said. “But then there are Marriotts and Marriotts.”
She looked at him. “That wasn’t a pleasant memory, either.”
“I know. But I couldn’t resist the temptation to repeat history on some level.” He shut the door and gestured to the table. “Sit down and eat. I don’t know how long we’ll have before we’re interrupted.”
She sat down in the chair. “You think someone is going to come. Then why are we still here?”
“Because I want to see who it is.” He uncovered the plates to reveal sandwiches and soup. “Ham okay?”
She nodded. “You said you were curious. I don’t think you’re this curious.”
He sat down across from her. “It’s important that I know who may be knocking on the door.”
“Queen.” She took a sip of soup. “Who else?”
He didn’t answer.
She studied him. “Who else?” she whispered. “Black?”
“It’s possible that Queen decided to bring him in on a job that he considered important. I worked very hard at being a thorn in his side to bring that about.” He poured coffee into her cup. “At least, I hope he did.”
“Bring him in?” Her grip tightened on her spoon. “Stop this. I have to know what you’re talking about. Start at the beginning. What do you have on Queen?”
He made a face. “The beginning? I try to avoid thinking of the beginning.” He leaned back