Hit List - Lawrence Block [0]
LAWRENCE BLOCK
L I S T
This one’s for
JUSTIN SCOTT
Contents
One Keller, fresh off the plane from…
Two The first thing he saw when he…
Three Keller awoke to the faint sound…
Four “Room One forty-seven,” he told Dot.
Five Keller speared a cube of cheese…
Six She was still sleeping when he left…
Seven At home, he paged through one…
Eight Keller got out of the taxi…
Nine Why a thumb?
Ten “Well, that’s a first,” he said.
Eleven “I don’t know,” he told Dot.
Twelve Nothing to it, really.
Thirteen His name was Louis ‘Why Not?’…
Fourteen It sounded crazy.
Fifteen Keller, chasing the last forkful…
Sixteen Three weeks later Keller was…
Seventeen It’s been a while,” Maggie…
Eighteen The airport in Orange County…
Nineteen I suppose I should be glad…
Twenty He was back in New York…
Twenty-one The previous weekend Keller…
Twenty-two The foreman they had selected…
Twenty-three The hotel was a Days Inn in Queens,…
Twenty-four Odd, Keller thought.
Twenty-five “The old man,” he said.
Twenty-six Keller put his coffee cup down,…
Twenty-seven “Keller!”
Twenty-eight The killer had a cigarette going…
Twenty-nine The flight was sold out in coach,…
Thirty “Keller,” she said. “I swear to God…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Praise for Lawrence Block
Copyright
About the Publisher
One
* * *
Keller, fresh off the plane from Newark, followed the signs marked Baggage Claim. He hadn’t checked a bag, he never did, but the airport signage more or less assumed that everybody checked their luggage, because you got to the exit by heading for the baggage claim. You couldn’t count on a series of signs that said This is the way to get out of this goddam place.
There was a down escalator after you cleared security, and ten or a dozen men stood around at the foot of it, some in uniform, most holding hand-lettered signs. Keller found himself drawn to one man, a droopy guy in khakis and a leather jacket. He was the guy, Keller decided, and his eyes went to the sign the man was holding.
But you couldn’t read the damn thing. Keller walked closer, squinting at it. Did it say Archibald? Keller couldn’t tell.
He turned, and there was the name he was looking for, on a card held by another man, this one taller and heavier and wearing a suit and tie. Keller veered away from the man with the illegible sign—what was the point of a sign that nobody could read?—and walked up to the man with the Archibald sign. “I’m Mr. Archibald,” he said.
“Mr. Richard Archibald?”
What possible difference could it make? He started to nod, then remembered the name Dot had given him. “Nathan Archibald,” he said.
“That’s the ticket,” the man said. “Welcome to Louisville, Mr. Archibald. Carry that for you?”
“Never mind,” Keller said, and held on to his carry-on bag. He followed the man out of the terminal and across a couple of lanes of traffic to the short-term parking lot.
“About the name,” the man said. “What I figured, anybody can read a name off a card. Some clown’s got to figure, why take a cab when I can say I’m Archibald and ride for free? I mean, it’s not like they gave me a picture of you. Nobody here even knows what you look like.”
“I don’t come here often,” Keller said.
“Well, it’s a pretty nice town,” the man said, “but that’s beside the point. Which is I want to make sure I’m driving the right person, so I throw out a first name, and it’s a wrong first name. ‘Richard Archibald?’ Guy says yeah, that’s me, Richard Archibald, right away I know he’s full of crap.”
“Unless that’s his real name.”
“Yeah, but what’s the odds of that? Two men fresh off a plane and they both got the name Archibald?”
“Only one.”
“How’s that?”
“My name’s not really Archibald,” Keller said, figuring he wasn’t exactly letting state secrets slip by the admission. “So it’s only one man named Archibald, so how much of a long shot is it?”
The man set his jaw. “Guy claims to be Richard Archibald,” he said, “he’s not my guy. Whether it’s his name or not.”
“You’re right about that.”
“But you came up with Nathan, so we’re in business.