Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [83]
Dale Carnegie, author of How to Make Friends and Influence People, could have taken a lesson from Robert Brixton.
PART
FOUR
CHAPTER 29
Emile Silva sat impatiently at a Wendy’s in suburban Washington. Dexter had said to be there at one and it was now twenty minutes past.
Silva had returned the day before from a visit to his offshore bank, where he’d deposited another large sum of cash. He’d intended to stay there for two weeks but had soon become bored. And there was the episode with the black prostitute that had angered him almost to the point of physical violence. She’d taken offense that he wanted only to watch her nude gyrations and refused to touch her. She’d considered it a personal affront. Was it because he didn’t like her body, or because she was dark-skinned? She’d cursed him, called him a faggot and a pervert. He’d dismissed her harshly, holding up a knife and threatening to kill her. The encounter had left him shaken and he’d decided to return to Washington despite Dexter’s order to stay away longer.
He was about to leave the Wendy’s when Dexter walked in. He went directly to the counter and ordered a sandwich and soft drink, which he took to the table.
“You’re late,” Silva said.
“Get something to eat,” Dexter said. “It looks strange for you to be sitting here without eating.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Dexter’s expression was disdainful. Silva saw his reflection in the other man’s thick glasses and thought how much he would enjoy killing the arrogant little bastard.
“I was surprised when you called,” Dexter said. “You were supposed to be away for much longer.”
“I wasn’t happy. Is there another assignment for me?”
“Not at the moment but one is currently being discussed. The decision is being made at the highest level.”
Silva snickered. “I hope it comes through soon,” he said. “I don’t like to lose my edge.”
“I will let you know the minute I hear something. You do realize, Emile, that your service has a built-in expiration date.”
“What does that mean?”
“There comes a point when someone with your particular skills has outlived his usefulness. It has nothing to do with your performance, which has been outstanding. But there is a strategic need for new faces from time to time. The old faces can become a liability. You were informed of that when you joined us.”
What Dexter said was true, although Silva had dismissed it at the time. Was he now being told that he was being cut loose? You’d better think twice about that, he thought. He’d once asked Dexter about those who had preceded him as assassins but hadn’t received an answer. Were they “eliminated” once their service was terminated to ensure that they weren’t able to tell tales out of school? He knew that was a good possibility and pledged to himself that he wouldn’t allow it to happen. He’d kill them first. He would survive.
“I suggest that you maintain a low profile now that you’re back,” Dexter said as he finished his sandwich and swallowed what was left of his drink. “There is to be no contact until I need you. Understood?”
Silva’s noncommittal shrug annoyed Dexter but he said nothing. He got up and left without another word.
Silva exited the restaurant shortly after Dexter had departed, got into his Porsche, and drove home. He’d seldom thought about being dismissed, but the fact that Dexter had pointedly raised the issue was of concern. Were plans in the works to replace him? He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t allow it to happen.
He changed into workout clothes and was about to mount the treadmill when the phone rang.
“Mr. Silva?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Rahmi. I’m calling concerning your mother.” She spoke with an East Indian lilt.
“Mother? Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so, sir. Your mother was taken to the hospital earlier today. Your name is listed as her family contact.”
“Is she—?”
“We’re conducting tests to determine why she collapsed.”
“Is it terminal?”
“Oh no, sir, although she is in serious condition. The next twenty-four hours will