The Detachment - Barry Eisler [68]
I didn’t answer. I realized there were three people who thought I’d used cyanide on Shorrock: not just Horton, but also Larison and Treven. Either one of them, or both, could have mistakenly told Horton that I’d used the cyanide. That would have given him additional confidence to order the faked toxicology reports. He would have believed there really would be evidence of cyanide if anyone examined the corpses more thoroughly.
“Then how did you do Shorrock?” Larison said. “The way you did Finch?”
I was struck that despite the tension in the room, he could remain so detached and professionally curious.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. But if Larison and Treven were working for Horton, they wouldn’t be on that terror alert, right? Unless the idea were to make it look like we were all in the same boat, when in fact…
Treven tensed. In my peripheral vision, I saw Dox spot it, too.
There was a blur of movement, and an instant later all four of us had our guns out. Treven and I were pointing at each other. Dox was aiming at Treven. Larison had the muzzle of his angled toward the floor, but his head and eyes tracked from Treven to Dox to me and back again.
“You think I had something to do with this?” Treven said. “I’m as fucked as you are.”
I saw his hands were as steady as mine. “Put your gun down if you want to get unfucked,” I said.
Treven said nothing.
Larison’s head kept tracking. He looked like a rattlesnake trying to make up his mind about in which direction to strike.
I thought we had maybe two more seconds before the tension boiled over. I couldn’t figure out a way to stop it.
Suddenly, Dox brought the muzzle of his Wilson Combat up to his own neck. “Hold it,” he said. “The next man makes a move, the nigger gets it.”
I blinked and thought, What the fuck?
“Drop it,” he said. “Or I swear, I’ll blow this nigger’s head all over this town!”
He looked from one of us to the other, his eyes wide in faux lunacy.
Larison started to grin, then guffawed. “All right,” he said. “You win. You win.” He eased his pistol into the back of his waistband and held up his hands.
Treven glanced at Larison, then his eyes went back to Dox. His pistol stayed on me. “What the hell are you talking about?” he said.
“Good Lordy-Lord,” Dox said, his voice a falsetto now. “He’s desperate. Do what he say! Do what he say!”
“You’re crazy,” Treven said, but he lowered his gun a few inches. I did the same.
“What,” Dox said, “y’all never saw Blazing Saddles? Cleavon Little? I always wondered if it’d work for real.”
Treven’s gun dropped a little more. “You’re crazy,” he said again.
Dox kept his own gun in position at his neck. “Well, it’s a film, you see. A very fine film, in which—”
“I know the movie,” Treven said.
Dox took the gun from his neck and slid it into the back of his waistband. “Well, maybe the part you’re missing, and this could be due to the subtlety of my delivery, is that two seconds ago we were on the verge of committing a big old group suicide here. Besides hoping to get y’all to come to your senses, that’s what I was trying to demonstrate. You see, placing my weapon to my own neck was a metaphor—”
“We get it,” I said, slowly lowering my gun. Treven did the same.
“I’m waiting for someone to thank me for not doing the campfire scene,” Dox said.
Larison was still grinning, and I imagined this was the first time he appreciated just how cool Dox could be when the shit was hitting the fan. And how much method there was to his hillbilly madness. “Oh baby, you are so talented,” he said, and it was incongruous enough to make me realize it must have been another line from the movie.
“And they are so dumb,” Dox said, confirming my suspicion. They both laughed, and I thought maybe they would be okay now. He wasn’t a man you’d want to fuck with, but laugh at Dox’s jokes and chances were good you’d have a friend for life.
Treven, though, was still an open question. I slid the gun back into my waistband. Treven hesitated, but then followed suit.
“Let’s try to stay chilly,” I said. “We have enough people trying to kill us just