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"That's right, and it woulda been yours if you fulfilled the terms of the contract. capice?" |
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"For good measure, my clients say you can keep the five grand advance as kill fee. Pretty generous, if you ask me." |
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He was right, of course, Jerry knew. Plan B violated the contract. The Wileys were supposed to die in a house fire while they slept. Under the circumstances Roman could have announced he was being retired from Black Flag without a kill fee. But he knew too much: names, connections, details that could compromise Roman's people. Instinct told him that the government would be very unhappy if he went public. It was what he didn't know that fired his interest even more now. |
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There was one more name on the list, one more face in the photo. Who could tell what he might find under it? His advantage was that Roman's people did not know what information he had managed to glean from the first two assignments. They could not retire him without risking his doubling back, which left them only two choices: putting him on hold as Roman said, or putting a bullet through his voice box. |
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"Something for your people." |
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"Anything happens to me, my insurance man has instructions to send copies of my will to 20/20." |
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"What's that mean?" Roman had no idea what the hell 20/20 was. |
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"Means if anybody comes popping at me, you're gonna see Black Flag on Barbara Walters. Capice?" |
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He'd heard of her. "Well, I'll pass that on." |
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"You do that," Jerry said, and hung up. |
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The Topsfield turnoff was another six miles up. It was nearly eight-fifteen. Doors closed at nine, no exception. He had already missed inspections, which meant he'd be betting blind. The traffic was on his side. |
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He drove to the turnoff onto one dark country road after another |
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