|
|
|
|
|
|
|
fall, it had nothing to do with logic. The bargain he had struck with the witchthe woman intended to hold him to it! |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He wandered aimlessly about the apartment looking for something, anything that might allow him to hold onto his rapidly eroding hope for a reprieve. The closets were empty, the cupboards scrubbed and cleaned, even the cosmetics were removed from the vanity in the bathroom. It was exactly as Armond had said. Kristen Masters, for all practical purposes, had ceased to exist, and Charlie knew in his heart that he would never be able to prove that she ever had existed. He walked back into the room and confronted the old man again. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Look," he said, "money talks. I've got moneylots of it. Maybe money isn't your thing, old man, but I'll guarantee you one thingmoney will talk to your mistress. You call her and tell her I'll pay her a walk away price. Tell her I'll hand it over to you in cash, cold, hard cash, with a bow wrapped around it." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Raymond Armond shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Frazier. You must return to Sixkill for the day of settlement." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Small crystals of sweat began to appear on Charlie's flushed temples. His voice had lost much of the tinny overtones of bravado and confidence. "Every deal has a bottom line," |
|
|
|
|
|