177249.fb2 The Soul Collectors - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 44

The Soul Collectors - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 44

34

Darby took the phone and said, 'With whom am I speaking?'

'Are you with Mr Keats right now?'

The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Leland Pratt. Even at this early morning hour, his voice sounded crystal clear. At the moment he was doing a good job of containing his anger, but it was there, waiting to explode.

'Darby?'

She didn't answer, too interested in Keats. He sat with his hands folded on his lap, staring at her from across the wide, messy desk. That greasy smile of his had disappeared, but he was obviously enjoying the show he had just arranged. His eyes were dangerously bright, as if he were containing himself, waiting for someone to give him the order to pounce.

'Yesterday evening, the United States Army came to my home and personally delivered copies of documents that you signed,' Leland said. 'Do you know the documents I'm referring to?'

'I do. Have you looked through them?'

'I have. The question is, have you?'

'Anything missing?'

'Darby, if you value any sort of career opportunity in law enforcement, I suggest you go with the two men Mr Keats has there with him. They'll escort you back to your home. Shower and dress in your Sunday best, understand? We have an early-morning meeting with Robert Chambers, the interim police commissioner.'

'What's the occasion?'

'You know full well what he wants to discuss with you.'

'The conditions of my re-employment or this business that took place in New Hampshire? Which is it?'

'I don't think you fully see the implications of your current situation,' he said, straining to remain calm.

She stood.

'And I'm through negotiating with you,' Leland said. 'If you choose not to work for me, that is, of course, your decision. But if you want -'

Darby pulled the phone away from her ear and, with her eyes on Keats, reached across the desk to hang it up. She walked around to the other side of the desk and sat on the edge, close to Keats, her legs touching his thigh.

She crossed her arms over her chest. 'How long have you been with the Secret Service?'

'Excuse me?'

She had to hand it to the guy: he had a great poker face. No look of surprise, he just cocked his head to the side, actually looking confused.

'The small hole in the left lapel of your suit jacket,' she said. 'You and the two linebackers guarding the doorway so nobody will disturb us? You all have the same small hole in the same spot. That's where you guys wear your SS high-level clearance pin or the other one when you're on protection detail, to let everyone know you're Secret Service.'

Keats chuckled, shaking his head. 'You have quite an imagination.'

'I don't think you're protecting me. If you were, you would have been a lot smoother than the two bozos parked at the end of my street. My guess is you're using me, watching me to see if I can draw these guys out.'

'What guys?'

'The ones who blew up the Rizzo house with dynamite,' she said. 'The ones I met tonight at the blast site.'

Keats's poker face didn't change. She let him chew on the silence, hoping he'd take the bait.

'I'm the head of security here, Miss McCormick. Sorry to disappoint you.'

'Okay, I'll play along. Who arranged the phone call with my former boss?'

'Sergeant-Major Glick. I'm just following his orders.'

'So let me talk to him.'

'He's unavailable.'

'When will he be available?'

'I wouldn't know. Maybe you should call his secretary.'

'Okay, let's head up to his office. I know it's early, but I don't mind waiting. Now that I'm unemployed, I can wait all day.'

'Let me ask you a question. What's your stake in all of this? Why not take your old job back?'

Because I know you're just another lying federal asshole. Because I know you're not looking for Mark Rizzo. Because I made a promise to the kid who had been abducted and turned into some sort of goddamn circus freak.

Darby didn't answer.

'Well,' he said, slapping his knees. 'My job here is done. Nice meeting you, Miss McCormick.'

He started to get up. Darby put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his chair.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the linebackers move to the office doorway.

'Prove me wrong,' she said to Keats.

'About what?'

'That you're not Secret Service. Empty out all of your pockets and let me see what you're carrying.'

Keats stared at her. Hard.

'Let's check out your wrists,' she said, 'see if we can find a microphone.'

She reached forward and clutched his left wrist, about to turn it around when Keats grabbed her forearm. The fabric of his suit jacket had moved and she caught the wink of the butt-end of a gun sitting inside a shoulder holster.

'I've been a gentleman up until now,' he said. 'But you're invading my personal space.'

'Get used to it.' Darby let go her grip and stood. 'I'll let myself out. I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure.'