Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

"So I noticed," he murmured. "Yet you must have a weapon hidden somewhere on that pretty body. I'd bet on it."

"How much?"

He tilted his head, gaze traveling over me, studying me with a scientist's eye. "Unarmed. That is most...peculiar." His gaze lifted to mine, head slanting the other way. "I do hope, my dear, that you didn't intend to use your body as your weapon because, I assure you, I am quite immune."

"Well that's good, because when it comes to the Mata Hari routine..." I shook my head. "Hopeless. Guns are really more my thing, but that just didn't seem right. You want to talk to someone, you don't pull a gun on them.

Very disrespectful."

"Quite so." He leaned back in his chair. "So you wish to talk? And what would a young lady like you want to talk to me about? Employment, perhaps? An interesting way to go about it. Much more...personally revealing than dropping off a resume."

"Actually, it's an employee I want to talk to you about, not employment. A former employee, that is." I gestured at the row of screens. "Camera number six. Recognize him?"

He looked for a few seconds, then shook his head.

"Try this. Pick up the phone, dial 555-2978."

"And say what?"

"Nothing. Just try it. Please."

He did. The phone in Jack's pocket vibrated, and he looked straight into the camera, and mouthed something.

"Jack," Gallagher said, twisting the name into a curse.

"He said you might not be happy to see him. That's why I'm here doing the talking instead of him. Well, that, and I'm much better at talking."

"So I noticed. I take it then that you are a..." He let the sentence fall away, as if he couldn't come up with a "polite" term for what I did.

"Right," I said. "I'm working something with Jack, and we need something from you."

He laughed, the sound a nails-on-chalkboard screech. I waited through it, then continued.

"And yes, Jack knows he's in no position to ask for a favor, which is why he sent me with an offer. An exchange of information. Seems you hired someone a while back to make a hit, and he double-crossed you."

Gallagher's eyes narrowed. "No one double-crosses me."

Gallagher locked gazes with me, but I just sat there, and waited him out.

"Double-crossed me how?" he said finally, mouth barely opening to let the words out.

"He told the mark about the hit, collected a tidy sum for the info, waited until the guy skedaddled to Europe, then came back, told you it was done and collected again."

"And Jack expects me to pay for the name of this traitor?" A tight laugh. "My dear, all I'd need to do is run a more thorough verification of the hits I've called."

"Sure, but Jack thought this might be faster. A lot faster, considering you're a high-volume customer." When Gallagher hesitated, I went on. "How about this? I tell you what we need and you decide if it's worth it?"

Another hesitation, then he waved for me to continue.

"Twenty years ago you bought a hit on a man under the protection of the Nikolaev family. The man's name was Sasha Fomin. We'd like to know who you hired for the hit."

Gallagher waited. When I didn't go on, his lips pursed. "And that's it? Jack wants to know who I hired on a twenty-year-old contract?"

"If you remember..."

"Of course, I remember, my dear girl. I don't forget anything. Including an insult. You make sure you tell Jack that."

"Jack insulted you by refusing to take your jobs? Well, he's lining up a whole battalion of enemies then. Between you and me, sir, I think the guy has a serious attention deficit problem. Does a job here, a job there, gets antsy and moves on. He doesn't mean any disrespect...he just can't seem to keep at one thing for very long. I think it's his age. Been in the business too long. I'm already counting the hours until he tosses me aside."