“Janet, Poslow Senior here. Do I have any messages?”
“Yes, sir, you got a call this morning from Mr. Twifter. No message, just wanted to know if you checked in. And Poslow Junior called as well. He left a contact number.”
“Give it.” I key the number in as she talks, then give her a polite, “Thank you,” and hang up so I can press send again. I let out a long breath as I listen to it ring.
Merc picks up on the second ring too. I love consistency. “Jasus f**king Christ, where the hell have you been?”
“Traveling. You think I have hidden wormholes I can pop in and out of to get places or what?”
“Yeah, well, Twifter is not happy, ass**le.”
“Twifter can kiss my ass. None of that shit this morning was me. But anyway, we’re here. Thanks for the beer.” I take a swig and let out a long, “Ahhh,” trying to piss off Merc, but that’s when I see the Smurf watching me from the jail cell up on the foyer terrace. “Call you later,” I say, and then I press end on the phone. “What the f**k you doing up there?”
“Who the hell were you talking to?” she snarls back.
“Merc.” I hold up my beer and give her a pretend cheers.
“Obviously that phone call was Merc. Before Merc, who the hell were you talking to?”
“My secretary.” She stares at me and then gets up and walks to the jail cell door. That little shit was sleeping up in that jail cell. What a freak. “Why? I ask her. “You got a problem with me making calls?”
She walks towards the steps and stops at the top. She’s all sweaty and flushed from the heat, and her hair is still wet from her earlier shower. The scratches from the thorn run-in this morning are still there, but now that the dried blood has been properly washed away, they are not so bad. She looks better and worse all at the same time. She looks unstable.
“When you make a call to an associate from a phone that’s supposedly not secure, a phone that had some cryptic message you tried to blame on me, then yeah. I have a big f**king problem.”
“Watch your f**king mouth around me, kid. Or I’ll smack the shit out of it.”
She reaches behind her and pulls out a gun and points it at me. “Is that right?”
“You better shoot me right the f**k now. Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you just for pointing that weapon at me.”
She reevaluates her target and decides on a spot above my head. Smurfette is clever. “Who were you talking to?”
I eye the diameter of the chamber on her weapon and guesstimate .40. “You sure you can handle that thing? It’s got a nice kick to it. And if you miss me, I won’t miss you.”
“I don’t miss. And I’ve been shooting this Glock for a while now. So I’ll happily take my chances. Now, who were you talking to?”
“I already told you. My secretary, checking for messages. And Merc, returning a call.”
“You were checking in. Who’s running this operation?”
“I thought you knew?”
She thinks about this for a few seconds. Gives it some consideration before she answers. “I know who I’m working for. I know who sent you to get me. And I don’t think we’re on the same side anymore.”
“That’s too bad then,” I tell her with a shrug of my shoulders. “I was just beginning to like you. I was starting to hope I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
“Funny,” she says with a coolness that sends a chill up my arm. “I was thinking the same thing.”
My guffaw echoes off the ceiling and I have a genuine moment of amusement. “Looks like we’re at an impasse, then.”
She stays silent, but her hard stare never wavers.
“So let’s make a deal.”
“I don’t make deals with terrorists.”
Another laugh bursts forth. “Kid, even the American government cuts deals with the terrorists these days. So dismount the high horse and listen.”
She waves her hand at me, like I need her personal invitation to keep talking. I ignore her bravado because she’s earned it at the moment, and start picking my way through the minefield. “You have a measurable objective? Or just doing recon?”
“Why would I tell you that?” she snorts. “I must look like an idiot to you. You must think I’m a joke. And that’s fine, you know. Because I like to be underestimated. If those guys out at my grandparent’s ranch had assessed me properly, well, I’d be dead right now, wouldn’t I? So be my guest, Tet. Give it your best shot. But I’ve grown up around every scumbag killer you can imagine. I know how to pick out the good ones. And it only took my nine-year-old self thirty seconds back at the Boise gun show to figure out you were never even in the running. You… are a very bad guy.”
My fists are clenching the entire time she’s talking and by the time she’s finished, my palms are aching to hit something. It’s not what she said that pisses me off. It’s what she didn’t say. But I’m the professional here, so I keep my cool. “Yeah, got it. You still worship the ground Ford walks on. He’s the hero and I’m the villain.”
“You and Merc are both the bad guys. I saw it in Merc too. Before he got my dad killed he was just another ass**le. But after the accident I had a lot of time to think it over. He’s not really an ass**le.” She pauses. Choosing her words or reconsidering or who the f**k knows what this little monster is doing.