Dirt (Stone Barrington 2)

“He’s very good.”

“Is he still working on this?”

“He’s being called off today. I’m afraid that if he finds them and the police start talking to them, too much of this will get into the papers.”

Bianchi nodded. “I see. Is there anything else you can tell me about these two?”

“No, that’s all Barrington has been able to find out.”

“And it’s only these two you wish me to deal with?”

“There’s a third.” He handed Bianchi a slip of paper. “I haven’t decided what to do about that one yet. If we move, it will have to be an accident; I’ll let you know later about that.”

“I see. So you wish me to find these two young men and then…”

“I want a permanent solution; I don’t want to hear about them again,” Hickock said. “Ever.”

Bianchi nodded. “I don’t blame you; it is what I would do, in the circumstances.”

“I apologize for bringing up money, but I know this will be expensive.”

“You are very kind, Dickie.”

Hickock removed a thick envelope from his other overcoat pocket and handed it to Bianchi. “There’s fifty thousand in there,” he said. “I hope that will cover it.”

“I believe so,” Bianchi said, “unless there are unusual complications.”

“I’m very grateful to you, Ricky,” Hickock said.

Bianchi shrugged. “It is at times like this that one must come to one’s old friends. I am sorry that circumstances prevent us from meeting more often, when there is no business to discuss.”

“I’m sorry for that, too, old friend. Do you know that we have seen each other only a half-dozen times since Yale? I feel badly that I only come to you when I have problems.”

“Do not concern yourself,” Bianchi said. “I know your heart.”

“You are a good friend, Ricky.”

Bianchi embraced Hickock again. “I must go; there is always business to do. I will be in touch through the usual channels when this business of yours has been completed.”

“Good-bye, Ricky.”

“Good-bye, Dickie.”

The two men parted, and each walked to his own elevator.

There was a man waiting for Bianchi on the ground floor, and he handed him the magazine. On the way back to the car he imparted the information he had just learned. “Make copies of this photograph, small ones; put the word out on the street, especially in the good bars and restaurants, that we want to locate both of them. There will be a two-thousand-dollar reward for this information. When they have both – not one, but both – been found, they should die in a way that will seem to be an ordinary crime – a mugging, a robbery. There will be five thousand each for this work, but for the money to be paid, they must both be killed, you understand?”

The man nodded. “Si, padrone,” he said.

They had reached the car. Bianchi held a finger to his lips for silence, then they got in.

“Stone?”

“Yes, Amanda, what’s up?”

“I had lunch with Dick Hickock today, and we’ve decided to call off the DIRT investigation.”

“Really?” Stone asked, surprised. “Why?”