avarice.
‘The pluses and the minuses,’ he muttered aloud.
‘Ah, yes, the pluses and the minuses.’
In the end Hotchins knew he had no choice. When he stripped away the emotional considerations, as he always had, as he always would, it came down to the simple formula. The pluses and the minuses.
Well?’ DeLaroza said.
‘Do. . . what you think . . . is best.’
‘No. You are the one who makes the decisions. Nobody pulls your strings, is that not correct? So, tell me. Say it, Donald.’
He shook his head.
‘Then we shall let nature take its course?’
‘No!’
‘No? Then tell me, what shall 1 do?
Hotchins lowered his head like a child.
‘Just take care of it.’
‘Say it,’ DeLaroza demanded.
But Hotchins just shook his head again. He tried to say it but the words crumbled in his mouth like ashes. The moment of reckoning had passed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The lingering stench of death, the bitter smell of cordite which seemed to hang obstinately in the air, the rancid salty odour of dried blood, the oppressiveness of the closed room was overwhelming. Sharky leaned against the door, staring at the pockmarks in the wall, the brown stains streaking down to the floor. Faltering images played at the back of his mind, images he wanted to forget but needed to remember.
He was close to exhaustion. His bones ached; his lungs hurt when he breathed; his vision was fuzzy, his mouth dry and hot. He went into the kitchen, found a Coke in the refrigerator, and sat down at the kitchen table to drink it. He decided to start in the kitchen as long as he was there.
He took a legal pad and a felt-tip pen out of the small briefcase he had brought with him and wrote the word
The room was neat, tidy, sparking clean. The counter- tops were bare except for an antique wine rack in one corner, some appliances, and a paper sack with two wineglasses and a corkscrew beside it on the counter near the sink. He checked the garbage pail. It was clean enough to cook in. Next he checked the paper bag, using his pen to spread the top open. There was a bottle of wine inside and a sales slip. The wine had been purchased the previous day from Richard’s Fine Wines. It cost eighteen dollars.
He started his list:
During the next two hours Sharky carefully analysed each room in the apartment. As the list grew his adrenalin started pumping again, warming the aches away, providing a second wind. When be was finished, he went back to the kitchen and started a new list under the heading Sign1 cant. When he finished the list, he sat back and smiled. His eyes had lost the dull, glassy look of fatigue. He smacked his hands together and said, ‘God damn!’ aloud and reached for the phone, pacing the length of the cord while it rang half a dozen times.
‘Yeah,’ Livingston said hoarsely. For a moment he was completely disorganized. He could not remember what day it was or where he was.
‘It’s Sharky.’
Livingston opened and closed his eyes several times and cleared his throat.
‘Yeah?’
‘Can you get over here?’
‘Where, man?’
‘Domino’s apartment.’
‘Oh, yeah. Well, uh, what time is it?’
‘Hell I don’t know, it’s. . . a quarter to six.’
‘Shit, I’ve only had two hours’ sleep.’
‘Arch, get over here fast.’
‘You got something?’
‘I got enough to wake you up real good, man. Get it over here fast as you can.’
