threats yourself, haven't you? I'll bet you have.'
'Not that many,' I said. 'But then I haven't had my name in the papers all that much.'
'But you've had some.'
'Yes.'
'Did you pack a bag and hop a plane?'
I took a sip of club soda, remembering. 'A couple of years ago,' I said, 'a man I'd sent to prison got out determined to kill me. He was going to start out by killing the women in my life. There weren't any women in my life, not at the time, but his definition turned out to be broader than mine.'
'What did you do?'
'I called an ex-girlfriend,' I said, 'and I told her to pack a bag and leave the country. And she packed a bag and left the country.'
'And lived to tell the tale. But what did you do?'
'Me?'
'You. My guess is you stayed around.'
'And went after him,' I said. 'But that was different. I knew who he was. I had a fair shot at getting him
before he got me.' I frowned at the memory. 'Even so, I came awfully close to getting myself killed.
Elaine came even closer. She got stabbed, she had her spleen removed. She almost died.'
'Didn't you say she left the country?'
'That was another woman, a former girlfriend. Elaine's my wife.'
'I thought you didn't have any women in your life at the time.'
'We weren't married then. We'd known each other years previously. Motley brought us together again.'
'Motley was the guy who wanted to kill you.'
'Right.'
'And after she recovered—Elaine?'
'Elaine.'
'After she recovered you resumed seeing each other, and now you're married. A good marriage?'
'A very good marriage.'
'My God,' he said. 'Maybe if I stick around and see this thing through I'll wind up back in Connecticut with Barbara. But it's hard to imagine her without her spleen. It's the key element of her character.' He took a drink. 'In the meantime, my friend, I've got a law practice to run and a case to try. Tempting as it may be to fly off for a couple of weeks in Oslo or Brussels, I think I'll stick around and face the music.
But that doesn't mean I want to get killed, nor do I think it makes much sense to leave the task of protecting me to the NYPD. I'm safe here—'
'Here?'
'In this apartment. The building has good security.'
'I don't think Will would have much trouble getting in here.'
'Didn't the guy on the desk make you show ID? I told him to.'
'I flashed a card at him,' I said. 'I didn't give him time to look at it, and he didn't insist.'
'I'll have to speak to him about that.'
'Don't bother. You can't expect very much from the building personnel. The elevator's self-service. All anybody has to do is take out the doorman and he's in.'
'Take him out? You mean kill him?'
'Or just slip past him, which wouldn't be on the same level with getting into Fort Knox. If you want a good shot at getting through this alive, and if you won't leave town, you need bodyguards around the clock. That means three shifts a day, and I'd recommend you employ two men per shift.'
'Would you be one of those men?'
I shook my head. 'I don't like the work and I don't have the reflexes for it.'
'Can you supply bodyguards?'
'Not directly. I'm a one-man operation. There are people I can call for backup, but not as many as you'd need. What I can do is recommend a couple of agencies who can be counted on to furnish reliable operatives.'
I took out my notebook, wrote down the names of two firms, along with a phone number for each and a person to ask for. I tore out the page and handed it to Whitfield. He read it, folded it, and tucked it in his breast pocket.
'No point in calling now,' he said. 'I'll call first thing in the morning. If Will lets me live that long.'
'You've probably got a few days. He'll wait until the story runs, and until you've had time to worry about it.'
'He's a real prick, isn't he?'
