They stood facing each other. Parker held out his hands where Mal could see them, curved, ready to fit around Mal’s neck. “Who’s the boss in New York, Mal?”
“They’ll kill me, Parker, they’ll — “
“Not if you’re already dead.” Parker rested his hands on Mal’s neck, just easy, not squeezing yet. His arms were straight out, and this way he was unprotected should Mal decide to kick him in the groin or punch him in the stomach, but he knew Mal wouldn’t try anything like that. He didn’t have anything to worry about from Mal. Mal was easy.
Mal’s lip quivered, and then he said, “There’s two of them, Mr. Fairfax and Mr. Carter. They run things in New York, Mr. Fairfax and Mr. Carter.”
“And where do I find them, Mal?”
“Mr. Fairfax isn’t in town right now.” Mal’s tongue came out, moistening his lips, and his eyes flickered to the corner where Parker had thrown the gun.
“Parker,” he said, pleading, “we can work something — “
“Where do I find Carter?”
“Please, Parker, it won’t do you any good. You couldn’t get in to see him anyway, and we can work — “
Parkers hands tensed and relaxed on Mal’s neck. “Where do I find Carter?”
Mal hesitated, flickered his eyes, gestured with his hands, shifted his weight back and forth from leg to leg, and capitulated. “582 Fifth Avenue,” he said. He closed his eyes, as though then it wouldn’t really be him telling. “He’s got an office there, Frederick Carter Investments. Seventh floor, I forget the num-ber.”
Parker let his hands fall away from Mal’s neck. “Fine,” he said. “That’s fine.”
Mal wanted to plead again, started to say something again about how they could work something out, but Parker stopped him. “Tell me about the office. You say I couldn’t get in. Why not?”
Mal told him about the layout of the office, the silent man who came out, and what the silent man said when it was someone Mr. Carter didn’t want to see.
Parker nodded, listening, and said. “You been there recently, huh, Mal? When you heard I was after you?” He looked around the room. “They threw you away, huh? They wouldn’t help you?”
“They said it was up to me. Mr. Carter said so.”
Parker laughed at him. “They should have known better, huh, Mal?”
Then he took Mal’s neck in his hands again, and this time he didn’t let go till Mal stopped breathing.
FOUR
Chapter 1
The silent man pulled open the unmarked door and looked out at Parker. He hesitated and then said, “Can I help you?” He sounded puzzled. He didn’t recognize Parker as an Outfit man, but he didn’t look like an investment customer either.
Parker said, “Tell your boss the guy who killed Mal Resnick is here.”
The puzzlement on the silent man’s face shifted subtly from real to fake. He said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t have to,” Parker said.
He turned his back and walked over to one of the sofas. Sitting down, he reached over to the table and picked up a copy of U.S. News & World Report. He read on the cover that the automobile industry was recovering.
The silent man stood watching him, not knowing what to do. When Parker didn’t look up, he shrugged and went out and closed the door again. Parker put the magazine down and got to his feet. He studied the two fox-hunting prints on the wall, but neither were one-way mirrors. He looked at the unmarked door. The knob was a golden brass, with the keyhole set in it. It looked like a tough lock. Parker thought of three men he knew who could go through it like a knife through butter.
Five minutes went by, and the silent man came back, looking mistrustful. He said, “Mr. Carter will see you. I’ve got to frisk you first.”
Parker raised his arms at his sides. Mal was dead now, and the mean urgency was out of him. He was reasonable now, a businessman coming to discuss a debt. The silent man could frisk him — it didn’t matter.
The silent man finished and stepped back. “You’re clean,” he said grudgingly. He unlocked the door and led the way through. They went through the gray office and the living room — bar into Mr. Carter’s office. Mr. Carter sat at his desk, reading a mimeographed stock report. He looked up and said, “I didn’t know Mal was dead.”
“He is.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt your word.” He motioned at the leather chair Mal had sat in. “Sit down there.”
The silent man was behind Parker. He turned away, heading for his chair in the corner, and Parker spun around, Left hand extended, fingers rigid. The tips of his fingers jolted into the silent man’s side, just above the belt. The silent man grunted and bent sideways, trying to breathe. Parker’s right hand came across, balled in a fist, and clipped the side of his jaw, just under the ear. The silent man started to fall, and before he hit the floor Parker had the .32 out of his hip holster. He turned back and Mr. Carter was still reaching into his drawer. He stopped when he saw the .32 pointed at him.
Parker said, “Close the drawer.”
Mr. Carter looked at his man on the floor and closed the drawer. Parker broke the .32 open and emptied the shells into his hand. The noses had been scored, to make them spread when they hit. He walked over to the desk and put the .32 on the green blotter. The shells rattled into the wastebasket.
