“Kill you, and wait for Fairfax to come back to town.”
Mr. Carter made a tent of his fingers ^d studied it. His lips pursed and relaxed, pursed and relaxed. He looked up from under his brows at Parker and said, “I believe you. And if I call, and this gentleman refuses, as I know he will?”
“I don’t know,” Parker told him. “Let’s see what he has to say.”
Mr. Carter thought about it some more. Finally he said, “Very well. You’re not going to get anywhere, but I’ll call.” He reached for the phone and dialed. Parker watched, remembering the number. Mr. Carter waited a moment, then said, “Fred Carter to talk to your boss, sweetheart.” He paused, then frowned with annoyance and said, “Tell him Fred Carter.” Another pause and, with more irritation, he said, “Bronson. I want to talk to Bronson.”
Parker smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back.
There was a longer wait before Bronson came on the line, and then Mr. Carter said, “Fred Carter here. I’m sorry to call you about this, but there’s a problem. And your secretary made me say your name. No, I didn’t want to — there’s someone else here. That’s essentially the problem.”
Parker sat listening as Mr. Carter outlined the situation. He smiled again when Mr. Carter said the money had come from a payroll robbery in Des Moines. After that, he just sat and listened.
When the story was done, there was a pause and Mr. Carter said, “I explained all that to him. He insisted I call or he’d kill me. He’s already killed his ex-wife and this man Resnick, and God knows how many others.”
“Nine,” said Parker, though he didn’t know if that was right or not.
There was more talk. Finally Mr. Carter said, “All right. Hold on.” He cupped the mouthpiece. “He wants to call one of the other two, in Florida. Then he’ll call us back.”
Parker shook his head. “The second you hang up, he’ll send an army. We do it in one phone call.”
Mr. Carter relayed the information, then said to Parker, “He says in that case the answer is no.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“He wants to talk to you.” Mt. Carter handed over the receiver.
Parker said, “How much is this guy Carter worth to you?”
The voice in his ear was harsh and angry. “What do you mean?”
“Either I get paid, or Carter is dead.”
“I don’t like to be threatened.”
“No one does. If you say no, I’ll kill Mr. Carter, and then I’ll come after you. We’ll let your buddy in Florida decide. And if he says no, I’ll kill you and go after him.”
“You can’t buck the organization, you damn fool!”
“Yes or no.”
Parker waited, looking at nothing, hearing only the sound of breathing on the line. At last the angry voice said: “You’ll regret it. You’ll never get away from us.”
“Yes or no.”
“No.”
“Hold on a minute.”
Parker put the phone down and started around the desk. Mr. Carter blinked at him, then dove for the middle desk drawer. He got it open, but Parker’s hand was first on the gun.
Mr. Carter lunged up from the chair, trying to wrestle the gun away from him, and Parker shoved it hard into his belly, to muffle the sound. He pulled the trigger, and Mr. Carter slid down him, half-falling back into the chair and then rolling out of it, hitting his head on the desk as he fell the rest of the way to the floor.
Parker put the gun down and picked up the phone. “All right,” he said. “He’s dead. I’ve got your name and phone number. In five minutes I’ll have your address. In twenty-four hours I’ll have you in my hands. Yes or no?”
“In twenty-four hours you’ll be dead! No lone man can buck the organization.”
“I’ll be seeing you,” Parker said.
Chapter 2
When Justin Fairfax walked into his parkside Fifth Avenue apartment, he had two bodyguards with him, but they were both carrying luggage. When Parker met them in the living room he already had Mr. Carter’s gun in his hand. “Don’t put the luggage down,” he said.
Fairfax was angry anyway. His Florida vacation had been cut short by what was obviously a lot of nonsense. He glowered at Parker and demanded, “Who are you? What’s the meaning of this?” The bodyguards stood flat-footed, holding the luggage. They weren’t paid to be foolhardy.
Parker said, “I’m the reason you’re back in New York. Stand over there by the sofa. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“You’re Parker?”
“Stand over there by the sofa.”
Fairfax backed cautiously to the sofa, watching Parker’s face. He was looking at a man who had challenged the organization. 1 le wanted to know what such a man would look like.
To the bodyguards, Parker said, “Turn around. Hold on to that luggage.”
