as work had stopped. Getting out, shutting the door, he moved around behind the Ford and leaned on it. As soon as it started to move, he stepped back, peeling off the gloves, putting them in his pocket, and watched the car bounce down through the rocks and trash till it shoved into the water, making a modest ripple in front of itself that opened out and out and didn't stop till it pinged against the stone at the far side of the quarry. As the car angled down, the black water all around it became suddenly crystal clear as it splashed in through the open windows. The roof sank, a few bubbles appeared, and then only the ripple, going out, slowly fading.
He walked back along the state road to the Mobil station, getting there five minutes early, and leaned against the pay phone, at the outer corner of the station property. A couple of customers came in for gas, paying no attention to him. It was self-serve, so the attendant stayed inside his convenience store.
At two minutes after eleven, the phone rang. Parker stepped around into the booth, which was just a three- sided metal box on a stick, picked up the receiver, and said, 'Yes.'
It was Elkins' voice: 'So I guess you're not too busy right now.'
'Not busy,' Parker agreed.
'I got something,' Elkins told him. 'Me and Ralph.' Meaning the partner he almost always paired with, Ralph Wiss. 'But it won't be easy.'
They were never easy. Parker said, 'Where?'
'Soon. Sooner the better. We got a deadline.'
That was different. Usually, the jobs didn't come with deadlines. Parker said, 'You want me to listen?'
'Not now,' Elkins said. He sounded surprised.
'I didn't mean now.'
'Oh. Yeah, if you wanna take a drive.'
'Where?'
'Lake Placid.'
A resort in northern New York State, close to Canada. If that was the spot for the meet, it wouldn't be the spot for the work. Parker said, 'When?'
'Three tomorrow afternoon?'
Meaning a seven-hour drive, from eight in the morning. Parker said, 'Because of your deadline.'
'And we don't like to keep things hang around.'
Which was true. The longer a job was in the planning, the more chance the law would get wind of it. Parker said, 'I can make that,' and the Lexus turned in from the road.
'At the Holiday Inn,' Elkins said. 'Unless you know anybody up that way.'
'I do,' Parker said. 'Viktor Charov. You want to
meet there?' Claire swung the Lexus around to put the passenger door next to the phone.
'Viktor Charov,' Elkins said. Til find him.' 'Good,' Parker said.
2
'I made a reservation yesterday,' Parker said. 'Viktor Charov.'
'Oh, yes, sir,' the clerk said. 'I think we even have a message for you.'
'Good.'
He checked in, writing different things on the form, signing Charov's small crabbed signature, while she went to get the message from the cubbyholes. It was in a Holiday Inn envelope, with victor charov hand-printed on the front. While she ran Charov's credit card, he opened the envelope, opened the Holiday Inn stationery inside, and read '342.'
He pocketed the message, signed the credit card form, and accepted the key card for 219. He left his bag in that room, then went down the hall to 243 and knocked on the door. He waited a minute, the hall empty, and then Frank Elkins opened it. A rangy, forty-ish man, he looked like a carpenter or a bus driver, except for his eyes, which never stopped moving. He looked at Parker, past him, around him, at him, and said, 'Right on time.'
'Yes,' Parker said, and stepped in, looking at the other two in the room while Elkins shut the door.
The one he knew was Elkins' partner, Ralph Wiss, a safe and lock man, small and narrow, with sharp nose and chin. The other one didn't look right in this company. Early thirties, medium build gone a bit to flab, he had a round neat head, thinning sandy hair, and a pale forgettable face except for prominent horn-rim eyeglasses. While Parker and the other two were dressed in dark trousers and shirts and jackets, this one was in a blue button-down shirt with pens in a pen protector in the pocket, plus uncreased chinos and bulky elaborate sneakers. Parker looked at this one, waiting for an explanation, and Elkins came past him to say, 'You know Ralph. This is Larry Lloyd. Larry, this is Parker.'
'Hi,' Lloyd said, coming forward with a nervous smile to shake hands. 'I knew Otto Mainzer on the inside,' he added, as though to prove his bona fides. 'I think you used to know him, too.'
This was a double surprise. First, that somebody who looked like this had ever been in prison, and second that Mainzer still was. Parker said, 'Otto isn't out?'
'He hit a guard,' Lloyd said, and shrugged. The nervous grin seemed to be a part of him, like his hair. 'He hit people a lot, but then he hit a guard.'
'Sounds like Otto,' Parker said.
