Firebreak

'All right. What are you supposed to do if it's me?'

'There's a phone number I'm to call, let it ring twice, hang up. Then Marie and I are to pack and go home and they'll send us a check for the rest of the money.'

'Where's this phone number?'

The man pointed at the table next to where he'd been reading. 'Over there, under the phone.'

Parker went over, moved the phone, found a small square of white paper beneath it from a Marriott Hotel memo pad. A seven-digit number was on the paper, nothing else. He said, 'What area code?'

'None,' the man said. 'It's a local call.'

Parker frowned. He didn't like that. Moving away from the table, leaving the paper out next to the phone, he said, 'Sit down again, where you were.'

'All right.' He went over to pick up his book, then sit. With a small rueful smile, he said, 'I don't believe I'll read,' and put the book on the floor on the other side from the phone table.

Parker stood in the middle of the room, looking around, thinking. Lloyd watched him, then said, 'What's wrong?'

'Don't know yet.'

It should be the shooter here, not a watchdog. They're waiting for Parker to come home, walk into his house. The minute the camera sees him, the shooter should be on his way. But they do this thing instead, hire some couple to make a homey look, an extra phone call to a shooter somewhere nearby, but why? Why isn't the shooter the one looking at the television set?

Parker pointed to the sofa, and told Lloyd, 'Sit there. Listen for the wife. Or anything else.'

'You don't like this setup, do you?' Lloyd asked.

Parker crossed to the kitchen, took a wooden chair from there, brought it back to the living room, placed it where he could sit in front of the man but off-center, so Lloyd could still see them both. He said, 'Tell me your name.'

'Hembridge. Arthur.'

'Arthur or Art?'

Another rueful smile. 'I used to be Art. I seem to be Arthur these days.'

'You took a strange job here, Arthur,' Parker said.

'I don't get much of anything to do any more,' Arthur said. 'It's good to have a little extra in your kick.'

'How come it's your job? Who hired you?'

'Fella I used to know in my working days,' Arthur said.

'Where did you work, Arthur?'

Arthur leaned back, thoughtful, looking from Parker to Lloyd and back to Parker. 'I don't believe I know you two,' he said.

Parker said, 'You worked on the wrong side of the law.'

'Maybe we could leave it at that,' Arthur said.

'This fella— You still in touch with him?'

'Hadn't heard from him in eight years.'

'Gives you a call, offers you a job, money's good enough but not great, you aren't doing anything else, the wife says it might make a nice change, you say okay.'

'That's about it.'

'This fella isn't a close friend,' Parker suggested.

Arthur shrugged. 'We always got along. Never close, you know.'

'I know.' Parker leaned forward, elbows on knees, watching Arthur's face. 'When you left to come out here,' he said, 'this fella gave you something you

were supposed to leave behind, for the people who'd take over after you made the phone call.'

Arthur frowned at him. 'I don't know where you're heading here,' he said.

Parker leaned back. 'Did they tell you what the surveillance was for?'

'A fella used to be with them,' Arthur said, 'they think flipped for Customs, then he disappeared. They want to know what he gave them, what they have to change.'

'Talk to him. That what you believe?'

Arthur shook his head. 'I don't know what's likely to happen after the conversation,' he said. 'That's not my department. But I believe it starts with talk, yes, so they know what their exposure is. Maybe it all turns out to be a misunderstanding, no problem after all.' Arthur spread his hands, beginning to look baffled. 'It's you we're talking about, after all,' he said. 'Don't you know what's going on?'

'I'm beginning to,' Parker said. 'I never worked for or with these friends of yours, Arthur. I don't have anything to do with Customs. These people have a contract out on me, a straight hit. So somewhere around here there's a shooter, waiting for your call. Right?'

'If it's just a contract,' Arthur said, 'then, sure, I suppose there is.'