Firebreak

' You were never a hit man.'

'Good God, no!'

'I didn't think so,' Parker said. 'So the shooter's somebody else. But why isn't he in this room, watching that TV?'

'Well, you would have found him, wouldn't you,' Arthur said, 'about five minutes ago.'

'Arthur,' Parker said, 'he isn't here because you are it. When you dial that number, there's a house about a quarter mile from here that blows up.'

Lloyd said, 'Of course! That's the way to do it.'

'How would you feel, Arthur,' Parker asked him, 'if you were watching the TV and dialing the number and that house blew up, close enough to wake your wife?'

'That wasn't the deal,' Arthur said. He looked offended. 'Right in the neighborhood? The cops could be on me, first thing you know.'

'You know them,' Parker said, 'but you're not tight with them. They don't have to waste some useful guy's time here, they can just leave you and your wife in this house they rented in your name, and if I never do come home then after a while they pay you off and that's the end of it. But if I do come home, and you see me, and you dial that number, and you see and hear the house go up, why would they want to keep you around?'

Arthur watched him, eyes wide and jaw clenched.

Parker said, 'Let's have a look at that package, Arthur, the one you were supposed to not open, just leave behind here after you go away.'

4

'I always mistrusted that rotten bastard,' Arthur said.

Lloyd said, 'Parker, do you think so? Two bombs?'

'You'll tell me,' Parker said, 'as soon as Arthur gives you the package.'

They both looked at Arthur, who started to get up, stopped himself, almost said two or three things, then sat back and said, 'Give me a second here.'

Parker watched him. 'For what?'

'I never did like it when things got sudden,' Arthur told him, 'and I like it even less now. People talk fast, you go along, sure you say, sure, and all of a sudden you're someplace you don't want to be.'

Parker sat back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. 'Take your time,' he said.

'We trotted through this pretty good,' Arthur explained, 'but now I got to back up and remind myself, nobody needs to kill me'

'Nobody needs to keep you alive, either,' Parker told him. 'What use are you?'

'Some little use,' Arthur said. 'I sit here and wait for you to come home. Then I dial that number there. Why isn't that to somebody else near here, ready to move in on you? This way, you can get to me, but you can't get to him.'

'Through that number, I can.'

Arthur looked at the numbers written on the sheet from the memo pad. 'That's true.'

'And now they'd have to go set up another whole household, twenty-four hours a day, ready to go when you ring their phone. How many shooters? They'd need somebody awake, whenever the call came.'

'That's also true,' Arthur said.

'It's simpler to blow me up,' Parker told him. 'But then they still have you here, a witness, too close to the scene, you'll never get away before the law arrives, your name is probably all over this rental.'

'It is,' Arthur agreed.

'Why would they want to leave you around,' Parker asked him, 'to decide for yourself if you'd rather answer questions or spend the rest of your life in the can?'

Arthur slowly nodded, then turned toward Lloyd. 'It's in the kitchen,' he said. 'Under the sink.'

Lloyd stood. 'I'll get it.'

'Just a box wrapped in brown paper,' Arthur told him. 'Cigar box size.'

Lloyd went into the kitchen, and Arthur looked at Parker. 'The fella's name,' he said, 'is Frank Meany.'

'That recruited you.'

That's right.'

Lloyd came back with the box, holding it flat in both hands. 'Give me a minute with this,' he said. He went back to the sofa, put the box on the coffee table, sat down, and spent a while merely looking it over, not touching it.

Arthur said, 'I worked forty years for those people. Driver, then boss. I organized and ran two routes north, one through New York, one through Maine to Halifax.'