Firebreak

but lean in torso, he looked like an oil-well driller in his wedding-and-funeral suit. Though he was probably in his mid-forties, his face and hands were weathered and lined, and he moved awkwardly, as though putting him indoors in city clothes had robbed him of both the self-assurance and balance he would have felt out on the rig.

His smile was awkward, too, as he came forward, big-knuckled hand out, saying, 'Arthur! By God, it's been a hundred years!'

Arthur and Parker had both risen, and now Arthur stepped forward to accept the handshake, saying, 'At least that long, Rafe. You look good.'

'So do you,' Rafe said, his questioning eye glancing off Parker.

Arthur said, 'This is Mr. Parker, part of the reason I'm here.'

Rafe winced at the name; a tiny movement, but Parker saw it. Turning, hand out again, Rafe said, 'Mr. Parker, glad to know you. Any friend of Arthur's.'

'You, too,' Parker said, and they shook briefly, Rafe already looking away.

Rafe put his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, as though looking out over a cliff. That uneasy smile flickered again, and he said, 'Well, Arthur, what can I do you for?'

Arthur's smile seemed very natural. 'We'd like to have a little chat in your office, if you have a minute,' he said.

'Well, sure,' Rafe said, turning away. 'Come on. Your office, too, you know.'

'I imagine there've been changes,' Arthur said.

'A few,' Rafe agreed, and led the way down a functional cream-colored hall with overhead fluorescents. Most of the doors to both sides were open, most of the small offices occupied, with one man or woman at a desk, talking on the phone or staring at the computer.

The last office on the left, Rafe's, was just as small and cramped as the rest. He went in first, shut the door after them, and said, 'Only one chair, there. Unless you want mine.'

Parker stayed standing by the door. 'The first thing you can do, Rafe,' he said, 'is call Frank Meany back, tell him—'

They both stared. Rafe said, 'What?' as though he didn't speak English.

'—Arthur got spooked by something,' Parker went on, 'and left.'

Arthur, saddened but not surprised, said to Rafe, 'You knew.'

Deciding to tough it out, Rafe said, 'I'm not sure what you two—' j,

Parker showed him the pistol, without pointing it anywhere; a Beretta Jetfire automatic in .25 calibre, strong enough for indoors. 'Call him now,' he said, 'or you don't leave this room alive.'

Arthur said, 'Rafe, for God's sake—'

'No, Arthur,' Parker said. 'Rafe doesn't have time for that. Meany's sending people right now.' He took a step closer to Rafe and raised the Beretta, because only an eye-shot would be sure. 'Phone now.'

Rafe blinked at the pistol staring at him. 'You can't shoot a gun in here,' he said.

Parker shot the front panel of the wooden desk. The flat sound swelled in the room, but wouldn't reach far beyond it. Parker lifted the Beretta toward Rafe's eye again.

The sound of the shot had broken something in Rafe, like a high note breaking glass. He became boneless, and dropped backward into his desk chair, still looking at the Beretta. Parker and Arthur watched him for one long second, and then Rafe shook his head, reached out, picked up the phone.

'Redial,' Parker said.

Rafe blinked at him, thinking about that, then shrugged, with a bitter sound in his throat. 'I'm not clever,' he said, as though it were a failing that had long troubled him, and pushed redial.

Parker came around the desk to lean close, so he could hear both sides of the conversation.

The phone rang three times, and then a woman's voice answered, saying some company name that Parker didn't quite catch. Rafe said, 'It's Rafe Hargetty again, let me talk to Frank.'

'One moment.'

Parker was close enough to smell a kind of metallic haze that rose from Rafe, as though he'd just been electrocuted. It was the smell of fear.

'Rafe?' A hard, fast, tough-guy voice. 'Keep him there, I got people on the way, use—'

'He left, Frank.'

'What? You said he was there.'

'Him and another guy. They left before I got outside. I don't know, something spooked them.'

'What's the other guy look like?'

'I never saw him, Frank.' Rafe's fear came across as the underling's desperate desire to please. He said, 'They were gone before I got out there.'

'Shit,' said the voice. There's only one reason Arthur's off the reservation. Let me think.'

They all let Frank think. Arthur stood glaring at Rafe with heavy anger, while Rafe stared at his desktop, eyes and mouth moving as though he still thought there was some way he could turn this around, even though he knew there was nothing in the world he was ready to try.