“All right, Mr. Largo,” Decker said and handed him his gun back. “Tell Bookman I appreciate the offer.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I assume he hasn’t found my man yet.”
“No,” Largo said, “he hasn’t found him.”
“What would Ready have done when he got here?” Decker asked out loud.
“I don’t know.”
“He would have done the same thing I did,” Decker said, talking more to himself, although loud enough for the other man to hear.
“Gone to see Bookman?” Largo said, shaking his head. “Nobody but you has seen—”
“No, not Bookman,” Decker said, “but somebody like him.” Decker looked at Largo and said, “There are… others in New York who supply the same services that Bookman supplies, aren’t there?”
“I suppose so.”
“Ask Bookman to check on them, see if they’ve had any requests for help from out-of-towners.”
“All right,” Largo said. He started for the door, opened it and then turned to look at Decker. “I don’t like having my gun taken away from me.”
Decker returned the man’s stare and said, “Next time you come to see me, don’t wear it.”
Chapter Fourteen
At 1:45 a.m., Decker found a horse-drawn cab waiting in front of his hotel, with a young man leaning against it. As he approached it, the young man straightened.
“You Decker?”
“I’m Decker. What’s your name?”
“Archie.”
“OK, Archie, let’s go.”
Decker climbed inside, and Archie up top. In the dark, Decker wasn’t quite sure what route the cab was taking, and he kept his hand in his pocket, over the .32. He was suspicious of everyone these days.
Finally, Decker saw a street sign for Forty-third Street and recalled that Rosewood had said this was the street the restaurant was on. Moments later they pulled up in front.
He stepped out of the cab and saw that this was a far cry from the little restaurant where he and Linda Hamilton had first shared a meal.
“This place is gonna cost you plenty,” Archie said with a smirk. “I hope the girl is worth it.”
“She is.”
Archie looked up and down the deserted street and said, “I hope she shows up.”
“So do I,” Decker said. “I’ll be inside, Archie.”
“OK, boss.”
Decker entered the restaurant and was met at the door by a man in a tuxedo.
“Sir?”
“Decker.”
“Yes, sir. This way, please.”
Decker followed the man to a table, where the man held his chair for him.
“Your waiter will be here shortly.”
“No hurry,” Decker said, “I’m waiting for a young lady.”
“Ah,” the man said with no expression and left Decker to his own devices.
Decker admired the interior, which was all crystal and leather. As deserted as it was outside, inside it was very busy. There were no other empty tables as far as he could see.
He checked a clock on the wall. It was ten minutes past two. He was worrying that Billy Rosewood had not been persuasive enough when she suddenly came into view, following the same man in the tuxedo. She was wearing her uniform, and a stern look.
“Your companion, sir,” the man said, holding her chair for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I will send your waiter over.”
Decker nodded, and the man left them.
“I will never forgive you for this,” Linda said.
“For what exactly?” he asked. “I hope Billy wasn’t too—”
“Not for Billy,” she said. “For this…this place.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. It’s one of the most expensive restaurants in New York, which is why they stay open so late, in order to accommodate all of their patrons.”
“Then why so unforgiving?”
“Because you let me come to this beautiful place dressed like…like this.”
He smiled at her and put his hand over hers.
“Believe me, Linda,” Decker said, “you are the most beautiful thing in this beautiful place.”
“You’re impossible.”
“No,” he said, “I’m not.”
“What happened?” Bookman asked.
“He took my gun.”
Bookman frowned and looked up from his late snack of a whole chicken and vegetables.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d admit that so easily,” he said, pointing at Largo with a chicken leg.
“What?”
“That a man took your gun away from you.”
“Why not?” Largo said, grinning coldly. “It means he’s good.”
“The word I get from Duke Ballard is that he’s the best,” Bookman said.
Largo smiled.
“Best in the West.”
“Meaning what?” Bookman asked. “That you’re the best in the East?”
Largo shrugged.
“Anyway, his idea is sound,” Bookman said. “Check on Sadler, Liston…and Bolan.”
“It’ll be Bolan,” Largo said.
“Yeah,” Bookman said, “you’re probably right, but check them all, anyway.”
“All right.”
“And Largo?”
Largo stopped on his way to the door.
“Yes?”
“Try and control your competitive streak where Decker is concerned. He’s a friend of a friend.”
“A friend of a friend of yours,” Largo said, “not mine.”
Later Decker and Linda went to his room.
“I don’t feel right about this,” she said, standing with her back up against the door.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “neither do I.”
“Really?”
He smiled and said, “Really, I’m not what you’d call a lady’s man.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “if I’ve seemed that way at all, it’s because of you.”
“Of me?”
