Deal Breaker

Herman picked up the phone. “Let the girl go,” he said. “And the contract is off. Anyone touches Myron Bolitar, they’re dead.”

Chapter 31

Win and Myron went back to the office. Myron felt sore from the beating, but nothing was broken. He would persevere He was that kind of guy. Terribly brave.

Esperanza said, “You look like shit.”

“You’re so hung up on appearances.”

He tossed her the photograph of Adam Culver. “See if your friend Lucy recognizes him.”

She snapped a salute. “Jawohl, Kommandant.” Of all the old shows, Esperanza’s favorite was Hogan’s Heroes. Myron was not a big fan, though he always wished he could have been there when some young TV hotshot said, “Hey, I got an idea for a sitcom! Set it in a POW camp in Nazi Germany. Laughs galore.”

“How many calls?” he asked.

“About a million. Mostly the press wanting your comments on Christian’s signing.” She smiled. “Nice job on that one.”

“Thank you.”

“That Otto Burke,” she said, a pencil near her mouth. “Is he single?”

Myron looked at her, horrified. “Why would you want to know?”

“He’s kinda cute.”

The nausea was back. “You’re hitting me up for a raise, aren’t you? Please say yes.”

Esperanza smiled coyly but said nothing. He started for his office.

“Hold it,” she said. “A strange message just came in for you a few minutes ago.”

“From?”

“A woman named Madelaine. Wouldn’t give her last name. Sounded sultry.”

The dean-nessa. Hmm.

“She leave a number?”

Esperanza nodded, handed it to him. “Remember: The condom is your friend.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Speaking of which, your mother called twice, your father once. I think they’re worried about you.”

He entered his office. His little private sanctuary. He liked it in here. Myron held most of his negotiations and important meetings in the traditionally decorated conference room, freeing him up to make his office whatever he wanted it to be. He had, of course, his view of the Manhattan skyline to his left. On the wall behind his desk he had framed posters from Broadway musicals: Fiddler on the Roof, The Pajama Game, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Man of La Mancha, Les Miserables, La Cage aux Folles, A Chorus Line, West Side Story, Phantom.

Another wall had movie stills: Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in Annie Hall Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy in Adam’s Rib Groucho, Chico, and Harpo in A Night at the Opera. Adam West and Burt Ward in Batman, the TV show, the real Batman, the one where Burgess Meredith played the Penguin and Cesar Romero played the Joker. The Golden Age of Television.

The final wall had photographs of Myron’s clients. In a few days Christian Steele cloaked in Titans blue would join the group.

He dialed Madelaine Gordon’s number. The answering machine picked up. Her silky voice. Hearing it again made his throat dry. He hung up, not leaving a message. He checked the time on the far wall. The clock was shaped like a giant watch with a Boston Celtics insignia in the center.

Three-thirty.

Still time to get to the campus. Madelaine was not important, but Myron very much wanted to see the dean. And he wanted to show up unexpectedly.

At Esperanza’s desk he said, “I’m going out for a while. You can reach me in the car.”

“Are you limping?” she asked.

“A little. Ache’s men roughed me up.”

“Oh. See you later.”

“Hurts like hell, but I can take it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t make a scene.”

“Inside,” she said. “I’m dying.”

“Please see if you can reach Chaz Landreaux. Tell him we need to talk.”

“Okay.”

He left. He picked up his car in the garage. Win was into cars. He loved his racing-green Jag. Myron drove a blue Ford Taurus. He was not what one might call a car man. A car got him from point A to point B, that was all. It was not a status symbol. It was not a second home. It was not his baby.

The drive didn’t take long. Myron took the Lincoln Tunnel. He passed the famed York Motel. Long sign:

$11.99 PER HOUR

$95 PER WEEK

MIRRORED ROOMS

NOW FEATURING SHEETS!

He paid the toll on the Parkway. The woman in the booth was very friendly. She almost looked at him when she tossed him the change.

He called his mother on the car phone and reassured her he was okay. She told him to call his father, he was the worried one. Myron called his father and reassured him he was okay. He told him to call his mother, she was the worried one. Great communication. The secret to a happy marriage.

He thought about Kathy Culver. He thought about Adam Culver. He thought about Nancy Serat. He tried to draw little lines, connecting them. The lines were tenuous at best. He was sure Fred Nickler, Sir Sleaze Rag, was one line. That picture hadn’t sneaked into Nips by itself. Fred seemed to run a tight operation. He had to know more than he was saying. Win was digging into his background, seeing what he could unearth.

Half an hour later, Myron arrived at the campus. Extra-deserted today. No one on the commons. Very few cars. He parked near the dean’s house and knocked on the door. Madelaine (he still liked the name) answered. She smiled when she saw him, clearly pleased, tilting her head a little. “Well, hello, Myron.”

“Hi.” The Return of Mr. Smooth.

Madelaine Gordon was dressed for tennis. Short white skirt Great legs. White shirt. He noticed that the shirt was see-through. Keen observation, the signs of a master investigator. Madelaine noticed him noticing. She did not seem particularly offended.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Myron said.

“No intrusion,” she said. “I was just about to take a shower.”

Hmm. “Your husband’s not in, is he?”

She crossed her hands under her breasts. “Not for hours yet,” she said. “You got my message?”

He nodded.

“Would you care to come inside?”

Myron said, “‘Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?’”

“Pardon me?”

“The Graduate.”

“Oh.” Madelaine wet her lips. She had a very sexy mouth. People overlook the mouth. They talk about the nose, the chin, the eyes, the cheekbones. Myron was a mouth man “I guess I should be offended,” she continued. “I