55
The Last Minute Bar, Manhattan
Sandy and torn-suited and arm-busted, I entered The Last Minute, looking like the sort of guy I myself would throw out. Fortunately I still had the black eye to make me look even more respectable. I saw Leonie sitting alone at a corner table, a barely touched pint of Guinness in front of her. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
The bartender on duty – a guy I didn’t know – actually started coming around from the bar to hurry me out. A few patrons stared at me, just to see how long and how noisy the ejection would take.
‘Uh, sir, do you need help?’ the bartender asked. This was the polite first volley, second volley to be, now get out.
‘I’m Sam Capra. I own the bar. Is Bertrand here?’
‘Uh, no, Mr Capra, he’s not on duty today.’ At least the bartender recognized my name.
‘I’ve been in an accident.’
‘Yes, sir, um, do you want me to take you to the hospital?’
I could feel the heat of Leonie’s gaze on me. Wanting to ask: is it done? Is Jack Ming dead?
‘No. I want to go to the office upstairs and I want you to call Bertrand and have him get here now. Immediately. Then please bring me two martinis, each with two olives. Made with Plymouth gin.’
‘Yes, Mr Capra.’
‘That lady in the corner table, drinking the Guinness, she’s a friend of mine, comp her tab.’
The bartender nodded. Eyes of customers were still on us. I didn’t like that. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Mr Capra?’
‘Yes. I’ll be okay.’
‘You’re, um, hurt.’
‘Yes, I know. Call Bertrand, make the martinis. What’s your name?’
‘Clark.’
‘Thank you, Clark.’
I walked past Leonie, gestured slightly with my head to follow me. She scooped up her backpack and her pint. She waited until we were up the stairs and the door was closed behind me.
‘My God, what happened?’ she said.
‘My arm is fractured. At best.’ I emptied my pockets: rental car keys, wallet, phone.
‘No, Sam, what happened to Jack Ming?’
I looked at her; the weight of my failure suddenly felt heavier than my bad arm. ‘He got away, Leonie. We underestimated him.’
‘You were going to kill him.’ She said this to me in the same tone as one might say you were going to pick up the milk or you were going to mail the bills. Her mouth trembled. ‘Sam. The kids. They will kill our kids… ’
A knock sounded on the door.
I put a finger to her lips. Clark came in, two martinis on the tray. I thanked him. He handed one to me and one to Leonie, who started to shake her head.
‘Those are both mine,’ I said. My voice sounded thick. Leonie set the martini back on the tray.
‘Anything else for you, ma’am?’ Clark asked Leonie. Give him credit: he was trying to act like this was an everyday duty. She shook her head, hardly looking at him, fighting for control. He blinked at her, embarrassed, and turned back to me. ‘I called Bertrand, Mr Capra, and he’ll be here in fifteen minutes. I told him that you were hurt and he said a doctor will be here shortly.’ If he thought it unusual that a physician would make an emergency call to a bar, he said nothing. Times are tough and I figured young Clark valued his job. I realized that I might be in shock. I sat down.
‘Thank you, Clark.’ I took a sip of the martini. It was perfect, like chilled steel. ‘If you make all martinis like this one, you will always have a job here if you want it.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You better get back downstairs.’
‘Yes, sir.’ He glanced at me and Leonie and shut the door behind him.
‘Nice kid,’ I said.
Leonie’s mouth worked, as if she fished for her words. ‘You failed to kill him,’ she said, ‘and you’re going to sit there and drink a martini?’
‘Two martinis. I don’t have any painkillers.’ James Bond drank martinis when he was in a tux and moving in for the kill. I drank them because my arm was broken and I had badly messed up and I had to stop and think about what to do next. I fought the urge to gulp the cocktail down. ‘Yesterday I speared a man through the gut and held a woman’s hand while she died. Today I fought and killed two crazy mercenaries who came within inches of killing me and I beat up my best friend and I jumped on top of a moving bus and I crashed a motorcycle through a window and I threw myself and another human being who never hurt me off a building.’ I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘So, yes, Leonie, I’m gonna drink this martini right now.’
Leonie sat down in front of me. ‘Tell me what happened.’
I drank the first martini and then I told her.
Leonie folded her hands together, as if in awkward prayer. ‘We have to tell Anna that Jack Ming is dead.’
‘Lying to her is a death sentence for the kids. But he didn’t meet with the CIA, and now he’ll be afraid to deal with them. We ruined his trust in them. That’s the best news.’
‘That’s not as good as killing him. That’s what you said you would do. You promised.’
‘I’m so sorry I’ve let you down. After all, you were supposed to find him, and I found him, not you, and I kept my mouth shut about your failures.’ My words came out like a cruel stab. ‘You could have shot him in the alley and you missed. So, don’t judge me.’
She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.
I reached for her hand. She let me take it. ‘I’m sorry. I’m frustrated. Because you’re right. I failed.’
I took a long sip of the second martini.
‘I’m sorry, Sam, I know you tried. I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t cry, we’re going to get them back. We will.’
She pushed her barely touched pint toward me, like a peace offering. ‘You are goddamned crazy.’
‘Crazy does not equal efficient. We would have had him if he’d come and August and his men wouldn’t have been there.’ I gulped the ice-cold martini. It wasn’t really killing the pain in my arm. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I will be.’
‘How’d you get away?’
She licked her lips. ‘I stole Jack’s knapsack and I ran. His laptop was inside; I thought maybe his notebook was in there, too. I don’t think I was followed.’
‘I saw the notebook. He had it taped to his back. It’s red.’ I ate the olives and I took a long sip of her Guinness. I know it should have tasted great but I don’t recommend drinking one right after two martinis.
‘Let’s review. Novem Soles blackmails us into finding and killing Ming. But suddenly, we’re getting hirelings interfering. The sisters tried to tell me we’re on the same side. But that makes no sense for Novem Soles to interfere with us.’
‘Maybe they thought we couldn’t do the job.’
‘I don’t think that’s it. There’s a third party here. And that party is inside the CIA, serving Novem Soles, or with his own agenda. I think it’s this Ray Brewster. Tell me about him.’
Leonie massaged her temple. ‘He… he found people who could be useful – let’s say people who had a natural talent for killing, or for theft – and instead of them being bound for jail, he got them to work for him.’
‘Was he in government?’
‘I don’t think so. Why would he need me to give them new identities? The government would be better at that than me.’
‘Did he find you?’
‘Yes. I’d gotten involved with a forgery ring. They were about to get busted. He made a deal with me to shield me if I worked for him.’
I stood, I paced. Ray Brewster might not be CIA but he had a resource in Special Projects. Or he could be
