Flashfire (2000) by Richard Stark

Author:Richard Stark [Stark, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Jewel thieves, Criminals, Mystery & Detective, General, Palm Beach (Fla.), Suspense, Crime, Fiction, Parker (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9780446677905
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2001-11-01T04:54:30+00:00

Although it didn't matter now, he couldn't

help but wonder if it would have made a

difference if he'd decided not to let Julius Norte

live. He'd thought the man could handle himself

against the fellow who'd sent those killers after

him, but maybe without Bobby, Norte hadn't

been so invulnerable anymore.

It seemed to Parker that this guy, whoever he

was, who'd hired these two in the Land Cruiser,

would have been on Daniel Parmitt's trail

whether he'd left Norte dead or alive. There

would have been papers in Norte's office,

evidence, things Parker wouldn't have had the

time or knowledge to find and destroy, to tell

who the other customer had been that day,

who'd dealt himself a hand. It was revenge that

guy wanted now, as well as his grim

determination to leave nobody alive who could

possibly lead back to him. Nothing to do with

Parker, but he was stuck in it anyway.

They drove for over an hour, passing the

occasional tourist place, offering cold drinks or

airboat rides into the swamp or views of caged

alligators, and no one in the car spoke. The air-

conditioning kept everything cool and dry. They

passed small side roads from time to time,

bumping away on rough bridges over the canals,

and Parker waited.

Over an hour. The driver lowered his visor

because the afternoon sun was rolling down the

sky, dead ahead, and Parker did the same.

There were warnings on notices attached to this

side of the visor, but he didn't read them.

The driver tapped the brake. Parker

squinted, and maybe that was a road out there,

still some distance off, leading to the right. He

became very still, and the driver tapped the

brake again, and the rifle barrel came to rest

against the base of Parker's skull, just below

and behind his left ear, a cold hard smoothness

of metal.

Parker sensed, but didn't turn his head to see,

the driver grin. Still facing front, feeling the

steel against his skull, he said, 'Try not to

jounce on the turn.'

The driver practiced his chuckle again, and

slowed some more, flipping on his directional.

It was a dirt road, heading north over the

scrub near the highway, then going on into the

ripe green of the swamp shrubbery. Parker

watched it coming and knew he couldn't do the

move, not now. He'd have to wait until they

thought he wasn't going to do anything.

Eventually, they'd believe he'd given up the

idea of doing anything, because eventually

everybody gives up, and they'd know that.

Eventually, he, too, might give up.

The driver made the turn, smooth and slow,

but then they bumped a little when they crossed

the wooden bridge over the nearby canal, and

the rifle barrel jounced hard against his skull,

but the gun didn't go off. And a minute later,

with the car up to a good speed again and the

mangroves and palmettos getting closer, the

rifle barrel went away.

Parker adjusted the air-conditioner vent so it

wouldn't blow directly on him. He looked at the

driver, who concentrated now more completely

on his driving on this imperfect road, then

twisted around to look back at Herby, who was

seated sideways in the left corner back there, so

he could hold the rifle with its trigger handy to

his right hand and its barrel aimed at the back

of Parker's seat. The aviator glasses reflected

Parker, darkly.

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