Lone Wolf #8: Los Angeles Holocaust by Barry Mike

Author:Barry, Mike [Barry, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-4241-1
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 1974-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

XI

Calabrese said into the phone, “I do not bargain. I do not negotiate. That is not my policy. Tell me where they are and the matter will be handled from there on in. If the information is correct you will get your share.”

The voice said, “I don’t think that’s good enough. Their whereabouts are worth so much to you; there ought to be something on the front end.”

“Front end?” Calabrese said. “You do not even identify yourself. I’m talking to a disembodied voice without a name or a location. What do you think that this is worth to me?” He began to tap on the desk restlessly. The man who was sitting in the room with him stood, looked at Calabrese with some nervousness, and began to pace. Calabrese focused his attention on the phone. “You must think I’m a fool,” Calabrese said.

“No,” the voice said, “I don’t think that you’re a fool. I respect you a great deal.”

“You have to take me for a fool,” Calabrese said. “You won’t identify yourself, you say you have definite information on their whereabouts, you ask for some tribute paid immediately, and yet I don’t even know who to send it to. What am I supposed to do? Send you a money order care of general delivery someplace?”

“No,” the voice said, “that wouldn’t work.” If Calabrese had intended any irony here the voice seemed to have decided to pass it over. “Obviously you can’t send a money order general delivery and Western Union doesn’t work anymore anyway. What I suggest is that you have someone meet me, carrying some money. I’ll identify myself, he’ll turn over the money, and then, afterwards, after I’ve gotten back to a safe place I’ll call you and tell you where they are. Originally I was going to try and take them myself but it’s too tough. It’s out of my class; I think that they’ve got enough weapons now to fuel the Seventh Army for a month. It’s a job for you.”

“And how do I know your information is trustworthy?” Calabrese said. “How do I know that you have the location of these people, that this is not a double-cross simply to extort money from me?” He tapped the desk again. The man in the room stopped pacing as if shot and looked at Calabrese with stricken eyes. “It’s ridiculous,” Calabrese said, “just ridiculous.”

“Listen,” the voice said, “I obviously know something because I know you want him and the other one and I know your number. So I’ve got information, you can tell that.” The voice paused, seemed to swallow, then went on. “This is the only way it’s going to work, Calabrese,” it said, “the other way, a payoff after you hit them is too chancey. I won’t get a dime of it.”

“All right,” Calabrese said. That was the way you had to be if you were truly able to run a shop; you had to be able to follow your instincts, work with the moment, obey impulse.

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