Hair of the Dog by Gordon Carroll (reading strategies book TXT) 📗

He just stared at me with those unflinching eyes, but his lips twitched up at the corners and I thought maybe I was suddenly looking at the devil instead of God.

“You are an interesting study, Mason. I haven’t been really angry in a very long time, but I believe you have pushed me to it. The girl isn’t your concern. She was a paycheck to you and that is all. Now drop it.”

“Finally I get to see the real Alvin Marsh. You know what? I don’t think I like you, and more… I don’t think I’ll vote for you. Now, you want me out of your life? Let me see Keisha. Let me vet her aunt and uncle. Once I do that, I’m gone for good.”

“No, Mason. You are already gone for good. Now get out of my office or I’ll have you tossed out. Like the trash.”

“So, you wanna play rough? Have it your way. But you’re making a mistake. Something’s dirty here and I’m going to expose you.”

Marsh picked up the phone as if to call for security.

I held up a hand.

“No need, I’m leaving. For now.”

I walked out of his office and went back to my car in the underground garage. Marsh didn’t seem to like me anymore either. Of course, I had sort of accused him of some pretty nefarious deeds, not to mention the fact that I’d sicced the press on him.

Now, what to do from here? Go to war or play an end-around. I decided on the end-around. I called Sarah and told her what I needed. She said she’d make a few calls and get back to me. Before she could, I saw Clyde walking towards my car from the left. I made a quick scan, but didn’t see anyone else.

I opened the door and stepped out, leaving it open. Maybe Marsh had decided to have me killed here and now. Max lay quietly in the back seat watching everything. Nothing like having a big brother with monster teeth looking out for you.

“Clyde,” I said.

“You like to live dangerously, Mason.”

“Not at all, I said. But I need to know everything is okay with that little girl.”

“And so you harass a man as important as the Senator?”

“Just trying to get the information I need.”

“I believe that the Senator made it clear that if he wanted to speak with you, he’d initiate the conversation.”

“Yes,” I said, “but this was important.”

“The Senator is a very busy man.”

“I’m sure he is, what with going for the presidency and all.”

I thought that might rattle him. But good old Clyde proved to be un-rattle-able.

“What is it you want? Really?”

I decided to be more direct.

“I want to know if Senator Marsh knows that you had the Bloods come after me in Colorado? I want to know if he knows that you hired a bunch of mercenaries to take me out at my home?”

We were standing close. About ten inches between us. He looked down at me, his face as expressionless as always, but his eyes, oh yes, his eyes told the true story.

“If I wanted you dead, Mason, you’d be dead. And I wouldn’t need mercenaries to do the job.” He head-bobbed toward my car. “And your dog wouldn’t be able to save you.”

“Oh you want me dead. I see it in your eyes. You do a good poker face, but you’re no pro. The eyes give you away. If you had Superman’s heat vision, I’d be a puddle right now.”

He dragged those eyes away and looked around the garage.

“You know this isn’t Denver, Colorado, the friendly Mile High City. This is my town. This is Chicago. We average thirty murders a week. Here you can get gunned down eating breakfast in a diner or watching birds in a park, or…” those eyes, those hot eyes turned back on me, “…talking to the wrong man in an underground garage. And wouldn’t no one take much notice of it. It wouldn’t make headlines. The press wouldn’t swarm all around. The local PD wouldn’t start a manhunt. Here, we just throw a tag on your toe, stack you up like cord wood down at the overcrowded city morgue and call it another day. So my best advice to you is that you get in your car with your little doggy and drive on back to the mountains and forget you ever heard of the Senator or me or that little girl. You do that… you do that right here and now and we will consider this done and over with.”

He was offering me a deal, and in so doing, practically admitting his involvement in the attempted hit at my home.

“Would the Senator go along with that?”

“This has nothing to do with the Senator. This is between you and me.”

I took a step closer and I let him see into my eyes. He may have heat vision, but I have something else. I’m actually a fantastic poker player and that’s because the real me never makes it to my eyes unless I let it. In that respect, I’m like Bruce Banner in the movie The Avengers, who tells Captain America that his secret is that he’s always angry. I let him see the real me. The me I showed to Majoqui Cabrera, the man who murdered my wife and daughter as I stood over him, beating him to death.

“I’ll tell you what’s between you and me. That little girl. And until I know she’s safe, I’m not going anywhere. And if anything happens to her… anything… you’ll pray to be lying on that slab in the morgue with a toe tag.”

He didn’t move. The man was a rock. But he wanted to, oh yes he did.

“Yeah,” he said. “You do real good saving the ladies in your life, don’t you? Like your wife. Like your daughter.”

Without conscious thought, the palm of my right hand slid around the butt of the 4506 in its holster snugged in my