“You’re a liar.”
“Unlike yourself,” Pete said.
“I gave you two grand for nothing and I’d like it back.”
“No need to repeat yourself, son. Money’s gone. You want it back, you’re out of luck.”
“Where is it?”
“Something came up.”
“That’s it? Something came up and now you keep my two grand?”
“I did my part, so, technically speaking, you owe me two more. Under the circumstances, I’m giving you a break. Let’s consider it payment in full.”
“For what? I told you I didn’t need you. If you did it regardless, why should I be out the dough?”
Pete lifted his hands. “Hey, I’m done and I’m gone. Your money’s gone as well, so how about we call it square? I don’t owe you and you don’t owe me. Anything I have on you stops right here.”
Pete was dimly aware of the panhandler standing in a wash of darkness while the argument went on. Fellow must have decided to forgo his campsite and come have a look. In the dark, Pete couldn’t make out the red cap or the red shirt, but he knew the man’s size and body type and the lighter block of his face.
“Anything you have on me?” Linton said, shrilly. “What would that be?”
Pete kept his voice low. He was reasonably certain Linton had no idea there was a witness to their fight. “I know more than you think and I’ll use it if I have to. To be honest about it, I’d prefer not.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m just pointing out you got your money’s worth. With that woman gone, you can blame her for anything. She quits in a huff and before she leaves, she trashes your work. Same story plays and I came up with it. That’s what you paid me for.”
“What good does that do me now?”
“If you’re smart you’ll wipe the slate clean and dump everything you’ve done.”
“I don’t want to dump it. Why should I do that?”
“To cover your butt. Keep that data, she’s got your nuts in a vice. Now she’s unemployed, you think she won’t come after you? She’s a loose cannon. What’s she got to lose? She can accuse you, point fingers—whatever the hell she wants and you’re a sitting duck.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I might not, but she does. Now see here? Lookit. I’ll do you one more favor. This for the same two thousand dollars you were kind enough to shell out. She’s been in touch with a reporter. Are you aware of that? Journalist who has connections at the New York Times. Fellow’s done his homework. They’ll blow you out of the water.”
“I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Fine. Then our conversation’s over and I’ll be on my way,” Pete said, keeping his tone light.
Linton reached out and grabbed his arm, saying, “Hey! Don’t turn your back on me. I’m not finished.”
Irritably, Pete flung off his hand. “The hell you aren’t.”
“You know what? You’re more dangerous than she is,” Linton said. “She’s righteous. You’re corrupt.”
“I got no interest in you. We did business and now it’s done. End of story.”
“What if you flap your big mouth?”
“To who? Nobody gives a shit. She might nail you, but I got no dog in that fight. Trouble with you is you think you’re more important than you are.”
“Who’s the reporter? I want his name.”
“Too bad.”
Linton reached into his overcoat pocket and pulled out a gun, racking back the slide. Pete lifted his hands in a show of submission, but in truth he was more curious than cowed. What was this about? Linton didn’t seem to know what came next. This was apparently his big move and now what? Pull a gun on a fellow, you better be prepared to shoot.
Pete dropped his gaze to the weapon. He couldn’t see it clearly in the faulty light, but he was guessing it was a .45. Pete could feel the comforting bulk of his Glock in the shoulder holster under his left arm. He knew how to draw and fire a lot faster than Linton did. “Where’d you get that?” he asked.
“My father-in-law.”
“Hope he shared some safety tips.”
“He’s out of town. I borrowed it.”
“Trigger pressure’s tricky if you’re not used to it.”
“Like this?”
Linton altered the angle of the barrel and fired once. Both men jerked instinctively at the blast. The cartridge popped up to his right like a jumping bean.