2013/05/13 12:38
“That’s better,” I said graciously. “Much better. Now tell me what I can do for you. Is there a book you’re looking for?”
“A book?” He looked at me, his eyes as wide as they could get. “You know what I am looking for. And please, I regret the gun. I only meant to impress you.”
“There are better ways to make an impression,” I said.
“Yes, of course, of course. You are of course correct.”
He had a foreign inflection to his speech, and he hissed his S’s. I hadn’t noticed this earlier; it was the sort of subtlety that slides right past me when I’m looking down the barrel of a gun.
“I will pay,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I will pay an excellent price.”
“How much?” And for what, I wondered.
“How much do you want?”
“As much as I can get.”
“You must understand that I am not a rich man.”
“Then perhaps you cannot afford it.” Whatever it was.
“But I must have it!”
“Then I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
He thrust his narrow face forward, aimed his sharp chin at me. “You must assure me,” he said, “that he does not have it.”
“Who are we talking about?”
He grimaced. “Must I say his name?”
“It would help,” I said.
“The fat man,” he said. “Tsarnoff.”
“Sarnoff?”
“Tsarnoff!”
“Tsorry,” I said.
“He is dangerous. And you cannot trust him. Whatever he tells you, it is a lie.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. And I will tell you something else. Whatever he will pay, I will pay more. Tell me he does not already have it!”
“Well,” I said honestly, “I can tell you he didn’t get it from me.”
“Thank God.”
