Lawrence Sanders - Sullivan's sting

"What is it, David?"

"Right now I'm heavily involved in a dozen business negotiations for you and my other clients. The pressures are enormous, requiring every bit of my energy and time. At the moment, I couldn't possibly think of moving. But I think I'm beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel. I estimate that in six months I'll have things organized and running smoothly. Then you know what I'd like to do?"

"What, David?"

"I'd like to take a vacation. I haven't had a real one in years-just business trips. I'd like to take at least two weeks off, maybe a month, and travel through Europe, Russia, maybe even Japan and China. A long, leisurely vacation that'll enable me to unwind and recharge my batteries. I'd like you to come with me-at my expense, of course. Not only will we have a wonderful time, seeing all the sights, visiting Paris, London, Rome, Moscow, Tokyo, but we'll be living together for at least two weeks. It'll be like a trial run. If we find we enjoy each other's company twenty-four hours a day, then that will certainly be proof that we can make a success of living together when we come back home. What do you say? Will you be willing to make the trip with me in six months?"

She tossed the wrapped gift aside, heaved off the couch, rushed to him, enfolded him in a suffocating embrace.

"Divine!" she cried. "Of course I'll go with you, David. We'll have the time of our lives, you'll see, and really get to know each other better.''

"And you're willing to wait six months?"

"Of course, you silly boy, because I'm positive, just positive, that we'll come home closer than ever and eager to get our own place-together. Oh, I'm so excited! I'm going out tomorrow and start shopping: dresses and shoes and maybe new luggage. There's so much, I've got to make a list of all the things I'll need."

"You do that," he said with a tender smile, "but meanwhile look at your gift."

She ripped away the fancy wrapping, opened the box, removed the engraved compact, and stared at it with widened eyes.

"Oh David, it's beautiful! Just what I wanted."

"I thought it would be," he said.

It had been a frustrating morning for Manny Suarez. He and the other yaks were hawking the Fort Knox Commodity Trading Fund, commemorative postage stamps, and pork bellies, but it was one of those days when the mooches just weren't biting. Sid Coe was in a vile mood, stalking up and down the boiler room and screaming, "Close the deal or there's no meal! Get the buck in or get the fuck out!"

Finally, a little after noon, he went stomping downstairs, muttering and cursing. The yaks figured they were safe for a while because it was common knowledge that Coe was humping the comely receptionist in his private office during his lunch hour. Manny Suarez folded up the sucker list, stuck it in his hip pocket, and ducked out.

Just as he had promised, Tony Harker was parked a block away in a white Chevy van. Harker sat behind the wheel. In the back, a bearded young black waited with a classy Leica camera and a battery-powered floodlight. Suarez slid in next to Harker and handed the sucker list to the photographer. He put the list on the floor, turned on his light, adjusted the lens and started snapping.

"How's it going, Manny?" Tony asked.

Suarez flipped his hand back and forth. "Comme gi,

comme ga. Moaney is tight today. The boss is goin' nuts."

"Stick with it," Harker said. "I don't think it'll be much longer. Ullman brought in a canary who's singing his heart out. We're going to nail the whole bunch, including your boss."

"I wanna be there when you take him," Manny said. "Hokay?"

"Sure, I was planning on it. I guess you'll be glad to get back to Miami."

"Oh, I don' know," Suarez said, thinking of the Cuban lady and the.cash he was skimming from his commissions. "It's good duty. Maybe you can use me again?"

"Could be," Harker said. "After this case is closed, there'll be something else. It never ends."

"Have gun, will travel," Manny said.

The photographer tapped Tony's shoulder. "Finished," he said. "I took two of each page, different exposures. We're covered."

"Good," Harker said. "Here's your list, Manny. I hope there's no hassle."

Suarez shrugged. "He don' even know I'm gone."

But he did. When Manny walked into Instant Investments, Inc., Sid Coe was waiting for him, his face twisted with fury, and the agent knew he was in trouble.

Coe jerked a thumb toward his office. "In there, ban-dido," he said, his voice gritty.

Suarez followed him inside, and Coe slammed the door.

"Where you been?" he demanded.

"Having a beer," Manny said. "Hokay?"

"Where's your sucker list?"

"Right here," Manny said, taking it from his hip pocket.

"What the fuck you taking it out of the office for?"

"So no one swipes it. I got this list marked with all my best mooches. Why should I let another yak make deals with my pigeons?"

"Yeah? Let me see it."

Suarez handed over the pages. Coe scanned them swiftly.

"You're lying, you little shit," he said. "All you got marked are Hispanic names. You stole my list that I paid good money for. You sneaked it out of the office against what I told you and had it copied. You're figuring on going into business for yourself."

"Not so," Manny said, spreading his hands. "Ask up and down the street. Where could I have it copied in twenty minutes?"

Coe stared at him angrily. "No one messes with Sid Coe. You're fired. Get your ass the hell out of here."

"Sure," Suarez said, "as soon as you pay me commissions for three days' work. You owe me."

"I owe you shit," Coe said. He opened his desk drawer, took out the heavy.45 automatic, and placed it on the desktop. He turned it with his forefinger until the muzzle was pointing at Manny.

"Look what I got," Coe said. "Now get out."

Suarez lifted the tail of his white guayabera shirt to reveal the short-barreled.38 Special holstered on his hip. "Look what I got," he said. "You wanna see who's the fastest draw in the East?"

Coe looked up at his face, his eyes. Then he took out his wallet, extracted two hundred in fifties and threw them on the desk.

"You fuckin' spic," he said. "You're all alike." "Yeah, I know," Manny said, picking up the bills. "We wanna get paid for the work we do. Un-American-right? See you soon, Mr. Coe."

"Not if I can help it."

"You can't," the agent said, smiling. "Too late."

He left Coe trying to figure that and went out onto Oakland Park Boulevard. He found a phone kiosk and called Tony Harker. But he wasn't back in his office yet, so Manny drove to a place that served Tex-Mex and had a big bowl of peppery chili and two icy bottles of Dos Equis. Then he called Harker again.

"I got canned," he reported.

Tony took it in his usual laid-back style. "Too bad," he said. "Any heat?"

"Some. He's a mouthy guy. But nothin' I couldn't handle."

"Good. Well, come on in; I've got another job for you."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Roger Fortescue could use some help. He's investigating a homicide."

"No kid?" Suarez said. "Sounds inarresting."

52

A real estate agent found Simon Clark a nice two-bedroom condo on the Waterway down near Las Olas. It was completely furnished and had a terrace facing east. He signed a year's lease and moved in. He figured that eventually he'd have to go back to Chicago and pack up clothes, law books, and personal belongings, and have them shipped down. But that could wait; he had bought enough Florida duds to dress like a native, and the condo was equipped with linens and kitchen stuff, so he was all set there.

He inspected possible office space on Commercial, but he really didn't want to be located there, so he kept looking. The agent, Ellen St. Martin, was helping him, and the last time they spoke, she reported she had a lead on a small but elegant office up near Boca Raton. That would be a long daily commute, especially during the tourist season, but Simon didn't plan on a nine-to-five job, and it was important to have a flash front.