Дэвид Балдаччи - No Man's Land

“Not sure. Some opportunity. Look, I’m not saying the guy’s stupid. I don’t think he’s as smart as he thinks he is, but he’s slick. He can grab the gold ring when it’s staring him in the face.”

Rogers nodded slowly. “I saw him walk into that room upstairs like he owned it.”

Karl leaned in a little closer and pointed a finger at Rogers. “You pretty much nailed it there, Paul.”

“Come again?”

“Josh Quentin is a good customer here, I mean a real good customer. He pays a monthly fee to the bar for that space upstairs. Comes and goes when he wants. Brings whoever he wants. Does whatever he wants up there. And that monthly fee? Pays for all of the bar’s expenses. All of them. The other customers – and there are a lot of them – that’s pure profit. So Helen is also printing money.”

“Damn. Sounds like Ms. Myers is lucky too.”

Karl shrugged. “Now, it made a living for her, sure. A good one. But when Quentin came along, that’s when things really took off.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Don’t know. But they did. This was, oh, a couple years back.”

“You been with Ms. Myers a long time, then?”

“Eight years this summer. She’s a good lady. Fair.”

“You two…?”

Karl pushed his whiskey glass away and shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Like I said, I struck out with women. Three fastballs. I’m done batting. She wants more than a romp in the sheets with an old fat guy with bum knees. And I’m never getting hitched again.”

“Maybe her and Quentin, then?”

“Never happen. Two different walks of life. And he likes his ladies a lot younger.” He paused. “Although she usually goes up to the room when he’s here. But probably just to check on things and make sure her golden goose is happy.”

“I asked Ms. Myers about what went on up there, but she cut me off quick. I thought she was going to fire me for asking. And I was just curious. Didn’t know what they had the separate room for and all. Not that it matters to me.” He looked down at his empty glass, waiting for Karl to respond.

“Let’s put it this way, Paul, whatever goes on up there stays up there. Believe me, I’ve tried to figure it out, but when I broached it with Helen, well, I was afraid I might get fired too.”

* * *

Later, Rogers got his comm pack and received a report about a bachelor party coming into the bar. He was headed toward the door when Helen Myers stepped in front of him.

“I heard that you and Karl made peace. At least you were seen drinking together.”

“I only had the one and it was before I was on duty.”

“I’m not begrudging you two fingers of whiskey, Paul. And Karl doesn’t drink with anyone he wants to kill.”

She tacked on a smile to this.

Rogers didn’t answer right away. He ran his gaze over her from head to stiletto heels. She was in beige tonight. Jacket, blouse, short skirt, bare legs, strappy shoes. Her hair had bounced across her shoulders as she walked.

Rogers said, “We reached an understanding.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Will Mr. Quentin be coming tonight?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Last night I didn’t know who he was. Now I do. I know he’s an important customer. I just want to be ready to treat him right. Little extras, you know. Best foot forward for the bar. And I won’t lie to you, he’s a good tipper.”

Her suspicious look faded. “Well, that’s good you’re thinking that way. He is an important customer. But no, he won’t be coming tonight.”

“It would have helped to have known who the guy was before,” said Rogers. “Last night it was a little awkward, but it turned out okay. Won’t happen again, of course.”

“I’m sure it won’t.”

Rogers said, “Well, I better get out there.”

“Good luck tonight.”

“It’s never really about luck, though, is it?” said Rogers.

THE LINES WERE long again, but this time there were no disruptions. What had happened the night before seemed to have reverberated among those who frequented the Grunt.

Rogers saw Karl leave at around one-thirty, followed by Helen Myers at two.

Karl had waved to him. Myers had not.

At three the bar was empty and clean enough for the staff to head home. Rogers offered to lock up and set the alarm.

Finally, he was the last person in the place.

He had earlier noted the CCTV cameras. They were all around the bar area, and also posted outside.

But they were not, he had also noted, stationed at the stairs leading up to the VIP room. Nor were there any cameras on that level.

Someone didn’t want a record of those heading up there, and he wondered why.

He took the stairs two at a time, jiggling the set of keys in his pocket. He arrived on the upstairs landing and looked around. There was only one door, although the room it accessed seemed to run the length of the corridor.

He assumed that this might have been the living quarters of whoever had owned this building before it had become a bar.

He tried the door. It was locked.

He tried the keys in his pocket. The third one did the charm.

He opened the door and stepped into the room, closing it behind him. He didn’t have a flashlight and didn’t need one. His eyes were capable of seeing amazingly well in the darkness. He moved around the room, which was comfortably furnished.

It was actually more than one room. There was another room leading off it, separated by another doorway.

He opened this door and stared at the large bed. It was neatly made now. He figured it would not be so neat when Quentin and his ladies were here.

So was that what this was all about?

Just a place for Quentin to bed his entourage?

Yet he had been here with other men that night. So did the boys get equal turns between the sheets? Was that how Quentin paid his bonuses to executives at his company?

And why here? Quentin had the beach house not even two hours from here. And he must have a place in town somewhere. So why come to a room above a bar and spend a big sum each month for the privilege?

He made a search of the room and turned up exactly nothing. And Rogers knew how to search.

He closed the door behind him and locked it. Then he left the bar after setting the alarm and locking the exterior door securely behind him.

He had taken three steps down the alley leading to where he had parked his van when he saw them up ahead.

The players from the night before.

He turned around and looked behind him.

More big bodies had filled his rear flank.

The big black guy stepped forward, a malicious grin on his face.

“Told you we’d be back, asshole. And I keep my word.”

Rogers looked to the man’s left and saw the fellow whose wrist he’d broken. Next to him were the other two men he’d kicked the shit out of. One of them looked like he’d had his jaw wired.

Rogers looked back at the black guy, who had taken another long step forward. “Do you really want to do this?” he asked calmly.

“You got somewhere to go?” snarled the man.

“Actually, I do. So why don’t you and I go one-on-one? I win. I walk. It’ll save a lot of time.”

The black guy stiffened and looked around at the men he’d brought with him. “I saw you were some kind of ninja, fuckface. That’s why I brought reinforcements.”

Rogers looked at the man with the broken wrist and the guy with the wired jaw. “If you come at me again, I will kill both of you.”

The two men looked amused until they caught the expression on Rogers’s face.

The black guy, perhaps sensing they were losing the upper hand, pulled something from his pocket. It was a knife.