Matt Hilton - Dead_s men dust

Cain dropped the bill on the coffee table, reached for the litho plates. "These can't be originals?"

"I don't suppose they are," Telfer replied. "But they're still worth decent money to the right person."

Cain gave him a shallow smile. "Are you attempting to bribe me, Mr. Telfer?"

"If it's going to save my life, yes."

Cain's smile turned into a full grin. "At last! We're being fully truthful now. That's more like it." He pulled the tape free from the stack of four litho plates and held one of them up. "They're not real plates. They've been etched from a copy after a hundred-dollar bill was scanned into a computer. That's why there's no clarity on the scrollwork. Still, like you say, they'll be worth good money to the right buyer."

Telfer grinned along with him. "So what do you say we make a deal? My life for the plates?"

"Nah," Cain said, dropping the litho on the table. "It's not as simple as that. Why would I let you go when I can kill you and then take the plates for myself?"

Telfer inclined his chin. "You seem to know a lot about the process of making counterfeit notes. Do you also know who's in the printing game? Who'd be prepared to buy the litho plates from you?"

Nodding his head, Cain said, "Well, I have to admit… you've got me there." "I've already set up a deal. I'm supposed to meet the buyer tomorrow."

Cain snorted.

"It's the truth. Why would I lie to you?"

"Who are you meeting with?"

Telfer shook his head. "Christ, man. Give me a little credit, will you? I'm trying to save my life here. You can't expect me to tell you who I intend selling the plates to."

"I could cut the name out of your throat," Cain pointed out.

"Yes, you could. But it wouldn't do you any good. My buyer won't deal with anyone but me. He's too afraid that the FBI is onto him to deal with anyone he doesn't know. If I don't show at the meet, he won't show."

"Touche."

"So that means that you need to keep me alive, or the deal will be off." "How much money are we talking about here?" Telfer exhaled. Indicating the pile of money, he said, "About two hundred grand for that." He paused. "Maybe half a million for the plates."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Seven hundred thousand?"

"Three?fty apiece."

Cain shook his head. "Seven hundred for me. You get to stay alive."

The corners of Telfer's mouth turned down.

"That's the deal," Cain told him. "All or nothing."

"Okay," Telfer said after a beat. For the?rst time in hours, he appeared to have relaxed into the seat. "You've got yourself a deal."

Cain smiled as well, restacked the litho plates. "Yes," he said. But his voice held all the promise of a serpent.

It had been a long night. And he'd done a lot of thinking.

He wasn't a greedy man. If he wanted something, he just took it as his own. Appropriated the chattels of his victims as if they were the spoils of war. He'd never found it dif?cult to?nance his lifestyle before, but he had to admit that the thought of a cool seven hundred thousand bucks rang sweet even to his ears. Especially when enunciated slowly.

Seven. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.

Undeniably, the subject of the money was a distraction. He'd pondered taking what was already available and making do, but the thought that the bogus money could spell his downfall made him hold back. Why risk blowing his cover by passing a fake note at a goddamn McDonald's when he could have as much of the real thing as he'd ever require?

Not only that, but the thought of playing Telfer like a pawn appealed to his sense of the grandiose. He'd allow Telfer to touch the money, hold it in his hands, let him sniff the stench of riches beyond his dreams, before?nally snatching it away from him. That would be just punishment for the trouble he'd caused.

Then, of course, it would be a pleasant trip out into the desert for the?nal reckoning.

Yes, the subject of the money was a distraction. But so was what he'd just witnessed on the motel's TV set. He wasn't one for watching television. Never had been. The only reason he'd switched it on was to mask their conversation from guests in the adjacent rooms.

He wasn't averse to seeing his handiwork on the screen. But there was a major difference this time. He had a good mind to telephone the freaking FBI and put them right about a thing or two. Particularly regarding Telfer's part in the slaying of the two drifters he'd appropriated the VW from. Why the hell should Telfer get any of the glory from that?

"Don't you be getting any big ideas," he said. "We both know who killed those two, and before long everyone will know the truth. How anyone could even think you were responsible is beyond belief."

He turned from the TV to observe the trussed form lying on the recliner. Telfer hadn't the faintest idea what he was referring to. He was asleep, fatigue?nally overcoming his fear and discomfort. Cain raised an eyebrow. He listened to Telfer's breathing patterns. Not feigning, then? De?nitely asleep.

Cain made a noise deep in his throat, the call of a quizzical owl. He leaned forward and switched off the TV. Then he walked over to the recliner, lifted his foot, and nudged Telfer awake. It was Telfer's turn to make owl noises, this one startled and ready to take?ight.

"Chill out," Cain told him. "I'm not going to harm you."

Stif?y, Telfer squirmed up to a sitting position. It wasn't an easy task with both hands and feet bound. "What's going on?" "Almost time to go," Cain told him. Telfer sucked in a couple of breaths, exhaled long and loud. Then he rocked forward so that he was on the edge of the recliner. He nodded at his bonds. "You planning on carrying me outta here?"

"No," Cain said, "I'm going to allow you to walk. But remember that I'll be holding a gun. Shout or try to run and I'll kill you. I don't care how many people are around, I'll do it. The truth-as they say- will out."

Telfer gave him an odd look. He had no idea what Cain was referring to. Cain smiled to himself. Let him wonder. Let him fear. Cain indicated Telfer's feet. "I'll cut you loose in a moment. Your hands'll stay tied until it's time to leave."

"Okay."

"If you want to use the bathroom I'll let you."

"That's good of you," Telfer grunted.

"That's okay. Don't want you thinking I'm a total bastard."

"The thought never crossed my mind," Telfer said. He watched Cain. The ghost of a smile played across Cain's lips.

"What've you got in your fridge? Anything cold to drink?" Cain asked.

"Nothing. Unless you like milk."

Cain made a face. Then, hopefully, "Chocolate milk?"

"Cow's milk."

Again the face.

"There's always tap water," Telfer offered.

"I'll pass," Cain said.

"You know, I think I do need to go to the toilet."

Cain tsk-tsked. "Better only be a number one. I refuse to wipe your ass for you."

"You could always loosen my hands," Telfer suggested with a smile.

"Your hands stay tied till I'm good and ready."

Telfer shrugged. "Do you want to unzip me?"

"Forget about it," Cain said deep in his throat. "You can go just before we leave."

Telfer gave him a wink and a jerk of his head.

"What are you so goddamn happy about?" Cain demanded.

"It's good to be alive," Telfer said.

"Yeah," Cain said. "Just keep that thought in mind and we'll do just?ne." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Okay, time to cut these ropes. And no Bruce Lee stuff. You try to kick me and I'll shoot your feet off."

If Telfer could have raised his palms, he would have. "I thought we'd made a deal. I'm not going to try to escape. I've promised you I'll do the deal for the litho plates. You've promised that you'll let me live. I'm happy with that." "I'll only be happy when you're out of my frigging hair," Cain grunted.

"You could always let me go now," Telfer offered.