David Liss - The Ethical Assassin

B.B. bit his lip. “Okay, we’ll take care of it. What’s number two?”

“You know the legislature is taking up that bill in the next session to severely limit door-to-door sales. I’ve just received word that if I go against it, I am going to face severe fund-raising problems. Now, you know I want to help you out, B.B. I’ve always stood up for you, always valued our relationship. But it’s going to cost me to go against this bill, and if it’s going to cost me, I’m going to have to make up that cost somewhere.”

“He wants another donation,” Desiree said. She’d been doing a lot of that sort of thing lately, stating the obvious as though B.B. wouldn’t have understood what Rose meant without her help.

“Christ, Otto, can’t this wait?”

“I came to see you about the reporter, but since I was here, well, it seemed like as good a time as any. Of course, I know you were busy mentoring. If you would rather mentor than take care of business, that is your own concern. Still, I am not entirely certain you want the business community to learn just how important this mentoring is to you.”

Fuck if here wasn’t Rose putting on the squeeze, trying to use his charitable nature against him. A man wanted to help out the unfortunate, and he had to answer to one opportunistic cynic after another. And the thing was, Rose put all that work into crime prevention, after-school programs for the kids in Overtown, but no one could say anything about that because he was black and those kids were black, and all of that meant that Rose was a saint. So now he had to stand out here, talking bullshit with a state legislator while Chuck sat by himself at the table, his friendly mood deteriorating with each minute.

“How much are we talking about?” Desiree asked.

“Same as last time, my darling.”

Same as last time meant $25,000. These little payouts were adding up to huge money.

“Give us a moment, Otto,” Desiree said. She put a hand on B.B.’s arm and led him about twenty feet into the parking lot. “What do you think?”

“I think I don’t want to pay him any more money.”

“Of course not, but if this bill goes through, you’re going to have a lot of problems.”

“So you’re saying we should pay?”

“Probably, but make it clear that this is the last time. You don’t want him to think he can come to you to strap on the feed bag every time he’s feeling he needs a few extra dollars. This is starting to feel like a shakedown.”

B.B. nodded. “When we get rid of him, get on the phone to the Gambler and make sure he gets the heads-up about the reporter. And his crew should be making a payment after the weekend. Make sure he can get the cash to us.”

“Okay.”

They walked back over to Rose, who was still grinning as though he were about to deliver a singing telegram.

“I’ll have the money by next week,” B.B. said, “but this is the last time.”

“Come now, my friend. You know I cannot make any guarantees.”

“We can’t make any guarantees, either. You get me, don’t you?”

“Of course, B.B.”

“I’ve got to get back inside.”

“Yes. That boy might be tempted to start mentoring himself,” Rose said.

With B.B. back inside the restaurant, Desiree remained leaning against the clean car, arms still folded as she looked at Otto. Her shoulder-length dirty-blond hair blew lightly in the wind and lifted her chin, which accentuated the sharpness of her nose. She knew that if she held her head just so, she could make herself look pointier and angrier, and she wanted to look angry now. Desiree wasn’t quite ready to confront B.B. She wasn’t quite ready to say the things she needed to say. The end had to come, and she knew it, but it didn’t need to come tonight.

It wasn’t fear. People who had never met B.B., who knew him only by reputation or by the size and ingenuity of his operation, feared him. Desiree, however, knew better. No, it wasn’t fear. It was obligation- and it was pity. But she felt no pity for Otto Rose.

“Oh, come, Desiree. Don’t give me that look, beautiful. You know it is business. If you work for a man like B.B., you must expect men like me to deal with him as he deserves.”

She shook her head. “Don’t back me into a corner, Otto, by saying things about B.B.”

“You’re right. You are nothing if not loyal. I am sorry I spoke so. I won’t say another word about B.B., but may I say a word about you?”

“If you must.” She let her expression slacken a little, took some of the heat off.

Otto took a step closer. “You are much too- too good - to work for a man like B.B. I don’t merely mean good at your job, though I do believe that. I mean you are a good person.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem doing business with B.B.”

He laughed. “I’m a politician, my dear. It is too late for me to be good. But it is not too late for you, young and talented and lovely as you are. Why don’t you leave him?”

The question needed dodging, and Desiree fought the urge to physically duck. She didn’t want to deal with his probing now. “I owe him, okay, Otto? That’s all I want to say.”

“I know you owe him. But how much can you owe? Do you owe him enough to help him do what he does? Or to help him with those boys?”

“He is just their mentor, Otto. No one can say anything about B.B. and his boys. I live in the same house with him, remember? I’m the live-in help.”

“Yes, of course. The better to make the world believe that the two of you are lovers. He may not do anything with those boys, Desiree, you must know that he wants to, and how long before he gives in to that?”

“I don’t want to hear it. I won’t listen.”

“I don’t mean to push. It is only that I want to help you, and I become eager. Let’s then not talk about B.B. Let’s talk about you, my dear.”

“What, do you want to ask me out on a date?” she asked, but she kept her voice playful, careful to sound anything but bitter or sarcastic.

“I would not dare to hope for such good fortune,” Otto said. “I have something a bit more formal in mind. I know you depend on B.B. for protection, so maybe you would feel you had more options if there was someone else offering you protection.”

“You?”

“I could offer you a job in my office, Desiree. I know your worth, and I can promise you it would be a high-ranking job. Of course, nothing in politics pays well, but it would be a fine opportunity for a talented young lady like yourself.”

“What kind of protection can you offer me when you might be voted out of office every election cycle?”

He laughed. “Who is there to challenge me? You must at least listen to my advice, darling.”

She nodded.

“Let’s sit in my car for a few minutes.”

“You sure you’re not asking me out on a date?” she said.

“I am almost sure,” Otto said.

He led her to his massive Oldsmobile, painted a shiny sun yellow. He opened the passenger side for her, and she slid onto the leather seats. He went around to the other side, slid the key in the ignition, and got the engine revving. In a moment he had the air-conditioning going and the low murmur of dance music from the radio.

He put a hand on top of hers. Maybe he did plan to offer her a job, but he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be willing to give him more. “Shall I tell what I have in mind?” he asked.

“First, I should tell you something,” she said. Then she lashed out, cobra fast, and had a hand on his throat. She slid over to his side and straddled him, as if they were having sex. She could feel the bulge in his pants, and she could feel it diminishing. In an instant it was both hands on his throat, and she was leaning forward, putting all of her weight- not ever above 110 pounds- straight down on him.