Ross Thomas - Backup Men

“Let’s go,” Padillo said.

We caught up with Wanda about halfway down the carpeted corridor. Her face was pale and there was hard glitter in her eyes.

“You made it,” she said, not seeming at all surprised. “Did Kragstein and Gitner?”

“No,” Padillo said. “They’re dead.”

“Good. Aren’t you going to interrupt the charade in there?”

“We were counting on you for that.”

“I got what I wanted.”

“They might bring it off,” Padillo said.

She nodded. “I know. Why don’t you stop them?”

“McCorkle would like to. He’s got a speech all prepared.”

She looked at me. “Well?”

“I’ve found that oil companies can take care of themselves without much help from me. I’m more interested in that note you handed the king.”

“Yes,” she said. “The note.”

“How much cut did you ask for, Wanda?” Padillo said.

“No cut,” she said, her tone as cold as her eyes.

“No?”

“No,” she said. “I take it all. The entire five million.”

“That’ll buy Walter a lot of revenge.”

She shook her head slowly. “You can’t buy it for the dead and there’s something else about it you should learn.”

“What?”

“The dead don’t really care.”

“Does five million dollars teach you that?”

She nodded. “It helps.”

26

THEY CAUGHT up with the king and Scales four days later in Milan, but not before they had withdrawn the five million dollars from the Swiss bank. When they were caught they had $52.56 in Italian lira between them. All they would say when asked about what had happened to the rest of the money was, “We spent it.”

I read about it my first day back at work as I stood at the bar and drank a martini at eleven thirty in the morning because, for some reason, I thought it might stop my left arm from itching underneath the cast. It didn’t, but it at least made it more bearable.

Padillo came in, took a letter from his pocket, and handed it to me. “It’s to both of us,” he said. The letter was from a Swiss bank and the most interesting paragraph read:

“Our client, Miss Wanda Gothar, has asked that we transfer the sum of $50,000 to a joint account which we have opened in your names at the Riggs National Bank in Washington, D.C. She also asked us to express her heartfelt appreciation for the courtesies that you extended to her during her recent holiday in America.”

“Is it real?” I asked.

“I’ve already checked. It’s real.”

Karl moved down the bar toward us and started arranging some glasses. “Now that both of you guys are back—”

“He’s got a lead on a Duesenberg,” I told Padillo. “He wants us to lend him five thousand.”

Padillo glanced at the letter that I still held. “Why not?” he said.

“All right,” I said. “Buy it.”

Karl beamed and then, because he wanted to demonstrate that he was really interested in his employers’ welfare, he said, “How was San Francisco?”

“Fine,” I said.

“You guys going to open another place out there?”

Padillo shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“We thought it lacked the proper ambience,” I said.

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copyright © 1971 by Ross Thomas

cover design by Jason Gabbert

This edition published in 2011 by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media

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