and lowered his voice. “He asked me to deliver something to you.”
Walt hesitated. Maybe he’d been too quick to jump to conclusions. This Cop Killer thing was making him jittery. Could be this was some sort of entrapment trick from that wiseass McGuire. Because he suddenly remembered where he’d seen this dumbass redhead before. He was a PA at the seventh district. He’d checked in with him before talking to the task force dickhead.
“I don’t know any Jim Gorenson.” He had to get the booze in the car so his hand would be free to draw his weapon if he needed to. Nonchalantly he set down both purchases while he used the remote to unlock his vehicle. McGuire was pathetic if he was behind this. Although a part of him wondered how the task force had gotten Gorenson’s name.
“Maybe you know him better as Hans. Listen.” The guy sounded like he was getting impatient. “I’m parked in the alley out back because Gorenson said you might have a tail on you. He doesn’t want to call because your phone might be tapped. I don’t know what’s going on and frankly I don’t care. You want what he sent with me for you, fine. If not, I’ll take it back to him.”
Hans. There was no one outside the John Squad who knew about their names. No way that could have been figured out, was there? Walt wasn’t taking any chances. He set the booze in the backseat, making damn sure he never had his back to the man. The whole thing was probably bogus but there was only one way to find out.
“Okay, let’s see what you got.”
“Not here.” The little weasel actually looked nervous. “He said you might have someone watching you. I’m going to walk into the liquor store and out the back door. You follow me in a few minutes.”
The hair on the back of Walt’s neck prickled. Yeah, he’d follow him all right. He’d follow him and ram his ninemillimeter up the guy’s ass. “Whatever.”
He jammed a finger at the guy’s map and said in a loud voice, “You’re way the hell on the wrong side of town. If you want to get to Center City, you need to follow this road and then hang a right here.” He traced the path on the map and got in his car. The guy folded the map and headed into the liquor store.
Then Walt reached inside his jacket and removed his weapon. Tucked it into his waistband at the small of his back. Whatever the jackass out back was trying to pull, he was about to get a very big surprise.
Walt dawdled inside the store for a few minutes, drawing an anxious look from the clerk before he headed for the back door. Sure enough, there was the dickwad with the map, fidgeting anxiously next to a burgundy Chrysler.
“Oh good,” he said, with relief evident in his voice. “Here. I’ve got what Hans sent in my trunk.”
Walt smiled grimly. He waited for the man to turn to open it then closed the distance between them, shoving the guy’s head down hard against the trunk lid, yanking his weapon out to press it against his temple. “What the hell you pulling here, limp dick? Huh? Who the hell do you think you’re dealing with?” He almost hoped McGuire had sent the little weasel. Yeah, he wouldn’t mind humiliating that asswipe.
“Jesus, Jesus, what are you doing?” The guy was practically sniveling. And there was a satisfying amount of blood running down his face. “Did you break my nose? I think you broke my fucking nose!”
“And that’s not the last thing I’m going to break. Now let’s open that trunk nice and easy, and you can tell me all about this bullshit story you dreamed up.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” The guy’s voice was muffled. “This is the last time I’m doing Jim a favor.”
Walt kept the weapon ready while the trunk lid opened. Saw a large brown envelope and a box of black notebooks in a cardboard box. “What the hell is all this?”
The guy was shaking like a leaf. Probably going to piss himself at any minute. “The envelope is from him. It should have some kind of explanation in it. He said the books were old records. He wants you to get rid of them.”
A flare of bitterness spurted. Yeah, let good ol’ Johnny get caught with the records. Which should have been destroyed fifteen years ago when they’d gone to computer