The Professional - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,9

didn’t see Margi from the client-services office. Though Courtney could have been Margi with a change of makeup. Then the client-training director took me to the client-training office to assess me physically. He took my blood pressure and pulse. He weighed me. And pronounced me fit. He turned me over to a personal trainer, an in-shape young man named Luke, who offered to help me learn the various pieces of equipment. I declined.

“I’ve worked out a lot,” I said. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

Luke nodded.

“I kind of figured that,” he said. “You need anything, give me a shout.”

I got a locker and a padlock. I didn’t really need one, except for the gun. I hated wearing a gun while working out. So I changed into some sweats and left the gun in the locker. If Margi spotted me from the client-services office and rushed me, I might be able to run for it.

I was limited in my workouts by the fact that I could use only equipment near the front window, where I could watch for Gary Eisenhower entering the lobby. Who kept not showing up every day.

Susan came with me for a guest workout one day. Everything she wore to work out in fit her exactly and matched perfectly. Her thick, dark hair was held in place by what must have been a designer headband. And her makeup was impeccable. She’d been doing a lot of power yoga lately, which made her even stronger and more supple than she already was. A lot of people looked at her.

“My,” Susan said, as she looked around Pinnacle Fitness. “You fit in here like a rhinoceros at a petting zoo.”

“I’m undercover,” I said, “disguised as a thug.”

“It’s very convincing,” Susan said. “You’re waiting for Gary Whosis to show up?”

“Yes.”

“How long do you plan to wait?”

“I have a six-month membership,” I said.

“You are a stubborn boy,” she said.

“I am.”

“Maybe I can help,” she said. “Show me the picture again.”

“It’s still censored,” I said.

“How too bad,” Susan said.

We worked out as long as we could stand to and then went to change. When I came dressed from the shower, through the front window of the gym I saw Zel and Boo come into the club lobby. I went out.

“Looking for somebody?” I said.

“Same as you,” Zel said.

Behind him, Boo was giving me the deadeye stare that was supposed to freeze my blood in my veins.

I said, “How ya doin’, Boo?”

“Fuck you,” he said.

I nodded.

“You looking for Gary Eisenhower?” I said to Zel.

“Yep.”

“But you don’t know what he looks like,” I said. “So actually you swung by to see if I’d made any progress.”

“Yep,” Zel said.

“I haven’t,” I said.

“You know what he looks like?” Zel said.

“No,” I said.

“The hell you don’t,” Zel said. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know.”

I shrugged.

“How about it, Zel,” Boo said. “Lemme go with him a little.”

Zel ignored him.

“We’re after the same thing,” Zel said. “Don’t see why we can’t cooperate.”

“What’s Boo after?” I said.

“Boo wants what I want,” Zel said.

“And you want?”

“What Chet tells me,” Zel said.

“Too many levels of command for me,” I said. “I think I’ll mosey along on this by myself.”

“Don’t mind if we mosey on along behind you,” Zel said.

“Nope.”

“What if you did mind?” Boo said. “What you gonna do?”

“Let’s wait until I mind,” I said.

Boo wanted so badly to prove he was tougher than I was that I felt almost bad for him.

“Two things, Boo,” Zel said. “One, it ain’t time for you to do your thing. And two, I ain’t so sure you can do it with him.”

“Like hell,” Boo said.

“Listen to Zel,” I said to Boo.

“See you around,” Zel said.

He jerked his head toward the elevator. Boo was still giving me the stare.

“Boo,” Zel said quietly. “We’re leaving.”

He walked to the elevator and pushed the button. Boo stared at me. The elevator arrived and the door slid open.

“Boo,” Zel said. “Now!”

Boo turned and went to the elevator. Zel followed him in. The door slid shut. I looked back toward the health club. Susan, showered, made up, coiffed, and in street clothes, was standing inside the big window holding a two-and-a-half-pound dumbbell. I went back inside the club.

“What was your plan?” I said.

“The ugly guy you were having a stare-off with,” Susan said.

“If things unraveled, I was going to run out and hit him with the dumbbell.”

“Appropriate choice of weapon,” I said.

“For either one of you,” Susan said.

I crooked my arm for her to take.

“Buy you a drink, Wonder Woman?” I