” Henry mocked. “We’re talking about the woman Carla Hallestrom?”
“I’m fairly sure it’s her.”
“They just let her walk in? That goddamn labor chippie waltzes right into a hotel where a very important group of businessmen is staying on the afternoon of a crucial deal and they just let her walk in?” Henry’s voice was rising in volume, and the workers cast worried glances in his direction.
“I addressed that very point with them, and they said that they had not been given any directive for that situation.”
“Can’t they fucking think, for Christ’s sake?”
“They pride themselves on their discipline, as you know, sir. They held off and monitored the situation, as they put it.”
Henry knew that he had insisted upon this unstinting discipline. “So this Carla meets with Rinus and he decides—what?—he’s not going to move his factory here after all?”
“That’s not exactly what he said. He said he wanted to look at some options before committing to us.”
“It’s the same goddamn thing. If he leaves here without signing the contract, he won’t return.” Henry sighed. “What did she say to them? Did she threaten them? Bribe them? Did she whore herself for their compliance?”
Peja shrugged. “Rinus was not forthcoming.”
“Bring me a beer,” Henry yelled to nobody in particular. He wanted to go over to that hotel and grab Rinus by his fucking collar and drag him down here to sign the fucking contract and drink this shitty Polish beer and fulfill his goddamn responsibility. But experience had shown Henry that waiting would be more effective. Let them sleep on whatever it was that the little commie bitch had told them. He would speak to them in the morning, bring the entirety of his overpowering personality to bear on the Poles, and they would see sense. His powers of persuasion were rarely resisted.
He still had this evening to get through. He gave Peja a wolf’s grin.
“Don’t tell anyone that this deal has gone south. This is still a celebration. The story is the Poles have come down with food poisoning. Understand? This goes on as usual.”
Peja smiled. “You’ll go and talk to them?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You’ll use all your charm?” Peja said, and winked, feeling cocky again.
A young Mexican arrived with a beer that Henry took without comment. He took half of it down and refocused on Peja.
“There’s going to be a lot of goddamn charm for everyone,” Henry said, then drank the other half. He beckoned Peja closer so that they would not be overheard. “I need you to do something. I will not be crossed by any pissant union communist subversives. I want you to get in touch with Martens at the ASU. All resources are to be focused on finding Dotel and the girl. By morning, they need to be dead. Tell Martens his career is in the balance.”
Peja nodded, happy that someone else was now in the crosshairs.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
When her abductor came in, Nora was reading a copy of Othello she had found in the bookcase in her room. She’d seen the play years ago and could picture the performance as she read. She glanced up, no longer startled by his abrupt entrances.
Something about him had changed. The nature of the change was not entirely clear, nor what it signified, but it was there nonetheless. Was it a slight slump in his posture? A subtle line of stress in his usually placid features? And what accounted for it? The sexual tension that she had carefully fostered between them? Or something else? Was it a prelude to action? Was he gathering himself to do something to her? This thought scared her and also gave her hope. This was another crack in the dike, another possibility where there had once been none. She needed to figure out how to exploit it.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
The setting sun had turned the sky a dark purple, spotted with magenta cirrus clouds. Poole kept to side streets and alleys as he made his way back toward the Hollows. His left hand was immobilized in a bandage. As he walked, he periodically felt in his right pocket for the reassuring grip of Enrique’s pistol. He’d never shot anyone. Showing a gun was usually enough to discourage; a shot over the shoulder was always more than enough. People were in no hurry to die.
This, however, was a different situation. Previously, a gun had given him control over a situation, given him confidence. Now he was scared and knew that he would shoot to kill if confronted by the ASU. Preferring to