Cold Snap Read Online Free PDF Page B

time from
STS," Ari said in amiable innocence.
    Bristol's laugh lost its refined tone and
came out crudely unedited. Bruce was slightly aghast.
    "Where are you from, again?"
    "Sicily."
    "Well, they sure as hell must know what I'm
talking about in Sicily. Pit bulls are dogs. Dogs with a
purpose."
    "Ah," said Ari, looking abashed but not
feeling it. Just another colloquial misstep. "You breed dogs in
pits?"
    Bruce clutched Bristol's arm and gave it a
squeeze, as though drawing his attention to a platypus.
    "Think about it, Bruce," Bristol admonished.
He was a head taller than Turner, which seemed to mystically
transfer a corporate dominance to the physical. He had referred to
the shorter man as 'my sysadmin'—whatever that was. "They must be
called pit bulls for a reason."
    "Because they fight in the pits!" Bruce
exclaimed.
    "Which is illegal and a little bit
disgusting, right?"
    "Oh, right." Bruce let go of his coworker and
shuffled into a robe of moral rectitude. "Hey, everything is
locality. Go to Spain, they kick dogs in the street. Cross the
border into France and you see dogs being served in restaurants,
which I guess says something about the food—"
    "Bruce…" Bristol cautioned.
    "I breed pit bulls for the market. They're
great for home defense."
    Ari was not put off by dog-fighting. The
sport (if it could be called a sport) was a favorite pastime in
many Arab countries. Matches were fruitful targets for suicide
bombers, who were sure to kill hundreds at a time in the densely
packed crowds. Oddly enough, dog-fighting was forbidden by those
soft-hearted souls, the Taliban.
    "You're saying one should be cautious when
knocking on someone's door," he said.
    Bruce laughed appreciatively, catching no
hint of criticism. "Yeah, make sure you know the folks inside. If
they have a strong sense of property rights, as well they should,
be sure to call, first. And make sure they don't own a
Rottweiler."
    "Bruce is a graduate of UVA—"
    "Voted best drinking school in the
country."
    "—but he's a little rough around the edges,"
Bristol finished with a shrug.
    "Table manners weren't in the curriculum,"
Bruce admitted. "Don't belong there, anyway."
    "I hope you show some manners while eating
your coq au vin. Which smells fantastic, by the way."
    "Snob." Bruce made a face of disgust. "I'm
only eating it because I'm rooting for a promotion. With the
sysadmin at Stanley & Starr blown to pieces, there's a lot less
talent available."
    "Locally," Bristol said airily.
    "Yeah..."
    "Blown to bits?" Ari inquired.
    "You didn't hear?" Bruce said with a ghoulish
expression. "A bomb went off in one of our competitor's offices.
Poor slob sysadmin had only been back from Iraq for a few months,
and that happens."
    "He was killed?"
    "Pretty much."
    "Was it a mail bomb?"
    "I guess. The police aren't saying."
    "And he had been in Iraq?"
    "I only know what they said on the news. He
was subbed out to the Army, working with their computers in the
Green Zone. There a full year. His name was Abdul
Something-or-other. One of those artificially naturalized
immigrants."
    "Stop stuffing yourself with those wieners,"
Bristol admonished his employee. "You'll ruin your appetite."
    Ari became lightheaded. "If you don't wish to
partake in fine cuisine, I would—"
    "Hey, Bruce," Bristol cut him off, seeing
where Ari was headed. "Tell Ari how you train your mutts. With the
cats, I mean."
    Ari took alarm. He stared at Bruce, who
failed to notice his suddenly-piercing eyes.
    "Yeah, we got a ton of stray cats in my neck
of the woods. Whenever I see one, I sic one of my dogs on it. Tears
it to shreds. You should hear the howling!"
    Bristol, his lips compressed, was watching
Ari. "Maybe in Italy they don't—"
    "I, too, have an avocation."
    "What's that?" Bruce asked densely.
    "I assassinate men who torment cats."
    There was a tense pause. Ari sounded very
convincing.
    "Yeeaah...?" Bruce said slowly.
    "It's actually quite remunerative," said Ari.
"I send the extra money