Quarry's Choice Read Online Free PDF Page A

all necessary liquidations ‘within house.’ That is certainly his privilege. I hold no long-term contracts with anyone.”
    It seemed to me that every contract we handled was as about long-term as it got, but I let it go. Honestly, though, “henceforth”?
    “I am viewed,” the Broker said, his eyes open now and on me, “as a loose end. The expression, however trite, remains apt: ‘ I know too much. ’ ”
    And now so did I.
    “So it’s Killian, then,” I said. “Point me.”
    He shook his head, frowning. “It’s not that simple, nothing so straightforward. There’s a need for this to seem like something other than a simple hit.”
    “I don’t do accidents.”
    “No, I know, that requires special training, and gifts that are not among yours.” He had a healthy swig of beer. “No, I have something in mind for how this might be handled, but first it requires that you go. . .well, I suppose the term is ‘undercover.’ ”
    “Come again?”
    There was a twinkle in the gray eyes as he replied—a fucking twinkle, I swear. “Mr. Colton has agreed to help us remove Mr. Killian.”
    “Could we skip the ‘misters’? We are talking about killing this prick. And what makes you think you can trust Colton?”
    He batted that away. “I don’t think it’s a matter of the second-in-command wishing to stage a coup—more that Mr. Killian and his roughneck ways. . .no matter how well he may dress, and I understand he is quite the clotheshorse. . .is making enemies in certain Biloxi circles of power. His behavior is so outrageous and so damned grasping that the politicians would very much like to see him retire. Or I should say, ‘retired.’ ”
    “A gold watch with a bullet through it.”
    “Metaphorically correct.” He twisted toward me in the wooden chair and his hands were folded, resting against an arm of it. “There is an opening on Mr. Killian’s staff of bodyguards that Mr. Colton is in a position to arrange for you to fill. That will put you very close to Mr. Killian. Close enough for you to gain his trust, or at least his laxity.”
    “Close enough to put out his lights.”
    Short, quick nods. “But he is extremely well-insulated, and this must be accomplished in a manner that won’t embarrass or, worse, implicate Mr. Colton. Are you willing?”
    “Like the Pope said on his death bed, why me?”
    The Broker gestured in a slow-motion manner. “As it happens, you’ve never done a job in that colorful region. Never done a job emanating from that client. You are, after all, fairly new to the business.”
    “Yeah, you can’t beat a fresh face. But what about the guys in the green Caddy the other night? You know, the one with the Mississippi plates?”
    Both eyebrows went up, the white caterpillars on their hind legs again. “Well, one of them is quite dead, and the other was occupied, and probably got little more than a glimpse of you, if that, in that under-lit lot. Additionally, you were firing that weapon of yours, and I’m sure the orange flames it was spitting were a distraction.”
    “They usually are. I don’t have to use a Southern accent or anything, do I?”
    “No! You’ll be a damn Yankee, but one recommended by the Number Two in the organization. You’ll use ‘Quarry,’ and is ‘John’ all right for a first name?”
    “Sure. Why not.”
    He damn near beamed. Staying in the wooden deck chair, sticking his legs straight out, he dug in a pants pocket and withdrew a fat letter-sized envelope, folded over. “Here’s expense money, and a Michigan driver’s license.”
    I took it. Two grand in hundreds, and a license with a picture of me—Broker had plenty of those from various states for this exact purpose.
    But I frowned at him. “If you already had this ready, why ask if I was okay with ‘John’?”
    “Why,” he asked, frowning back, “aren’t you all right with it?”
    “No, that’s not the point. It’s just. . .skip it.”
    My saying yes had brightened his