Free Lone Wolf #2: Bay Prowler by Mike Barry

don’t think we have a damned thing to talk about, Severo.”
    “Oh?” the man said, his eyes widening slightly, “then what are you here for?”
    “I came here to kill you.”
    The man exhaled flatly. “They’re right,” he said, “the reports are right. You’re crazy.”
    “Maybe.”
    “You’re crazy, Wulff; you want to take on the whole world. Don’t you understand there’s nothing to take on? I think that we should talk.”
    “There’s nothing to talk about,” Wulff said. “I’ve just killed two of your men, don’t you know that? What could we have to talk about?”
    Severo looked at him flatly. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “I figured you would kill them. After I talked around a little and read the reports I knew that we should have sent out a fucking army.”
    “There’s a big shipment coming through this territory very soon, I figure,” Wulff said. “A couple of million dollars worth of junk. You want to talk about something? You want to help me? Tell me where it’s moving in and when. That’s what we can talk about.”
    Severo shook his head and chuckled. With his free hand he beckoned to Wulff. “Come in,” he said, “come on in and we can talk about it.”
    “Go in there? You think I’m crazy, Severo? I may
be
crazy but not by half. I’m not going into your house on your terms to talk about anything.”
    Wulff willed himself to a further pitch of alertness, held the pistol so as to discharge it at the instant that Severo seemed to bring concentration to bear on his own gun. But he had misjudged his man; either that or Severo was operating on some level which Wulff could not yet comprehend. For the man shrugged, ducked his head and dropped the pistol abruptly to the ground. It clattered and lay by Wulff’s foot.
    Severo spread his hands and looked at Wulff. “All right,” he said, “let’s go for a little walk along the grounds.”
    “Why don’t I just kill you now and save the little walk?”
    “You’re not going to kill me now, Wulff. If you were going to you would have done it ten seconds ago. You’re not crazy at all, I respect you, you’re a man of purpose and it doesn’t suit your purpose right now to kill me. You think I might be able to tell you about that shipment.”
    “Will you?”
    “I don’t know,” Severo said. “I want to see what you have in mind. Maybe I’m not so crazy about this damned business myself, maybe I’m looking for an edge of some sort. You never know. We might be of some use to each other Wulff.”
    “I doubt that.”
    “I’ve been looking for someone like you for a long time,” Severo said. For the first time emotion seemed to infiltrate his voice. Can’t you understand that? Can’t you follow what I’m saying to you? I’ve been looking for this for a long time, Wulff, and maybe now it’s come. Now you don’t want to go into the house that’s all right. We can just walk around these grounds and talk. Or I’ll get into your death car over there and we’ll take a ride and talk.”
    Severo looked at him, five feet five inches of curiously concentrated authority, and Wulff felt the unreasonable respect building. It was impossible but he was dealing here with a man of force and responsibility who on some level had taken over from Wulff. It was now Severo pushing the bounds of the confrontation. “You really hate this don’t you?” he said, “you hate us.”
    “I hate junk,” Wulff said flatly. “I hate junk. I hate the people who deal in it, I hate the politicians and the businessmen locked away in safe places who make it all possible. Yes, I hate that.”
    “So do I,” said Severo softly. “So do I.”
    “So what does that mean?” Wulff said. “Should I give you a fucking medal because you say you hate junk? You’ve lived on it all your life, Severo. It built this place with walls to keep the junkies out.”
    “Not all my life. Not all my life by half. I think that we ought to take that ride, Wulff.”