Free The Echelon Vendetta by David Stone Page B

Maybe there are rules about this sort of thing. Maybe I’ve got amnesia.”
    “You can’t have amnesia when you’re dead.”
    “I’m the only dead guy in this room. So far. I’ve even been autopsied. I’m certifiably and reliably dead. I think that gives me a measure of credibility.”
    “Stallworth thinks you committed suicide. So do the cops.”
    “Suicide? Not my style. I had too much to live for.”
    “Stallworth didn’t think so.”
    Naumann cocked his head to the side.
    “Yeah? Why not?”
    “He said you had a prostate operation. Lost your will to live.”
    Naumann snorted. “He knew that, huh? That surgeon of mine couldn’t keep a secret if it was hammered up his colon and sutured shut. Sure I had a prostate operation. And it screwed up my courting tackle. So what? I could still play the trumpet, enjoy a scotch. Life was sweet. Come to think of it, I wish I’d paid more attention to being alive when I was still alive.”
    “This is a real Hallmark moment for me, I’m sure. I’m touched beyond words. La douceur de la vie and all that. But I have to figure out what happened to you.”
    “Look, kid, I haven’t got much time—” Naumann made a move as if to check his wristwatch, realized he didn’t have one anymore, and sighed heavily, his mood darkening.
    “Damn. That was a Chopard. I wonder who got it.”
    “It’ll be in your effects, Porter. I’ll get them tomorrow.”
    “Make sure you do. It was an anniversary gift from Joanne. However, back to my point, as much as I’ve enjoyed seeing you one more time, and I admit that I have thoroughly loved freaking the living Jesus out of you, I’m actually here to give you some advice.”
    Dalton emitted a pained groan and put his head in his hands. “Please. Not Marley’s ghost.”
    60 | david stone
    “What? You don’t think you need some advice?” “Not from a ghost.” “Ghost? I thought I was just a figment? How about we ask Milan
    and Gavro if you need any advice?”
    This brought Dalton’s head up. Far too quickly. The room reeled, steadied, and somewhere inside his skull a vein pulsed in time to the gentle heaving of his stomach. “You saw that?”
    “Saw it? Christ, Micah. It was hard to miss. You sang ‘People’ while you kicked Milan around the plaza. Where did that ugly shit come from?”
    “I gave those assholes a wake-up call. That’s all.” “You really think Gavro’s gonna wake up?” “I actually don’t give a flying bat-fart. No offense.” “He’s in a coma. And Milan’s gonna spend the rest of his life in
    a wheelchair down by the seashore, wearing a diaper and drooling at
    the nurses.” “You don’t think the world’s a better place without those mutts?” “Yeah. I probably do. But you’re gonna get some serious grief for
    it. Believe it or not, Gavro had family. A nasty vengeful family. So like they say in those legal notice letters, govern yourself accordingly. But that’s not why I’m here. I mean, watching you do it was diverting as hell and I can hardly wait to tell the guys back in the station all about it. But I was gonna drop by for a talk anyway.”
    “Lucky me.”
    “Yes. Lucky you. You’re going to wake up tomorrow morning and convince yourself this was all some kind of fever dream. Then you’ll go on about your business for Stallworth and the Agency. You shouldn’t. None of that shit really matters.”
    “No. And precisely what shit does matter?” “You need to go see Laura.” “Laura? That’s why you’re here? Jesus. You banged on that tin
    drum way too much while you were still alive. Give it a rest.”
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    “No. Laura is what this is all about. You have to make amends.” “Amends? Since when did you start using words like ‘amends’? There must be a thesaurus in Hell.”
    “I always tailored my vocabulary for my listeners. With you I had to stick with words of one syllable or less. We were talking about Laura. You need to make things right