Free 24: Deadline (24 Series) by James Swallow Page B

thing to say.
    “I’m a what now?” Roker exploded with rage. It wasn’t surprising, all that frustration and fear at being forced into a face-to-face with deSalvo had nowhere to go, so now it was expressing itself in anger toward Charlie. He swore loudly and jabbed his finger toward the driver’s face. “I pay your wages, asshole! I pay you to drive and shut the hell up, understand?”
    “I understand, Mr. Roker,” he said tonelessly, going through the motions of a conversation they had replayed a dozen times.
    “That’s right!” Roker retorted. As they drove, Big Mike began picking apart every last detail of the meeting with deSalvo, repeating it and reliving it as if he were having a conversation with himself.
    Charlie didn’t offer any more insights, he just let Roker talk and talk, and by the time they were turning off the highway toward the dealership, the other man had rearranged the narrative of the meet to make it sound like it was Big Mike who had made it happen, talking himself into believing that he was the key player.
    The showroom was a glass-fronted hangar filled with new Chryslers like the 300 and a few classic muscle cars. It reminded Charlie of a gargantuan fish tank, the impression heightened by the cool blue-white lighting inside that showcased the polished bodies and chrome accents of the vehicles. Above the entrance, a large banner announced BIG MIKE’S BIG DEALS! and Charlie reflected that it was as much a mission statement for Roker’s life as it was a commercial for his dealership. Mike Roker so desperately wanted to be a big deal, and he was forever angry at the world for making him fall short of that.
    Charlie frowned as they pulled to a stop at the rear of the building, where the maintenance bay was open to the evening air.
    Roker’s wife, Barbara, pushed past two of the mechanics working late and strode out to meet them, and she too appeared to be spoiling for a fight. He remembered something his dad had once told him: This is the kind of person who’ll find an argument in a bouquet of roses .
    For a moment, Barbara Roker’s sour expression shifted as he got out of the car, and as she saw the driver her face lit up with a predatory smirk. “Hey Charlie,” she purred.
    “Mrs. Roker,” he replied. The woman had made it clear she was interested in furthering their employer-employee relationship in a way that he wasn’t comfortable with, and so far, he’d been able to keep himself at arm’s length.
    But in the next moment, Barbara’s expression shifted back toward irritation as her husband stepped out from the 300. “Where were you?” she demanded.
    “Ah, crap.” Big Mike deflated, running a hand over his face. “Barb. Yeah. Sorry.”
    “ Sorry? ” she repeated, her voice rising. “You were supposed to pick me up, you prick! I had to get a cab!”
    “Something came up,” Roker insisted, faking a smile. “Last second. Ernie deSalvo called me. Needed me to help him out.”
    He made it sound like the other man had come to him on bended knee, but Barbara saw right through the spin her husband had put on the situation and scowled at him. “Oh yeah? He snaps his fingers and you say, ‘How high,’ right?” She shook her head. “Mike, when you gonna stand up to that roach? You make me sick.”
    Roker’s false front collapsed and Charlie watched his cheeks color. “Do what? I talk back to him and I get a bullet in the face ten seconds later! Where would you get your cash for your stupid shoe collection then, huh?”
    “You know nothing,” she shot back. “Men like that? They respect strength.” Barbara looked toward Charlie. “You know what I mean, right?”
    “Don’t ask him!” Roker bellowed. “What the hell does he know?”
    Charlie opened his mouth to say something that would let him disengage from the unfolding argument, but there was no need. It was already under way and neither husband nor wife were registering him anymore. He drifted toward the bench