the book from the picture frame. I was only too aware of how fragile it had become in recent months and I really didn’t want it to suffer any more damage.
“Who are you?” Victoria asked from behind me. “What are you doing here?”
The man looked up from the book with a pained expression on his face, as if we’d rudely interrupted his reading. “Who I am is none of your concern, Miss Newbury.” His Russian accent was becoming more pronounced. So was the unease he was causing me. “But who you are interests me very much. I have learned a great deal about you in only two days. You also, Mr. Howard. Forgive me, but you interest me in particular.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said. “I do have a pretty engaging personality. Perhaps we could meet for a drink sometime? Somewhere other than my apartment late at night?”
He smiled thinly. The light from the ceiling bulb bounced off the lenses of his glasses.
“Your book,” he said, in a clipped voice, and lifted it in his hands. “It is burned, yes?”
“An accident,” I told him.
“Ah, yes. Accidents can be so … unfortunate. Especially where fire is concerned.”
The temperature in the room seemed to have heated up all of a sudden. The stocky guy was still pointing his gun at the side of my head, holding it in a two-handed grip. My skin was prickling beneath his aim.
I wet my lips and did my best to keep my voice even. “That’s a threat, right?” I said. “I only ask because I like to be sure about these things. It’s kind of embarrassing to misread a social situation. I mean, it could be you’ve let yourself into my apartment with your rent-a-goon, here, for some sort of spontaneous book club. A quaint little chat about Sam Spade and Dashiell Hammett.”
He closed my book and tossed it carelessly onto the surface of my desk. Then he clasped his gloved hands together and rested them on his knee.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“The item,” the man said, and plucked an imaginary shred of lint from his trousers. “The one Mr. Farmer was so keen for you to fetch.”
I swallowed. Heavily. I didn’t like the way things were shaping up. I didn’t like how much he seemed to know.
“Listen,” I said, “how about you let Victoria wait outside for a while? At least until we’ve finished talking. She really has nothing to do with any of this.”
“So chivalrous, Mr. Howard.” There was a studied cadence to his speech, the minor delay of the translation going on in his mind. “But I am sorry, I cannot grant your request.”
“I won’t call the police,” Victoria told him. “I promise.”
“Oh, but there is no need for your promise, Miss Newbury. Of course you will not call the police. You’ve been helping a burglar. You negotiated a fee on his behalf. Calling the police would be a very dangerous thing for you to do.”
I shuffled my feet. It felt like I was balancing on a high wire. And I really didn’t want to stumble and fall.
“Can we put our arms down, at least?” I asked.
“No, you can answer my question. Did you find the item?”
I could feel Victoria staring at me. Urging me to provide the answer the man wanted.
“I’m afraid not,” I said.
“Then I’m afraid, too, Mr. Howard. I’m afraid that you are lying to me.”
He reached one gloved hand inside his overcoat and removed it again very quickly. Now he was holding a pistol of his own. It had a suppressor screwed onto the barrel.
I might not have the sharpest of minds, but even I could tell the situation was deteriorating.
“I will ask you again,” the man said. “And if you lie to me, I will shoot you in the leg.”
“Which leg?”
“Five seconds, Mr. Howard.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Five.”
I shook my head. “I honestly can’t believe you’re giving me a countdown.”
“Four.”
“You struck me as such a sophisticated guy. But now you’re engaging in the worst sort of
“Who are you?” Victoria asked from behind me. “What are you doing here?”
The man looked up from the book with a pained expression on his face, as if we’d rudely interrupted his reading. “Who I am is none of your concern, Miss Newbury.” His Russian accent was becoming more pronounced. So was the unease he was causing me. “But who you are interests me very much. I have learned a great deal about you in only two days. You also, Mr. Howard. Forgive me, but you interest me in particular.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said. “I do have a pretty engaging personality. Perhaps we could meet for a drink sometime? Somewhere other than my apartment late at night?”
He smiled thinly. The light from the ceiling bulb bounced off the lenses of his glasses.
“Your book,” he said, in a clipped voice, and lifted it in his hands. “It is burned, yes?”
“An accident,” I told him.
“Ah, yes. Accidents can be so … unfortunate. Especially where fire is concerned.”
The temperature in the room seemed to have heated up all of a sudden. The stocky guy was still pointing his gun at the side of my head, holding it in a two-handed grip. My skin was prickling beneath his aim.
I wet my lips and did my best to keep my voice even. “That’s a threat, right?” I said. “I only ask because I like to be sure about these things. It’s kind of embarrassing to misread a social situation. I mean, it could be you’ve let yourself into my apartment with your rent-a-goon, here, for some sort of spontaneous book club. A quaint little chat about Sam Spade and Dashiell Hammett.”
He closed my book and tossed it carelessly onto the surface of my desk. Then he clasped his gloved hands together and rested them on his knee.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“The item,” the man said, and plucked an imaginary shred of lint from his trousers. “The one Mr. Farmer was so keen for you to fetch.”
I swallowed. Heavily. I didn’t like the way things were shaping up. I didn’t like how much he seemed to know.
“Listen,” I said, “how about you let Victoria wait outside for a while? At least until we’ve finished talking. She really has nothing to do with any of this.”
“So chivalrous, Mr. Howard.” There was a studied cadence to his speech, the minor delay of the translation going on in his mind. “But I am sorry, I cannot grant your request.”
“I won’t call the police,” Victoria told him. “I promise.”
“Oh, but there is no need for your promise, Miss Newbury. Of course you will not call the police. You’ve been helping a burglar. You negotiated a fee on his behalf. Calling the police would be a very dangerous thing for you to do.”
I shuffled my feet. It felt like I was balancing on a high wire. And I really didn’t want to stumble and fall.
“Can we put our arms down, at least?” I asked.
“No, you can answer my question. Did you find the item?”
I could feel Victoria staring at me. Urging me to provide the answer the man wanted.
“I’m afraid not,” I said.
“Then I’m afraid, too, Mr. Howard. I’m afraid that you are lying to me.”
He reached one gloved hand inside his overcoat and removed it again very quickly. Now he was holding a pistol of his own. It had a suppressor screwed onto the barrel.
I might not have the sharpest of minds, but even I could tell the situation was deteriorating.
“I will ask you again,” the man said. “And if you lie to me, I will shoot you in the leg.”
“Which leg?”
“Five seconds, Mr. Howard.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Five.”
I shook my head. “I honestly can’t believe you’re giving me a countdown.”
“Four.”
“You struck me as such a sophisticated guy. But now you’re engaging in the worst sort of