Free Full Circle by Collin Wilcox Page A

here to do business, Mr. Bernhardt. If you’d rather call me names …” Powers let it go unfinished. Watching him, Bernhardt realized that at some deep, primitive level, himself surprised, caught utterly unaware, he must abuse this man until he saw fear in his face. There was no other way.
    “You should be in jail, you bastard. Dead—you should be dead, lying in the desert, rotting. You should—”
    “I brought you five thousand dollars, to show good faith.” Powers pointed to the magazine lying on the floor. Was his forefinger trembling? Inside, in his guts, was this craven satrap cringing? Was it enough? Probing the depths of his own anger, Bernhardt drew a deep, tremulous breath—one breath, and another. Finally he spoke:
    “Take off those goddam glasses.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, Powers used both hands to remove the dark glasses.
    Yes, there was the proof of surrender: the furtive movement of the eyes, the uncertainty around the mouth.
    It was enough. For now, it was enough.
    “All right.” Bernhardt gestured, a rough flick of his hand. “Go ahead. Tell me what it’s all about.”
    “My—my employer. He wants to see you. Talk to you.”
    “I thought that might be it.”
    “Tomorrow morning. Ten-thirty.”
    “Where?”
    “At the same place you met before. Mr.—my employer—said you’d know where.” With an effort, Powers raised his head, looked inquiringly at Bernhardt, who merely nodded, a slight, contemptuous inclination of the head.
    “I’ve got you a hotel room and a car. A Lincoln.” Powers spoke indistinctly, without inflection. On the tiny round table between them, he still gripped the sunglasses with both hands. Now his naked gaze was fixed on the table.
    “What’s DuBois want to talk about?”
    Eyes still downcast, Powers shook his head. “I don’t know. I was just told to contact you, make the arrangements.”
    “You’re a fucking errand boy.”
    No reply. Yes, the surrender was complete.
    “When you put Willis Dodge on Betty’s trail, told him to kill her, were you just following orders then?”
    “Mr. Bernhardt—” Once more the frightened eyes begged. “Please. Let’s not—”
    “You don’t have to worry about me, Powers.” Bernhardt spoke bitterly. “I’m not wearing a wire. Because, you see, I’m on DuBois’s payroll, too. You didn’t know that, did you? You didn’t know we’re both infected by the same virus. It’s called greed.”
    “If you knew what really happened in the desert, you’d realize that I went there to stop it. Those were my orders. But I couldn’t locate Dodge in time,” Powers said.
    “First DuBois told you to have Betty killed. Then he changed his mind, and told you to stop it. Is that your story?”
    “I was there, that night in Borrego Springs. Would I have been there, if I hadn’t wanted to stop it? Would I—”
    “All right, forget about Borrego Springs. What’s this all about—this meeting tomorrow? What’s the purpose, errand boy?”
    “It—” In futility, perhaps desperation, the husk of a hollowed-out man, Powers slowly shook his head as he said, “It’s what I said. I don’t know why Mr.—my employer wants to see you. I only know he does.”
    “How much money did you make last year, Powers?”
    “I don’t see what—”
    “ How much? ”
    “Almost—almost a million. Maybe a little more.”
    “Are you happy in your work?” Bernhardt laced the question with all the contempt he could command.
    “You’re—you’re trying to humiliate me.”
    “That’s right, Justin. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. See, this is the first time I’ve ever faced someone who ordered my death. It’s a new experience for me. I’m amazed at the anger I’m feeling. I’m absolutely awed. If we were somewhere else—an alley—I’m sure I’d try to kill you with my bare hands. All this despite the fact that, since grammar school, I’ve never struck anyone in anger. And I—”
    “You killed Willis