Free Death in High Places by Jo Bannister Page B

but hadn’t decided yet what it was worth. Finally he said, “I don’t want anything just now. But I’m going to want something. Maybe five years from now, maybe fifteen. Before you leave, I want your word that you’ll come back when I need you to and do what I need you to do.”
    So this was it, thought Horn, his mind spinning, the point at which the bill was presented. He’d known no one acted as McKendrick had from sheer altruism—and in his admittedly limited experience, rich men were less inclined to altruism than others. It was how they became rich. McKendrick had saved Horn’s sorry skin only because he had a use for it. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if deep in the core of him he’d dared to hope someone had found him worth helping for his own sake. Now he knew better. He shouldn’t have been disappointed but he was. Being in the gutter makes it easy for people to kick you in the face. It doesn’t make it compulsory, and it doesn’t make it any less painful.
    â€œAll right,” he growled, trying to hide the hurt, “what is it you want me to do?”
    â€œPromise you’ll do it.”
    Horn raised an eyebrow. “Without knowing what it is?”
    â€œI saved your life,” McKendrick reminded him. He was looking at the younger man as a cat looks at a baby bird, half hungry and half amused. “Can you think of anything that would be too high a price?”
    Horn didn’t have to think for long. “I won’t hurt anyone for you.”
    â€œOkay,” said McKendrick slowly. Almost as if that might present a problem. “And if there’s no victim? If it’s a win/win situation where everyone gets what they want?”
    â€œGive me a for instance.”
    McKendrick shook his head. “Give me your word.”
    â€œNot without knowing what I’m signing up for. I might be stupid, but I’m not that stupid.”
    McKendrick smiled haughtily. “You owe me. You owe me anything I care to ask of you.”
    â€œThen ask.”
    â€œI’m asking for your word.”
    â€œAnd I’m wondering what it is you want that’s so obscene you daren’t even name it.”
    McKendrick backed off with a sudden grin. As if it was a game of chess they were playing, and he could appreciate a smart move even when it put him at a disadvantage. “Fair enough. If I wanted a gofer I could hire one; if I wanted a personal favor, you’d expect me to ask my daughter. Clearly there’s a downside.
    â€œWhat you’ll have to do isn’t legal. If you’re caught doing it, you could go to prison. A couple of years, maybe. Maybe not even that—you could get away with a suspended sentence. Even better, you may not be caught. You’re used to staying ahead of the hunt. It wouldn’t materially alter your lifestyle to be avoiding the police as well as Tommy Hanratty. I won’t put Beth in that position because it would destroy hers.”
    Beth was still looking between the two of them as if she had no more idea what this was about than Horn had. “Mack? You think the two of us should have a quiet word on our own?”
    McKendrick rejected that. “There’s nothing to discuss. This doesn’t concern you.”
    Her voice and her eyebrows climbed in tandem. “You reckon? If he’s right, there’s a hired killer on his way here. I could die today because you brought Anarchy Horn to Birkholmstead instead of leaving him to pay for what he did. If you think you’re cutting me out of the loop on this, think again.”
    For the first time in minutes McKendrick dragged his gaze away from Nicky Horn’s bruised and bewildered face and looked at his daughter. “Sorry, Beth, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. Fate, providence, call it what you will, has presented me with an opportunity I can use—someone to do something for me