Authors: John R. Maxim
From time to time, certain of these family trees needed
pruning. Sometimes whole branches of them. But, as often,
they were useful, if only to prune each other.
“
It is the innocent
,”
his father was saying,
“
who
need
.
.
.
and deserve
.
.
our protection most of all
.”
Ah! Now we were getting to it.
“
If
H
ickey brings us down, he could bring them dow
n
as well. All of them. No matter how innocent, no matter
how blameless, they would be publicly humiliated
,
hounded
by the
...
”
“
Father, I understand. Hickey must go. For the sake of
the innocent
.”
The older man's face showed mild annoyance. He
searched his son's eyes for a sign of the sarcasm he
thought he'd detected. He chose to believe that he saw
none. Only an impatience to get on with the unpleasan
t
duty that had been forced on them both.
“
Use reliable people
,”
he said.
“
Not anyone on staff
.”
“
Of course
.”
”
I will see to Henry myself. He knows that you've
never liked him
.”
“
That's decent of you, Father
.”
By all means,
he
thought.
Mus
tn't
let Henry die sensing a lack of affection.
“
What are your plans for the Streichers? More impor
tant, how will you get those files back
?”
“
That
...
is a difficult issue
.”
He explained to his father that the fax number to which
they had been sent had been traced. It was the number of
a message service in Los Angeles. Ruiz had gone there
this morning, before dawn. The machine at the message service had a relay function. It was set to route any transmissions from St
r
eicher to a second number. The machine
printed out that number. It was in New Mexico, Santa Fe
specifically, where, as Alan Weinberg, Streicher now has
a house. Ruiz is on her way there now, he said, but he doubts very much that she will return with the files.
“
Why is that
?”
asked Ca
r
leton the elder.
“
Because it's too easy. The second machine is some
where within Streicher
’s
Santa Fe exchange but it is un
likely t
o
be in his house. Even if she finds it, it seems too much to hope that she'll find a hundred feet of fax paper
dangling from it
.”
“
She might find more than that. Knowing Streicher, that machine is likely to be booby-trapped
.”
Young Carleton blinked. He had not considered that.
“
You think Streicher lied about having a confederate
on the other end
?”
“
It seemed a bit pat, yes. There wasn't much point in
coming to Sur La Mer in the first place if he hadn't broken
off all contact with his past. Furthermore, Ruiz saw Bonnie
Streicher
’
s eyes when she saw his cover note asking for
my death in retaliation for his. She is sure that she saw
confusion in them. If so, either she knew nothing
of an
assassin sitting on the other end, which seems unlikely, or
her husband was making it up as he wrote it
.”
Carleton the elder pursed his lips.
“
And yet he sent
the documents. Are there machines that will hold them?
Unp
ri
nted, I mean
?”
“
Yes. Until a code is punched in
.”
The older man raised an eyebrow.
“
So, if Luisa does
not return
,”
he said,
“
we'll know that she found the ma
chine and that the transmitted documents have probably been destroyed
.”
Young Carleton said nothing. He tried not to show
his anger.
A small loss,
thought the father. Ruiz. A disgusting
creature really. Even if she did try to stop Henry from
using the Benedict girl it was probably out of jealousy.
“
We have no one else
,”
he asked,
“
who can trace that
machine to its location
?”
“W
e do. The
y'
re working on it. Streicher would expect
no less. But there's still the matter of a booby trap. The
point was to
know
that those files were destroyed unseen.
Probably
will not do. We cannot act on
probably
.”
“
Then what do you suggest
?”
“
Streicher has promised that he will abide by his contract in every particular. There's no question that he's tired
of being hunted, for his wife's sake if not for his own. The only reason he did all this was out of concern that
we would exact vengeance for Henry
.”
His father's hand made a flitting gesture.
“
Like it or not
,”
young Carleton continued,
“
short of
finding that machine and standing there as it prints out
those files to no eyes but our own, our hands are tied. My
suggestion, failing that, is that we take him at his word
.”
“
That is unacceptable
.”
“
Why
?”
The son spread his palms.
“
There's no risk
to us. The only risk is to those whose profiles he has and only then if he tries to blackmail them. If he doesn't, none
of our clients will ever know they've been compromised.
If he does, no place on earth will be safe for him
.”
Carleton the elder scowled.
“
Just chalk it off, you say.
Go merrily on with our lives
.”
“
Father, if you have an alternative
.
.
.
”
“
Have you considered making him talk? Telling where
that machine is? How to disarm it? Whether, in fact, any
one else has seen those files
?”
“
Yes, I have
.”
“
And
?”
“
It crossed my mind to drug them. But they only eat
what the members eat. We'd have to drug them all and it
would probably kill half of them
.”
“
What about during surgery? Is any more scheduled
?”
The younger man shook his head.
“
Their bandages
come off tomorrow. It's possible that Streicher will need
more work on that eye but he will not, in any case, accept
general anesthesia. Even if he would, his wife would be
standing beside the table with an automatic weapon
.”
“
You could
.
.
.
lull her. Overpower her
.”
Ca
r
leton the younger made a face.
“
That's Bonnie
Streicher, Father. She does
not lull
”
The older man rose to his feet. He began pacing. O
n
a sudden impulse, he stepped to the door and opened it,
half-expecting to see Joseph
Hickey's
ear pressed against
it. He did not. H
i
ckey stood some fifty feet away, his back
to him, smoking a cigarette near the main entrance. A
security guard, the one who still limped, sat at a small
desk in between. Hickey could not have listened. Hickey
turned. Carleton the elder smiled and hel
d
up one finger. He closed the door.
“
How soon can you see to him
?”
he asked his son.
“
This evening, if all goes well. I'll use
Marek's
people
.”
“
Have you considered that he might have left a diary,
a tape recording
.
.
.
that sort of thing
?”
Carleton the younger understood. Insurance. He shook
his head.
“
That seldom happens in real life, Father
,”
he
said.
“
The risk of premature discovery is as great as any
deterrent value. Nor is there any point to a deterrent unless
he's told us it exists
.”
“
Let's hope
,”
his father sniffed,
“
that Mr. Hickey
shares your
.
.
.
”
”I will see to it
,”
he said, biting off the words.
“
There
will be a search. I will deal with this
.”
His father, less than reassured, reached for a change of
subject.
“
This business about Nellie
,”
he said.
“
Is there
anything to it
?”
“
That she can talk
?”
he shook his head.
“
It's hard to
imagine that she kept silent for sixty years just to have a
chat with the St
r
eiche
r
s or with some college student who
sneaked onto the grounds
.”
“
How else could St
r
eicher have known about the
files
?”
“
He said he didn't. He feared for his safety after
.
.
.
Henry. He said he was looking for anything at all that might give him some leverage
.”
“
And you believed him
?”
Ca
r
leton th
e
younger could no longer mask his annoy
ance.
“
Does it make more sense to believe
,”
he snapped,
“
that Nellie Da
m
eon, of all people, knew the contents of
my safe and gave it to the first person who seemed to
enjoy her movies
?”
The father raised a placating hand. He tended to agree.
Still
.
.
.
“
I'd like to talk to him. Where is he now
?”
“
In Nellie's suite
.”
“
Will he let me enter
?”
The younger man shrugged.
“
With a gun at your chest.
What do you hope to accomplish
?”
Carleton the elder did not answer. He stepped behind
his son's desk, formerly his own, and reached into the
coat cabinet where the weapons were kept. He selected a
large revolver, nickel plated, which he presumed to be of
higher quality than the others. He took a small black one
as well.
“
You can't be serious
,”
his son said, rising.
Carleton the elder understood. He smiled.
“
Hardly that
,”
he said.
“
Then what's the gun for
?”
The smile faded.
“
First
,”
he said,
“
it's time to say good-bye to Henry
.”