Read Online Every Last Drop by Charlie Huston - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlie Huston
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Contemporary, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, Mystery Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Vampires, New York, New York (State), Occult & Supernatural, Manhattan (New York; N.Y.), Private Investigators - New York (State) - New York, Pitt; Joe (Fictitious Character)
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She's somewhat more efficient than I suspected. —And none got close enough to the girl to find shit. —No.
He looks up from the photo.
—But you have a history with her. She is fond of you. And Sela trusts you. —Lets not get carried away.
I look back at the City, letting him slide into darkness, outside my vision. —Once I'm back, once I do this, I won't pledge Coalition. —Don't be silly, we wouldn't have you. We will simply facilitate your return and offer securities against your life.
—You'll tell everyone to leave me the fuck alone or you'll have them killed. —Yes, just so.
So many goddamn lights. A whole world on a chunk of rock in the middle of
dark waters.
—I want the name of the one you still have inside.
—Why?
—So I can fucking pretend to find him on my own and hand him over to Sela
for execution. That way she'll know I'm on the up and up.
I hear a pen uncapped, smooth roll of expensive ink on stiff paper.
He offers me the photo, a name written on the back.
I take the photo, stuff it in my pocket, and look at him. —When do we go?
He smiles, shakes his head. —We do not go, Pitt. /go. You find your own way. After all.
He shrugs.
—It wouldn't look at all right if someone were to see me dropping you off at Eightieth and Lexington, would it? In addition, as unified as Clan intentions may be on this matter, trust is more than usually at issue. Ms. Horde has sympathizers at all levels. —Got spooks of her own? —Not as such. But certainly there are individuals within the Coalition, Society
and Hood who are quite willing to volunteer information to her in hopes it can help her to her ultimate goal. And more pragmatic others willing to offer similar information at a price. Thus, while Digga might be willing to allow you passage across Hood turf to the Coalition, I have chosen not to inform him of the operation. A truism of intelligence is that the more people who know about an operation, the more it is at risk. And we cannot risk Horde or Sela knowing that you and I are associated. Hood surveillance is not up to Coalition standards, naturally. I expect you'll have little or no trouble circumventing it. Much better for the sake of verisimilitude if you worm across the river yourself and pick your way with great caution to the girl. —There had to be a hitch in the deal somewhere.
I look down at my bloody clothes, my one remaining boot. —Do you think verisimilitude could suffer to the extent of a couple bucks so I can find some clothes that won't have people pointing at me and screaming for a cop?
He waves one of the enforcers over from the eastern corner of the roof. —Petty cash.
The enforcer takes an envelope from his side jacket pocket and drops it in one of the scummy puddles.
I look at Predo. —You rehearse that move in advance?
He shrugs. —Actually, not. This one has initiative.
I bend and pick up the envelope. —Charming quality, that.
He starts across the roof. —Don't take too long with your tailor, Pitt. Ill want a report soonest.
I flick stinking water from the envelope. —Yeah, get right on it. Chop, chop, and all that.
He pauses at the access door to the stairs.
—Do that. The line of those waiting to dismember you should you fail has grown rather long.
I take the money from the envelope. —Well it was never short.
He considers. —Yes, always a popular man.
I count the bills. —Speaking of popularity.
He waits.
I look up from the envelope.
—That Dickens fan you have working up here, the one with the Fagin fetish. Lament? —Yes.
I flip through the bills, making sure its not Monopoly money. —I'm gonna have to kill him.
He looks at his shoes, looks up.
—Complete the assignment, Pitt. After that, how you spend your political capital is your own concern. However, killing a Coalition resource could well nullify any other aspect of our deal.
I stuff the cash in my hip pocket.
—Well, seeing as I always assume you'll fuck me over in the end, that doesn't really change my
He looks up from the photo.
—But you have a history with her. She is fond of you. And Sela trusts you. —Lets not get carried away.
I look back at the City, letting him slide into darkness, outside my vision. —Once I'm back, once I do this, I won't pledge Coalition. —Don't be silly, we wouldn't have you. We will simply facilitate your return and offer securities against your life.
—You'll tell everyone to leave me the fuck alone or you'll have them killed. —Yes, just so.
So many goddamn lights. A whole world on a chunk of rock in the middle of
dark waters.
—I want the name of the one you still have inside.
—Why?
—So I can fucking pretend to find him on my own and hand him over to Sela
for execution. That way she'll know I'm on the up and up.
I hear a pen uncapped, smooth roll of expensive ink on stiff paper.
He offers me the photo, a name written on the back.
I take the photo, stuff it in my pocket, and look at him. —When do we go?
He smiles, shakes his head. —We do not go, Pitt. /go. You find your own way. After all.
He shrugs.
—It wouldn't look at all right if someone were to see me dropping you off at Eightieth and Lexington, would it? In addition, as unified as Clan intentions may be on this matter, trust is more than usually at issue. Ms. Horde has sympathizers at all levels. —Got spooks of her own? —Not as such. But certainly there are individuals within the Coalition, Society
and Hood who are quite willing to volunteer information to her in hopes it can help her to her ultimate goal. And more pragmatic others willing to offer similar information at a price. Thus, while Digga might be willing to allow you passage across Hood turf to the Coalition, I have chosen not to inform him of the operation. A truism of intelligence is that the more people who know about an operation, the more it is at risk. And we cannot risk Horde or Sela knowing that you and I are associated. Hood surveillance is not up to Coalition standards, naturally. I expect you'll have little or no trouble circumventing it. Much better for the sake of verisimilitude if you worm across the river yourself and pick your way with great caution to the girl. —There had to be a hitch in the deal somewhere.
I look down at my bloody clothes, my one remaining boot. —Do you think verisimilitude could suffer to the extent of a couple bucks so I can find some clothes that won't have people pointing at me and screaming for a cop?
He waves one of the enforcers over from the eastern corner of the roof. —Petty cash.
The enforcer takes an envelope from his side jacket pocket and drops it in one of the scummy puddles.
I look at Predo. —You rehearse that move in advance?
He shrugs. —Actually, not. This one has initiative.
I bend and pick up the envelope. —Charming quality, that.
He starts across the roof. —Don't take too long with your tailor, Pitt. Ill want a report soonest.
I flick stinking water from the envelope. —Yeah, get right on it. Chop, chop, and all that.
He pauses at the access door to the stairs.
—Do that. The line of those waiting to dismember you should you fail has grown rather long.
I take the money from the envelope. —Well it was never short.
He considers. —Yes, always a popular man.
I count the bills. —Speaking of popularity.
He waits.
I look up from the envelope.
—That Dickens fan you have working up here, the one with the Fagin fetish. Lament? —Yes.
I flip through the bills, making sure its not Monopoly money. —I'm gonna have to kill him.
He looks at his shoes, looks up.
—Complete the assignment, Pitt. After that, how you spend your political capital is your own concern. However, killing a Coalition resource could well nullify any other aspect of our deal.
I stuff the cash in my hip pocket.
—Well, seeing as I always assume you'll fuck me over in the end, that doesn't really change my
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