Persuader

and your mother and the cook.
    So you need to be ready. For if and when I tell you to go."
    "Who are you?"
    "I'm a guy paid to protect your father. From his so-called friends, as much as his enemies."
    "Paulie won't let us through the gate."
    "He'll be gone soon." He shook his head.
    "Paulie will kill you," he said. "You have no idea. You can't deal with Paulie, whoever you are. Nobody can."
    "I dealt with those guys outside the college." He shook his head again. His hair streamed in the wind. It reminded me of the maid's hair, under the water.
    "That was phony," he said. "My mom and I discussed it. It was a setup." I was quiet for a second. Did I trust him yet? "No, it was for real," I said. No, I didn't trust him yet.
    "It's a small community," he said. "They have about five cops. I never saw that guy before in my life." I said nothing.
    "I never saw those college cops either," he said. "And I was there nearly three full years." I said nothing. Mistakes, coming back to haunt me.
    "So why did you quit school?" I said. "If it was a setup?" He didn't answer.
    "And how come Duke and I were ambushed?" He didn't answer.
    "So what was it?" I said. "A setup or for real?" He shrugged. "I don't know."
    "You saw me shoot them all," I said.
    He said nothing. I looked away. The seventh wave came rolling in. It crested forty yards out and hit the rocks faster than a man can run. The ground shuddered and spray burst upward like a star shell.
    "Did either of you discuss this with your father?" I said.
    "I didn't," he said. "And I'm not going to. I don't know about my mom." And I don't know about you, I thought. Ambivalence works both ways. You blow hot, then you blow cold. The thought of his father in a prison cell might look pretty good to him right now. Later, it might look different. When push came to shove, this guy was capable of swinging either way.
    "I saved your ass," I said. "I don't like it that you're pretending I didn't."
    "Whatever," he said. "There's nothing you can do anyway. This is going to be a busy weekend. You've got the shipment to deal with. And after that you'll be one of them anyway."
    "So help me out," I said.
    "I won't double-cross my dad," he said.
    Very loyal. Best buddies.
    "You don't have to," I said.
    "So how can I help you?"
    "Just tell him you want me here. Tell him you shouldn't be alone right now. He listens to you, about stuff like that." He didn't reply. Just walked away from me and headed back to the kitchen. He went straight through to the hallway. I guessed he was going to eat breakfast in the dining room. I stayed in the kitchen. The cook had set my place at the deal table. I wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to eat. Tiredness and hunger are bad enemies. I had slept, and now I was going to eat. I didn't want to wind up weak and light-headed at the wrong moment. I had toast, and another cup of coffee. Then I got more into it and had eggs and bacon. I was on my third cup of coffee when Beck came in to find me. He was wearing Saturday clothes. Blue jeans and a red flannel shirt.
    "We're going to Portland," he said. "To the warehouse. Right now." He went back out to the hallway. I guessed he would wait at the front. And I guessed Richard hadn't talked to him. Either he hadn't gotten a chance, or he hadn't wanted to. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Checked my pockets to make sure the Beretta was safely stowed and the keys were there. Then I walked out and fetched the car.
    Drove it around to the front. Beck was waiting there for me. He had put a canvas jacket over his shirt. He looked like a regular Maine guy heading out to split logs or tap his maple trees for syrup. But he wasn't.
    Paulie was about ready with the gate so I had to slow but I didn't have to stop. I glanced at him as I passed. I figured he would die today. Or tomorrow. Or I would. I left him behind and gunned the big car along the familiar road. After a mile I passed the spot where Villanueva had parked. Four miles after that I rounded the narrow curve where I had trapped the bodyguards. Beck didn't speak. He had his knees apart with his hands held down between them. He was leaning forward in his seat. His head was down, but his eyes were up. He was staring straight ahead through the windshield. He was nervous.
    "We never had our talk," I said. "About the background information."
    "Later," he said.
    I passed Route One and used I-95 instead. Headed north for the city. The sky stayed gray.
    The wind was strong enough to