Persuader

one nearer me nodded.
    "Paul Keast," he said.
    "Chris Maden," his partner said.
    "I need to move your truck, Paul," I said.
    "Why?"
    "Because it's in the way." The guy just looked at me. "You told me to put it there."
    "I didn't tell you to leave it there." He shrugged and rooted around on a counter and came up with his keys.
    "Whatever," he said.
    I took the keys and went outside and checked the back of the truck. It was fitted out with metal racks on either side. For trays of food. There was a narrow aisle running down the center. No windows. It would do. I left the rear doors open and slid into the driver's seat and fired it up. Backed it out to the carriage circle and turned it around and reversed it back to the kitchen door. Now it was facing the right way. I killed the motor but left the keys in it. Went back inside the kitchen. The metal detector beeped.
    "What are they eating?" I asked.
    "Lamb kebabs," Maden said. "With rice and couscous and humus. Stuffed grape leaves to start. Baklava for dessert. With coffee."
    "That's Libyan?"
    "It's generic," he said. "They eat it everywhere."
    "I used to get that for a dollar," I said. "You're charging fifty-five."
    "Where? In Portland ?"
    "In Beirut," I said.
    I stepped out and checked the hallway. All quiet. I opened the basement door. Teresa Daniel was waiting right there, like an automaton. I held out my hand.
    "Let's go," I said.
    She stepped out. I closed the door behind her. Walked her into the kitchen. Keast and Maden stared at her. I ignored them and walked her through. Out through the door. Over to the truck. She shivered in the cold. I helped her climb into the back.
    "Wait there for me now," I said. "Very quiet, OK?" She nodded and said nothing.
    "I'm going to close the doors on you," I said.
    She nodded again.
    "I'll get you out of there soon," I said.
    "Thank you," she said.
    I closed the doors on her and went back to the kitchen. Stood still and listened. I could hear talking from the dining room. It all sounded reasonably social.
    "When do they eat?" I said.
    "Twenty minutes," Maden said. "When they're through with the drinks. There was champagne included in the fifty-five dollars, you know."
    "OK," I said. "Don't take offense." I checked my watch. Forty-five minutes gone. Fifteen minutes to go.
    Show time.
    I went back outside into the cold. Slipped into the food truck and fired it up. Eased it forward, slowly around the corner of the house, slowly around the carriage circle, slowly down the driveway. Away from the house. Through the gate. Onto the road. I hit the gas.
    Took the curves fast. Jammed to a stop level with Villanueva's Taurus. Jumped out.
    Villanueva and Duffy were instantly out to meet me.
    "Teresa's in the back," I said. "She's OK but she's all doped up." Duffy pumped her fists and jumped on me and hugged me hard and Villanueva wrenched open the doors. Teresa fell into his arms. He lifted her down like a child. Then Duffy grabbed her away from him and he took a turn hugging me.
    "You should take her to the hospital," I said.
    "We'll take her to the motel," Duffy said. "We're still off the books."
    "You sure?"
    "She'll be OK," Villanueva said. "Looks like they gave her roofies. Probably from their dope-dealer pals. But they don't last long. They flush out fast." Duffy was hugging Teresa like a sister. Villanueva was still hugging me.
    "Eliot's dead," I said.
    That put a real damper on the mood.
    "Call ATF from the motel," I said. "If I don't call you first." They just looked at me.
    "I'm going back now," I said.
    I turned the truck around and headed back. I could see the house ahead of me. The windows were lit up yellow. The wall lights flared blue in the mist. The truck fought the wind. Plan B, I decided. Quinn was mine, but the others could be ATF's headache.
    I stopped on the far side of the carriage circle and reversed down the side of the house.
    Stopped outside the kitchen. Got out and walked around the back of the house and found my coat. Unwrapped the Persuaders. Put my coat on. I needed it. It was a cold night and I would be on the road again in about five minutes.
    I stepped across to the dining room windows to check inside. They had closed the drapes.
    Makes sense, I thought. It was a wild blustery night. The dining room would look better with closed drapes. Cozier. Oriental rugs on the floor, wood paneling, silver on the linen tablecloth.
    I picked up the Persuaders and walked back to the kitchen. The metal detector