Persuader

open. There was an immediate right-angle turn to the left. It led to a small open area filled with desks and file cabinets. There were no people in it. None of the desks was occupied. But they had been until very recently. That was clear. They were part of a working office. There were three of them and they were covered with the kind of stuff people leave behind at the end of the day. Half-finished paperwork, rinsed coffee cups, notes to themselves, souvenir mugs filled with pencils, packs of tissues. There were electric heaters on the walls and the air was very warm and it smelled faintly of perfume.
    At the back of the open area was a closed door with low voices behind it. I recognized Beck's, and Duke's. They were talking with a third man, who I guessed was the guy with the tracking equipment. I couldn't make out what they were saying. Couldn't make out the tone. There was some urgency there. Some debate. No raised voices, but they weren't discussing the company picnic.
    I looked at the stuff on the desks and the walls. There were two maps pinned up on boards. One showed the whole world. The Black Sea was more or less in the exact center.
    Odessa was nestling there to the left of the Crimean Peninsula. There was nothing marked on the paper but I could trace the route a little tramp steamer would take, through the Bosphorus, through the Aegean Sea, through the Mediterranean, out past Gibraltar, and then full steam across the Atlantic to Portland, Maine. A two-week voyage, probably.
    Maybe three. Most ships are pretty slow.
    The other map showed the United States. Portland itself was obliterated by a worn and greasy stain. I guessed people had put their fingertips on it to span their hands and calculate time and distance. A small person's hand fully extended might represent a day's driving. In which case Portland wasn't the best location for a distribution center. It was a long way from everywhere else.
    The papers on the desks were incomprehensible to me. At best I could just about interpret details about dates and loads. I saw some prices listed. Some were high, some were low.
    Opposite the prices were codes for something. They could have been for rugs. They could have been for something else. But on the surface the whole place looked exactly like an innocent shipping office. I wondered if Teresa Daniel had worked in it.
    I listened to the voices some more. Now I was hearing anger and worry. I backed out to the corridor. Took the Glock out of my waistband and put it in my pocket with my finger inside the trigger guard. A Glock doesn't have a safety catch. It has a sort of trigger on the trigger. It's a tiny bar that latches back as you squeeze. I put a little pressure on it. Felt it give. I wanted to be ready. I figured I would shoot Duke first. Then the guy with the radio. Then Beck. Beck was probably the slowest and you always leave the slowest for last.
    I put my other hand in my pocket, too. A guy with one hand in his pocket looks armed and dangerous. A guy with both hands in his pockets looks relaxed and lazy. No threat. I took a breath and walked back into the room, noisily.
    "Hello?" I called.
    The back office door opened up fast. The three of them crowded together to look out.
    Beck, Duke, the new guy. No guns.
    "How did you get in here?" Duke asked. He looked tired.
    "Door was open," I said.
    "How did you know which door?" Beck asked.
    I kept my hands in my pockets. I couldn't say I had seen the painted sign, because it was Duffy who had told me the name of his operation, not him.
    "Your car's parked outside," I said.
    He nodded.
    "OK," he said.
    He didn't ask about my day. The new guy with the scanner must have described it already. Now he was just standing there, looking straight at me. He was younger than Beck. Younger than Duke. Younger than me. He was maybe thirty-five. He still looked dangerous. He had flat cheekbones and dull eyes. He was like a hundred bad guys I had busted in the army.
    "Enjoy the drive?" I asked him.
    He didn't answer.
    "I saw you bring the scanner in," I said. "I found the first bug. Under the seat."
    "Why did you look?" he asked.
    "Habit," I said. "Where was the second?"
    "In the back," he said. "You didn't stop for lunch."
    "No money," I said. "Nobody gave me any yet." The guy didn't smile.
    "Welcome to Maine," he said. "Nobody gives you money here. You earn it."
    "OK," I said.
    "I'm Angel Doll," he said, like he was expecting his name to impress me. But it didn't.
    "I'm Jack