The Detachment

hand. In his right, he held the Glock.
    They came in and he locked the door behind them. They glanced around the room and at the open bathroom door. Treven braced himself.
    “Where’s the girl?” Larison said.
    “With Dox,” Treven said.
    “Oh, shit,” Rain said, putting his fingers to his temples like a man struggling with a migraine. “I knew this was going to happen.”
    “Knew what was going to happen?” Larison said. He turned to Treven. “Where are they?”
    Rain said, “He took her, didn’t he?”
    Treven nodded.
    Larison’s face darkened. “Took her? What the fuck is going on?”
    Treven looked at Larison. “I’ll tell you the truth. He thought you were going to come back here and kill her. And you know what? I agreed with him.”
    “What if I was?” Larison said. “Hort was supposed to call off the dogs. Instead, he neutered himself. He broke the deal. That means he pays the price.”
    “Are the diamonds real?” Treven said.
    Rain nodded. “They’re real.”
    “Good,” Treven said, still looking at Larison. “That’s more than enough. We’re not going to kill some innocent girl because of your grudge against her father. I don’t care what you call it. That’s what it is.”
    Rain said, “All right, let’s be practical for a minute. We can all kill each other afterward, if we still want to. What did you work out with Dox?”
    “I’m supposed to call him when you two are back,” Treven said. “And then the four of us are supposed to meet at some café you like in Beverly Hills.”
    “Shit,” Rain said, “we just came from Beverly Hills. What café? Urth?”
    “That’s the one. The guy is pretty particular about his food.”
    “He has one of the cell phones?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right, call him. But best to use a payphone. No sense blowing more than one of the phones.”
    “You want me to change the location?”
    “No, I don’t want to say anything about where we’re meeting on an open line. Urth is fine. We paid up for the room?”
    “We’re paid up.”
    “What’s Dox driving?”
    “The Honda I boosted.”
    “Then the truck’s still here?”
    Treven nodded his head toward the bed stand. “Keys are right there.”
    “All right. There’s a payphone on the northwest corner of Lincoln and Pico. Call Dox, tell him we’ll meet him as planned as soon as we can.”
    “Where’s my gun?” Larison said.
    “Top dresser drawer,” Treven said. “Yours and his.” He waited a moment, but Larison didn’t move for the dresser. That was good. If he had, Treven was going to shoot him right then and there. He wondered if Larison understood that.
    “We’ll pull the truck around in about fifteen minutes,” Rain said. He seemed to know exactly what was going on, and Treven wondered what he had planned. Talk to Larison? Kill him? He couldn’t read Rain much better than he could read Larison.
    Whichever it was, he hoped Rain knew what he was doing. He nodded and went out.

L arison wanted to go to the dresser and get the Glock. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do with it, but he felt so outplayed and so boxed in that he just needed to be holding a weapon. It was like this sometimes when he woke from one of the dreams, arms shaking and heart hammering and torso slicked with sweat, and the only thing that could bring him down was the feel of a weapon in one hand and solid objects, totems of the waking world, under the other. But Rain was standing between him and the dresser, and he didn’t know what Rain would do if he made a move. Would Rain try to stop him? Larison had sixty pounds on the man, maybe more, but he’d watched Rain take out those contractors in Tokyo and they were even bigger than Larison. Anyway, even if he could beat Rain hand-to-hand, there wouldn’t be much value to reaching the gun if he got to it with a broken arm, or worse. He decided the safer course was to stand down, for now.
    Rain was watching him, and Larison had the sense the man knew exactly what he was thinking.
    “Well?” Rain said. “What are we going to do?”
    “What do you mean?” he said, telling himself he was playing for time.
    “What would you say if I told you about a four-man team, three of whom independently came to the same conclusion about the fourth member?”
    Larison didn’t answer.
    “In case I’m not being clear,” Rain went on, “the conclusion I’m referring to is that you were going to come back here and punch that girl’s ticket.”
    “So