Paradime by Alan Glynn Read Free Book Online Page B

I’m saying.’ He pauses again, as though searching for a better way to explain himself. ‘At the end of the day, it’s not anything you need to be concerned with. It’s nit-picky lawyer stuff that affects us , potentially, but if I can give Artie the assurance that you’re a disinterested party, just some guy trying to get on with his life, then . . . I think we can all relax. Artie cuts a cheque. You tear that letter up. Everyone’s happy.’
    There are several things I could say to this, questions I could ask, remarks I could make, but I think we’ve reached the endgame. Coover has made his offer. There’s really nothing more to discuss.
    I look at him and nod. ‘Okay.’
    He nods back and gently taps the edge of the table. ‘Good.’
    If this was a negotiation, then I’ve actually come out of it with more than I was looking for going in. Which feels good. But also feels too good to be true. In any case, at this point Coover reverts right back to his earlier, chattier mode and starts asking me questions – Iraq, Asheville, the old man – so that by the time we’re finishing our drinks and getting up to leave, he’s morphed into my best bud. He even half apologises for the whole mess and says, you know, the way these corporate types think they can just trample over people is actually sickening. On our way out, he quizzes me about work – what kind of job I’m looking for, what I’m good at. And even though I can’t help feeling that he must know most of this stuff already, I tell him anyway.
    ‘You know what,’ he says, when we’re out on the street, ‘leave it with me, will you? I’m friends with a lot of people in this town, and if I can’t scare something up then what am I good for, right?’
    Again, there’s nothing to argue with here.
    He extends his hand and we shake.
    ‘Are you all set?’ he says, looking around. ‘You want me to call a car for you?’
    ‘No, no, I’m fine, thanks.’
    ‘Okay, well, I guess I’m done for the day. I’ll talk to you soon, Danny.’
    And with that he takes off.
    It’s just after five o’clock, and Third Avenue is hopping, offices everywhere letting out, the sidewalk a torrent of humanity. The afternoon has clouded over too, and the air has a dark, strangely oppressive feel to it.
    I walk to the next corner, and stop at the kerb. As I wait for the light to change, I glance over my shoulder and across the street. Despite the traffic and the crowds on the other side, I catch a glimpse of Phil Coover slipping back in through the revolving doors of the Wolper & Stone Building.
    *
    My mind is in knots as I walk home, and for good reason, but it’s only as I arrive at the door to our apartment that I understand why.
    I’m going to end up lying to Kate – and hating myself for it.
    Of course, what makes it a little easier – at first – is that she’s pissed at me. Did I go to the meeting? Why didn’t I answer her texts? What is the fucking point of having a cellphone?
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I tell her, ‘I just wanted to get it over with.’
    She stands there, waiting for more, looking over her glasses at me. ‘Well?’
    The version I give her is accurate as far as it goes, but I leave stuff out – like the fact that I have been, and presumably still am, under surveillance. I don’t tell her that my overall impression of the meeting is that Phil Coover pretty much played me like a fiddle. Which is another thing. I don’t actually mention Phil Coover by name. What I tell her is that Arthur Galansky was tied up and I spoke to some other guy. I try to focus on the positives. They’re going to release my last cheque. They might drop the GO-1C charge.
    ‘I’m confused,’ she says. ‘What changed their minds? How did you convince them?’
    This is a reasonable question but what do I tell her? ‘I made a case, I guess. I told them it had nothing to do with me .’
    ‘As in—’
    ‘As in the thing . What happened over there.’ I clear my throat.