Parker 05 - The Darkness by Jason Pinter Read Free Book Online Page B

here?"
    "It's my fourth day," Edgar replied.
    "Really," Jack said. His voice was modulated to feign
    interest, but I could tell that bothered him. "Who else
    works this shift?"
    "Nobody anymore. Building manager called the agency
    that was looking to place me, said they needed a new
    morning man five days a week, Monday through Friday.
    They didn't tell me about the last guy, but this is a full-time
    job. Thank God, because in this economy heaven knows
    my savings and 401k aren't worth squat anymore."
    "Thanks, Edgar," Jack said. "Come on, Henry." He
    didn't say my name like we were partners, but like I was
    his subordinate.
    As we left the building, I said to Jack, "Next time
    The Darkness
    53
    you're going to do the good cop, bad cop shtick, how
    about letting me know ahead of time that I'm going to be
    the bad cop?"
    Jack shook his head. "This is about the story, Henry.
    Not your pride or your feelings. If I need you to be my
    patsy to get someone to open up, that's just what I'll do.
    And I'd expect you to do the same with me if the situation called for it. In fact, if you didn't, I'd wonder why I
    was letting you tag along in the first place."
    "Tag along? This is my sto..." I stopped talking. This
    wouldn't get us anywhere. "I can tell what you're thinking."
    Jack nodded. "Whoever did work here packed up and
    left faster than my second wife left with my collection of
    antique pens."
    "You think it's because of Tsang?" I asked.
    "No way. At least not entirely. Tsang was killed
    yesterday. Edgar started a few days ago. If Tsang was
    connected to 718 Enterprises--and ipso facto your
    brother--they were long gone before they crushed his
    bones into oatmeal."
    I don't know what we should have expected to find,
    but I guarantee it wasn't nothing. Not the nothing as in
    "well, we got there but didn't quite find what we were
    looking for." There was no trace of 718 Enterprises whatsoever. It was simply gone.
    And as Jack and I stood there in the morning sunlight,
    I couldn't help but think about the hundreds of people
    who went about their day oblivious to this. Who'd walked
    by this building for perhaps years, unaware that it was a
    drug refueling station. And that all of a sudden whatever
    had been there had suddenly been packed up and shipped
    off as quickly and as easily as a parcel.
    "Back to the office," Jack said. "We're not going to
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    Jason Pinter
    learn anything standing on the corner waiting for melanoma to sink in."
    His hands were on his hips, a look on his face that
    showed he was pissed off but wouldn't stop here. I'd
    never seen Jack work, unless you counted watching him
    hunched over a keyboard sipping coffee that smelled suspiciously like something you'd find on tap at an Irish pub.
    I had the same gene. The "hell if I'll stop now" gene.
    I smiled inwardly as Jack ran into the street to hail a cab,
    moving like a man half his age. Not only did he have a
    story to chase, but after months spent away from the game,
    this was the closest he'd been to fresh meat in a long time.
    "There has to be a building manager," I said. "A corporation who cashes the lease payments."
    "Great minds, Henry. Great minds." He told the driver
    to take us back to Rockefeller Plaza. I felt my cell phone
    vibrate, picked it up, saw Amanda had left me a text
    message. I opened the mail. It read, Luv u. I smiled. Sent
    her one back that read, u 2 babe.
    Then just before I closed the phone, I saw that I had
    another unopened text. This one was from Curt Sheffield.
    It read: News out about Ken Tsang's murder. Undercover cops say dealers are scared shitless, holing up.
    Informants running like roaches.
    And the text ended with one line that gave me chills.
    Message delivered.
    7
    Morgan Isaacs didn't want to wake up. He was lying in
    bed, forcing his eyelids closed, even though a few quick
    peeks told him it was after ten o'clock and the day had
    started without him. Again.
    It had been just a week since Morgan had met with the
    real estate