The Old Turk's Load by Gregory Gibson Read Free Book Online

memory was fairly well tapped out. He couldn’t remember who Jurgen Kramer was.
    Mundi Enterprises was on the thirtieth floor of the Tishman Building, the new one on Fifth Avenue, all glass and aluminum, with the big 666 lit up in red numbers on the top floor at night. On the doorway to the office suite it said me in gold leaf. Kelly wasn’t rushing to judgment, but maybe Richard Mundi did make his money doing the devil’s work.The man’s clipped directness suggested loan-sharking, extortion, numbers, drugs, and prostitution. He could have been a made guy except that no Mafioso would ever hire a private dick. Kelly sat in one of the heavy leather office chairs, hat in his lap. Mundi stood like a fireplug in front of his desk.
“Who’s Jurgen Kramer?”
    Manhattan played an endless Warhol movie through the immense office windows. Mundi opened a file of papers, which, except for a telephone and an ashtray, was the only object marring the blank perfection of the vast mahogany surface of his desk. He extracted a business card from the file and handed it across. It was Kelly’s card, with a name and phone number written on the back of it.
    “Kramer works for a West German construction cartel. They wanted to get something going over here and they were looking at my company as a way in. Kramer was their rep. Apparently you hauled his ass out of a difficult situation.”
    Past tense.The deal must’ve fallen through. Remembering the German made Kelly’s ankle throb.
“Kramer needs a brain, Mr. Mundi, not a PI.”
“Forget about him. He told me about you, is all, when I inquired about his broken nose. Said you could handle yourself. As it happened I needed to hire someone and he gave me your card.”
Kelly eyed the file. “Everyone’s got needs. What are yours, exactly?”
“I’m concerned about my daughter.” He paused, looked at the ceiling. This was difficult for him. “Worried about her future.”
Kelly didn’t say anything. He extended his feet and leaned back in the chair. His hat was in his lap and his hands were clasped over his belly. He was going to wait until Mundi cut the shit. If that didn’t happen, he was going to say he didn’t think he could help and walk toward the door.
Mundi got the message right away.“All right. Here’s the deal. My daughter’s been running around with a creep named Kevin Gallagher. I don’t know who the fuck he thinks he is, but he’s trouble. Some kinda Communist, or revolutionary, supposedly. A bad influence.”
“I’m not a leg-breaker, Mr. Mundi.”
“Oh yes, you are. But that’s not the issue here. I just want you to tail Gallagher and my daughter. I want to know what they’re up to.”
“Him or your daughter?”
“Him. But as near as I can tell she’s with him all the time.”
“So I spy on your daughter and her boyfriend. Where does that get us?”
“Well, he’s some kind of professional agitator. Already been arrested a couple of times. I’m sure the Feds’d love to put him away.”
Kelly looked through the glass wall behind Mundi, where the north tower of the World Trade Center was clawing the sky like Ronan emerging from his egg.“You’ve got a big operation here, Mr. Mundi. Don’t you have people who could take care of this for you?”
Mundi shook his head. “I’ve got the best. But this’ll tell you something about my daughter. A few years ago, the summer after she graduated college, she was doing some kinda poverty program down south. And I sent my guys down to keep an eye on her, and all that happened was, she made them right away. And they came back and said, ‘Boss, this is a waste of time. Your daughter don’t need us.’” He began fidgeting with the file. “That’s the kind of kid she is, see? Smart. Independent.”
“Only child?”
“Yeah, why?”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Don’t you think she’s old enough to make her own bad decisions?”
“You don’t understand. She’s going to be running this company