The Infiltrators (7 page)

A thin man looked in horror at the team
of assassins, his right hand still clutching the telescope with
which he had been peering down into the street just moments
earlier.

Two other bodyguards were in the room,
but his agents took them out before he even had time to register
their presence. A few stifled screams echoed down the hallway, and
then he turned to the now petrified man still clutching the
telescope.

Taking a chair next to Lefty, Zelven
said, “Please, sit. You’re in no danger. Quite the contrary,
tonight your life has taken a lucky turn.”

The petrified man stood still, but as
it appeared to be from fear rather than defiance, Zelven told him
amiably, “Sir, please do as your bid.”

The man glanced quickly at Lefty, and
while he seemed a bit unnerved by the grisly sight, not even
Zelven’s scrutinizing eyes could spot a hint of mourning.
Cautiously, he sat down.

“Lefty didn’t call you by your name, so
would you do me the courtesy of introducing yourself.”

“Tim,” the man said so timidly it
almost sounded like a question. “Sometimes Thin Tim,” he added
uneasily.

“Well, I admire a man who keeps his
weight under control. It’s a sign of not just physical, but also
mental, fitness. My name is George—George Ritmer, at your
service.”

Thin Tim took the extended hand
uneasily, his fear of displeasing Mr. Ritmer only slightly
outweighing his fear of getting near him.

“I feel much better now that we have
been properly introduced. Do you know why I’m here?”

You’re a robber and a
killer
, Tim wanted to say, but shook his
head, afraid he would surely join Lefty if his answer was
unsatisfactory.

“Well, that’s to be understood. A man
could have many motives for entering in such a bizarre fashion. Let
me explain it to you in economic terms. I have often been accused
of being an idealist. You see—I believe in free markets. If I stand
on the same street corner as you, it ought to be up to the buyer
whether he poisons himself with your Smokeless Green or mine. The
right to choose is very fundamental to individual liberty, is it
not?”

Tim nodded.

“Ah, I suspected you to be a
free market man the moment I heard your conversation with Lefty
here,” Zelven said, pointing to Lefty as naturally as if he were
alive and fully active in the conversation. “I think it was your
reticence to carry out Lefty’s protectionist order of checking the
telescope to see if the competition had returned. At that moment, I
told myself,
Those are the reluctant
footsteps and grudging tone of a man not fully onboard with this
arrangement.
Thus, here you sit before me,
heart still beating, body still in working order. We free marketers
are not exactly brutes, you know.”

“Lefty . . . Lefty was the one behind
it. He said you killed some of our men, so he sent . . . some guys
to spread the word that they wasn’t to deal with you,” Lefty said,
with the tone of a tattletale.

“Well, I’m willing to assume you were
acting under duress.”

Tim’s face brightened, until Zelven
resumed: “But duress doesn’t cover all sins. It’s a rather
persnickety legal defense, and not all jurists agree on its full
scope. Let’s say we simplify it with a simple
proposition.”

“Just name it, Mr. Ritmer,” Tim said
with the tone of a man eager to descend the gallows.

“I have a predicament. I am looking to
move up in this organization, but I happen to have an independent
source of Smokeless Green. Thus, while I believe I could be a
tremendous asset to this organization, I see my optimal role as
being one of supplier. I suspect I could be of great benefit even
to the largest wholesalers in this organization.

“Now, I thought I would go the
traditional route and just start selling to users on the street,
make a name for myself, begin supplying retailers, then wholesalers
. . . well, I don’t mean to condescend to you; you know how this
works, don’t you?”

Tim nodded unconvincingly.

“But, I keep hitting snags. First, a
few men tried to rob me, and I only narrowly survived. Then, Lefty
here started threatening my clients. I’m starting to think I’m
going about this whole process wrong. I’m thinking maybe you know
some people higher up in the food chain, if you will permit a
metaphor, that perhaps I could sell to directly. I can guarantee
you I’ll supply them more cheaply than their current supplier,
these vicious attacks against my person will cease, and we can all
go back to earning money.”

Tim looked pale.

“Now, forgive me for being
presumptuous—it is one of my vices—but I can read a man. And if I’m
not mistaken, you look like you’ve got some valuable information
for me but are afraid to part with it. Go on. We’re both
businessmen.”

“Well . . . I do know a guy. And, yeah,
he’s up the food chain. But—”

“Please speak, sir. No obstacle is
insuperable.”

“Well, he’s Lefty’s
brother.”

“Ahhh, ironic yes, but
unworkable no. Are you familiar with Gantler’s masterpiece
The Quest for Power
?”

Tim shook his head, thinking it best
not to mention he couldn’t read.

“Well, I won’t spoil it for you, but
there is an applicable part, I think. You see, when Frivulian,
suspecting a traitor in his organization, kills every man in his
inner circle, one by one, until only his brother is left, and yet
the attacks against his wife and children continue, he cries aloud,
begging forgiveness from the gods for the innocent blood he has
shed, and crying bitterly that he had suspected his brother from
the start but couldn’t bring himself to act on the
unthinkable.

“Moved by his remorse for the innocent
blood spilled and by his reluctance to commit fratricide, the gods
take pity on him and confuse the minds of the very assassins hired
by the treacherous brother, who then kill him, mistakenly believing
him to be the target.

“For family honor, he never discloses
his brother’s treachery, he weeps and eulogizes at his funeral, and
he promises vengeance against the assailants, but actually hires
them to replenish his ranks.”

Tim looked at blankly, but then a
malicious cunning crept into his eyes.

“Lefty has cheated on Robert
before.”

“And has this slight come to Robert’s
attention?”

Tim sighed, and then joy came into his
eyes as he continued. “More than twice. He said he’d kill him the
next time. I happened to be standing right next to him. Boy, Lefty
was mad. He denied it and cussed a blue streak, but Robert sent him
packing with a punch to the jaw and a kick to the
backside.”

“Do you believe he would have?” Zelven
asked, his blue eyes piercing like daggers into Tim’s.

Tim exhaled deeply, as if knowing his
answer better be precise. “Shucks . . . he was awful mad . . . they
is brothers . . . but, seein’ how Rob’s temper is, yeah, I think
he’d a killed Lefty if he ever cheated him again. I seen him kill
before.”

“Excellent,” Zelven replied.

Chapter 10

“So, let me get this straight,” Rob
said between large bites off a steak bigger than the plate holding
it. He had heard the story, and he was examining its taste. It left
something to be desired. Whereas the steak he was wolfing down had
been seared to perfection, its tender, juicy composition providing
a mild anti-inflammatory effect to his nearly perpetual anger, the
story he had just heard had a far less exquisite taste.

Perhaps if he tried the very words in
his own mouth he would get a better idea whether to swallow them or
spit them right back into Thin Tim’s face and order his throat cut
while he proceeded with his meal.

“Lefty was aimin’ for my
spot. But he figured if he just killed me outright, that might not
sit too well with my supplier . . .
or my
men
,” he said, casting a quick look at his
bodyguards to assay the extent of their mourning in the event of
his demise by treachery. A few shook their frowning heads, and he
decided that would suffice.

“So, he hires some guy—and I mean a guy
with some bad dudes backin’ him—to start killin’ people in our
backyard.”

Rob gulped down a piece of steak,
slashed off another, shoved it into his mouth, and
resumed.

“Bam, bam, bam—one guy after another
gettin’ stabbed, slashed, disappeared. You name it. Then, I’m to be
the next target. And I die along with a whole crew of guys inside
Lefty’s building.

“Lefty somehow survives, promises
vengeance, and then takes my spot.

“How am I doin’ so far,
Tim?”

“P-perfectly, sir.”

“Good. Cuz here’s where we get to the
part that don’t taste right. Just how in the hell was these guys
gonna kill me when Lefty’s in the building, but I AIN’T?!!!” he
snapped and then swallowed another large chunk of meat and then
began laughing menacingly.

His toady bodyguards dropped their
vicious frowns just slightly, as mean smiles traversed their cruel
mouths.

“Let me tell you, Tim. That ain’t
exactly what I call an ingenious plan. I mean I ain’t no grand
master strategist or nothin’, but if I wanted somebody dead, and I
wanted it done inside a building, I’d probably want the guy THERE
INSIDE THE BUILDING!”

Rob threw his arms out to either side
with a smile while looking around at his bodyguards. They were just
waiting for the order to throw Tim off the seven-story building
atop which they were currently enjoying the afternoon
sun.

Tim gulped nervously. “Lefty . . . he—”
Tim paused as he noticed he appeared to have the undivided
attention of Rob. That was a good sign because he had never seen a
man brought before him under bad circumstances walk away in one
piece unless Rob got that look on his face. But on the other hand,
even then a fellow’s odds were only about fifty-fifty.

“Lefty started drinkin’ that day, Rob.
And I mean early. By about 2 p.m., he was drunker than a skunk, and
he just kept fillin’ his glass. Lefty hadn’t told me anything about
him bein’ behind the killins, but he did tell me that he planned on
inviting you tonight for somethin’ real special. He laughed every
time he said ‘special.’

“Sometime around four, he just fell
flat on his back passed out. While he lay there, he started cryin’.
He said somethin’ like, ‘YOUASKED FOR IT, ROB!’ Then, he would just
start mutterin’ to hisself.

“I sat there waitin’ until about eight,
and that was when Lefty woke up. He sat back at the table and just
went right back to drinkin’. I asked him, ‘Wasn’t you supposed to
bring Rob over here? You said you had somethin’ special for
him.’

“He said, ‘Noo, you fool. Rob’s my
brother. I couldn’t do that.’

“He seemed real angry when I asked him,
and I didn’t think it smart to ask again.

“He just went back to drinkin’ and said
‘Brothers have to stick by each other ALWAYS’ about a dozen
times.

“I just sat there watchin’ him drink,
and then all of a sudden, some guys came bargin’ into the room and
wasted everybody except me.

“Then the guy asked to speak to Lefty
because he wanted payment for the job and had somethin’ to sell to
Lefty too.

“I told him Lefty was sittin’ there
deader than a hammer, and the man—Mr. Ritmer’s his name—was pipin’
mad. He asked me how he was supposed to get paid now that Lefty was
dead.

“I wasn’t sure quite how to answer that
question, seein’ as it was him that killed Lefty, not me, and plus,
I didn’t know what their business was.

“He musta seen I was confused because
he went ahead and explained everything right then and there. He
said Lefty had told him to just kill everyone except Lefty and the
thin guy sittin’ at the table.

“That’s when—”

“Hold your horses,” Rob thundered.
“Then why did he kill Lefty?”

“Mr. Ritmer said Lefty was supposed to
go relieve himself right at the time the attack was to happen. I
guess he figured I was the thin guy but thought you was Lefty,
since you both kinda look alike, and it was dark.”

“And why were
you
supposed to survive?”
Rob asked menacingly.