“No, to protect myself from you. You have a reputation for being a hothead, and, so far, you’re living up to it.”

“Well, it tickles me not to disappoint.”

“I had hoped to open a dialogue with you, Mr. Trapper. I’m afraid the rifled office got us off on the wrong foot.”

Trapper cut a glance toward the wall socket just above the baseboard behind his desk chair where Wilcox sat. The outlet plate had been unscrewed and pulled from the wall. Wiring curled from the jagged hole in the Sheetrock.

Wilcox noticed Trapper’s consternation, and his knowing smile made Trapper see red. “Dialogue? You and me?”

Wilcox nodded. “I want to propose a deal.”

Trapper scoffed. “Not likely. Not even remotely. Instead, let’s talk about Sunday night’s fiasco. Did you order the hit on The Major?”

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“It was stupid. A hit botched by two jerk-offs sent by someone a whole lot smarter. I’m guessing”—Trapper aimed his nine-millimeter at the center of the man’s forehead—“you. Just like the Pegasus.”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Mr. Trapper.”

“No, you are. By thinking there’s going to be any dialogue, much less a deal, between us.” Trapper took a cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans and tapped in 911.

The millionaire said, “You’re not going to call the police.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You won’t because you know the legend of the notorious madam.” Looking at Kerra, he explained. “She was never charged for the killings.”

“Why not?”

“Because several judges, the district attorney, the chief of police, and half the force were frequent customers of her establishment.”

Trapper said, “Kerra, that’s his way of telling me that he’s above the law because he’s got well-positioned people in his pocket.”

And the smooth-talking son of a bitch was right. Trapper didn’t want to call the cops and have Wilcox hauled in for a B & E when he was accountable for a minimum of one hundred ninety-seven murders.

As though reading his thoughts, Wilcox said, “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“Trapper.” Kerra touched his left sleeve. “Sit down.”

He wasn’t good at parleying, didn’t believe in bargaining with the bad guys, but in spite of himself, he was curious to hear more about this deal Wilcox had in mind. Without taking either his aim or his eyes off the man, he righted the other chair, straddled the seat backward, and propped his gun hand on the top slat. “Okay, I’m sitting.”

Wilcox looked at Kerra. “This is off the record.”

“Of course. I assumed that.”

Going back to Trapper, he said, “The people who vandalized your office want you dead. When not an outright threat, you’ve been a pest. Once and for all, they’d like to see you squashed.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“The only thing these people want more than to see you dead is to know how much information you gleaned during your investigation into me and how incriminating it is.”

Again Trapper glanced at the hole where the electrical outlet had been.

Wilcox swiveled the desk chair to follow Trapper’s gaze, and when he came back around, he said, “They found your hiding place.”

Trapper gnawed his inner cheek but didn’t say anything.

Kerra murmured with anguished disappointment.

“What was inside that wall?” Wilcox asked.

“Electrical wiring and lousy insulation.”

Undeterred by Trapper’s quip, the millionaire said, “It couldn’t have been anything very large. A file or two? Strongbox? Or something as small as a flash drive, perhaps?”

Trapper shifted in his seat but didn’t say anything.

Again Wilcox smiled with smugness. “And all this?” He indicated the contents of Trapper’s file cabinet scattered across the floor.

“Trash.”

“I believe you. You wouldn’t keep your files on the Pegasus that accessible.” He motioned behind him. “But it appears they got what they came for. The question is, will they be able to make heads or tails of it? Is it in code?”

Trapper narrowed his eyes. “Worried, Tom? Can I call you Tom?”

“I am worried, but not in the way you think.” Wilcox leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk.

The shift in body language made Trapper chuckle. “Getting down to business, huh? Is this where you lay out the terms of the deal? If so, you can save your breath. I have no authority to make a deal with you. I’m out, remember? Expelled. Disenfranchised. Professionally speaking, my dick was cut off.”

“You have friends in—”

“Former friends.”

“Surely not all your former associates thought you were wrong.” When Trapper didn’t either deny or confirm that, Wilcox continued. “Tell me what you have. I won’t admit to anything. But I’ll steer you along if you begin to stray.”

“I saw that movie, too,” Trapper said. “Me Bernstein, you Deep Throat.”

Wilcox looked annoyed. “If you don’t want to do this, I’ll leave.”

“Hell you will. You’d have to get past me and this pistol.”

“Shooting me wouldn’t accomplish anything.”

“Yeah, it would. It would make me feel better. Great, in fact.”

“Not for long. You’d be snuffed in a matter of days. You probably will be anyway.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“With Kerra’s life, too?”

That silenced Trapper’s wisecracking. Much as it galled him to play Wilcox’s game, he asked, “What are you offering?”

“I equip you to get reinstated and to reopen your Pegasus bombing case. I can make sure you’re listened to this time.”

Trapper hadn’t expected that, but he tried to conceal his shock. “You’d do that for me?”

“I would.”

“Even though you know I’d be coming after you first, and coming full throttle.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. You cooperate with me in exchange for what? Life rather than the death penalty?”

“Full immunity.”

Trapper barked a laugh. “Hilarious.”

Wilcox leaned back in his chair. “We need each other, Mr. Trapper. Think about it. Take the deal. Play it smart.”

“Oh, smart like you? Coming here alone? Waving around a flashy pistol?”

Wilcox said nothing for several seconds, then softly, “I had hoped you’d see reason, and it wouldn’t come to this.”

“Come to what?”

“I didn’t come alone.”

Trapper kept his facial expression as blank as possible, but every muscle in his body tensed.

Wilcox said, “There are five men outside—”

“Bullshit.”

“—waiting to escort me safely out of here after you and I have concluded our business. If we don’t reach a conclusion that’s satisfactory to me, they’re to make certain that you die. I really didn’t need the madam’s pistol. I was only showing it off.” He smiled.

If the man was bluffing, he was damn good at it.

“I can see you’re unconvinced, Mr. Trapper. Give Kerra the phone.” Trapper hesitated. Wilcox said, “I strongly advise that you do as I ask.”

Trapper held on to the cell phone for only a couple of seconds more, then passed it to Kerra.

“Call this number.” Wilcox gave her a ten-digit number, which she tapped in. “After one ring, hang up immediately.”

She did as told.

“Now go to the window.”

She looked at Trapper for instruction. He didn’t take his eyes off Wilcox. “If you’re setting her up to be hurt, your gray matter is gonna be dripping down that wall behind you.” Again, he took a bead on the space between the man’s eyes.

Kerra got up and walked to the window that overlooked the street.