I was at a point in my life where I could have gone in any direction; all I needed was a push. If somebody religious had got hold of me, he could’ve made a missionary out of me.
But somebody religious didn’t come around.
The Broker did.
5
“Ash,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s the name. Mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I just happen to have an address that goes with it. That, you can have later on.”
“Later on.”
“Right. Soon as we get some trust built up in each other. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“I can understand that. You want to tell me about Ash?”
“He worked through the Broker. Like you. Like me. Like that dead kid in bed in the other room.”
“So he worked through the Broker. So what?”
“So three and a half months ago, the Broker was killed. Or, should I say, hit.”
“No kidding.”
“And I think we both know who hit him.”
“Do we?”
“Come on, Quarry. You killed the Broker. Don’t fuck around.”
“What if I didn’t?”
“Kill the Broker, you mean? Wouldn’t matter. Ash thinks you did.”
“Don’t stop now. You’re rolling.”
“I kind of thought you’d find this interesting. Anyway, Ash, or somebody behind him, wants to take over where the Broker left off. And figures doing away with the guy that killed the broker is a necessary safety precaution for anybody planning to step in the Broker’s shoes.”
“When do you get to the part where you and me make a pile?”
“I’m there already. All we got to do, Quarry, is ease Ash out. Or, Ash and whoever’s behind him, if there is somebody behind him. That part I’m not sure about, but it’s no problem.”