The Black Ice Score Read online

  “Cautious to the end, eh?” He smiled and got to his feet, flicking cigarette ash on the rug. “Very well, then,” he said.

  “We'll leave it at that. For the moment.”

  They trooped to the door. Parker turned and looked at them, the three of them standing together, looking like cousins, threads of similarity among them, that touch of the farmer in all three of them.

  Number one paused, his hand on the knob. “I hope,” he said, “for your sake, we never have to meet again.”

  Parker said nothing.

  Number one waited, expecting a response, then shrugged and opened the door and went out. The other two followed.

  2

  Claire was sitting on the closed toilet lid, knees together, arms hugging herself. She was a good-looking woman, a stylish woman, but fear had made her angular and jagged and old.

  Parker stayed in the doorway, his hand on the knob. “They're gone,” he said.

  She thawed slowly, straightening, her arms losing their tension, her face relaxing back toward something he recognized. She said, “Who-” and stopped because her voice was rusty. She coughed and cleared her throat, ducking her head in a gesture he knew, and looked up at him to say, “Who were they? What did they want?”

  “They didn't say.”

  “You can tell me,” she said. “This time, you can tell me.”

  He knew she meant the agreement they had that he wouldn't ever talk to her about the life he had when he was being Parker. He shook his head. “They didn't say. They were full of something I don't know about, and they wouldn't believe I wasn't in on it.”

  She stood up, moving slowly as though she were stiff, holding on to the sink for support. “What did they want?”

  “To tell me not to get involved.”

  “In what?”

  “They didn't say.”

  She frowned at him, frustrated, then suddenly grinned as though something unexpected had struck her funny. “Really?” she said.

  He nodded. “Really.”

  “They came in and acted tough and told you not to get involved and they wouldn't say in what?” She was grinning broadly now.

  “Don't get hysterical,” he said.

  “I'm not going to get hysterical. I was afraid of them, really afraid of them, and they're just…silly. Just silly men.”

  “Maybe,” Parker said.

  “I think I'll come out of the bathroom now,” she said, and her smile was more natural, as though maybe she wouldn't have hysterics.

  “Fine,” he said. He put his hand out toward her and she took it, holding tight.

  She came out to the main room and looked around. “They searched,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “I don't suppose you know for what.”

  “No.”

  She looked at him, and though she was still smiling her eyes were a little shadowed. “Shall we drink in the room,” she said, “or go out?”

  “Here.”

  “Good. I'll call.”

  She let his hand go and walked between the beds to the stand with the phone, but just as she got to it it rang. She stopped, hand partway out toward the phone, and looked back at Parker to say, “Am I stupid? I want you to answer it.”

  “That's not stupid,” Parker said. The phone rang again as he went by her. He picked up the receiver, said, “Yes?”

  “Mr Walker?” The voice insinuated; it was made of oil.

  “Yes,” Parker said.

  “Have they left?”

  Parker stiffened. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Claire watching him, saw her react to his reaction. He said, “Yes.”

  “I hope they were not…too much trouble.”

  “No,” Parker said. Claire was watching him as though to read the other half of the conversation on his forehead.

  “Did you make a decision?” the voice asked.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  “Then there might be some profit in our having a talk?”

  “I don't know. Who are you?”

  “Oh, you don't know me, Mr Walker. But let's say I was in your shoes once, that I might be able to offer you the benefit of my experience. Would you be interested?”

  “Yes,” Parker said.

  “Then may I sug—” Click.

  The line was dead.

  Parker said, “Hello?”

  Claire said, “What is it?”

  Parker shook his head. He put the receiver back on its cradle and said, “I don't like this.”

  “What was it?”

  “Another one. He wanted to know if they'd left, wanted to know if I'd like to have a talk with him. Then the connection got broken.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  He looked at her. “Nothing,” he said. “If somebody else shows up, I'll try to find out what's going on. If not, we forget it.”

  “Can you? That easily?”

  “Why not?”

  She spread her hands. “I don't know. Curiosity, something. Sometimes you don't seem-” She shrugged and turned away. “I don't think I want that drink after all,” she said.

  “What do you want instead?”

  “Do you think we should go back? Back to Miami?”

  “No.”

  She looked at him. “Why not?”

  He didn't tell her the reason. The reason was they were only at this hotel in New York for a few days, so if trouble happened here it couldn't louse up much. But in Miami they were known, they had a pattern developed; if there was trouble down there it could spoil a lot of things. But to talk to her about trouble would only make her nervous, so he said, “Because we're here to shop. Some people got their wires crossed, but they'll find out it was a mistake and that's the end of it. They didn't tell me enough to make me dangerous to them, and after a while they'll find out I'm not in on their thing,”whatever it is, so they won't be back.”

  She looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

  “I'm not packing,” he said.

  She looked at the open suitcase on the bed. “You think it's safe to stay here?”

  “Yes. And I think you ought to go out. Go to some stores, buy some things. That's what you're here for. It'll get those three out of your head.”

  “You won't come with me?”

  “I'll cramp your style,” he told her. “Go on and buy things.”

  “I don't like this!” she said, suddenly bursting it out.

  Parker went over and put his hands on her arms. “They didn't hurt you,” he said. “They leaned a little and said don't get involved. So we're not getting involved, so it's all over. I know this kind of thing; you can take my word for it.”

  She looked at him, and he could see her wanting to believe him. “Can I really?”

  “You can.”

  She began to shiver. He pulled her in and held her, and the shivering settled down, and after a while she nodded against his jaw and said, “I'm all right.”

  He let her go. “You want a drink now?”

  “No I will go shopping. That's what I was going to do this afternoon, so why not?”

  “That's right,” he said.

  It took her five minutes to get ready. He sat on the bed and watched her, pleased by her existence but in a hurry for her to be gone, and when she'd kissed him and left he picked up the phone and called a number in uptown Manhattan and asked to speak to Fred.

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Colt,” Parker said. “I need a traveling iron. Can I get one delivered to the hotel?”

  “Are you a referral, Mr Colt?”

  “A friend of mine named Parker recommended you.”

  “Oh, yes. Mr Parker, I remember him. Did you have any special kind of iron in mind, Mr Colt?”

  “What do you have available?”

  “Oh, most kinds. The thirty-two-dollar circular model, or the larger one at thirty-eight dollars. Or the forty-five-dollar automatic steam model. Then there are some nice German irons.”

  “The thirty-two-dollar model
's good enough,” Parker said.

  “Excellent. And you want that delivered?”

  “Yes. Normanton Hotel, West Forty-sixth Street, room seven twenty-three.”

  “And that will be cash on delivery.”

  “Naturally,” said Parker. “How soon can it get here?”

  “Is this a rush order?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmmm.” There was a silence, and then: “Within the hour.”

  “Fine,” Parker said, and hung up.

  Fifty minutes later there was a knock at the door. Parker opened and let in a messenger with a package. “Fifty bucks,” the messenger said.

  Parker paid him, in cash, and he left. Parker opened the package and took out a Smith and Wesson Terrier .32-caliber revolver, a stubby five-shot pistol with a two-inch barrel. There was also a box of cartridges in the package. Parker loaded the revolver and tucked it away under the pillow of his bed.

  3

  Claire said, “You have no more money.”

  Parker, sitting on the bed, his back against the pillow, looked at her and saw she was over it. She'd believed his assurances, and the shopping had taken her mind off it more, and the raw, windy day outside had given her good color. She looked fine, happy and healthy, dropping packages on the other bed. She'd come in with a double armload of boxes and bags.

  Parker said, “Let's see.”

  “One at a time,” she said. “I'll give you a fashion show.”

  “Good.”

  She rummaged among the packages, selected two and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Calling out to him, she said, “The crowds were incredible. I'd forgotten.”

  He listened to her, but didn't have the attention to find anything to answer. He was thinking about the three this morning, and the other one on the phone, and when they'd come back, and what their attitude would be this time.

  From the bathroom Claire called, “And do you think you can find anything in the color you want? Not a bit of it.”

  Should he send Claire back to Miami by herself? But then if nothing else happened the trip would be spoiled for no reason.

  “But it's worth it,” she called, and came out of the bathroom smiling, wearing plum and gold. Holding her arms out, she turned in a slow circle. “Isn't it?” she said.

  Parker looked at her, and again he was pleased to have her to look at. “You look good,” he said.

  “That's the whole point,” she said, and the phone rang.

  She stopped in the middle of a pirouette, one arm awkwardly curved. She looked at the phone.

  Parker picked it up. “Yes?”

  “I'm sorry we were cut off before. It was unavoidable. They very nearly saw me.”

  It was the same oily voice. Parker said, “You were down in the lobby?”

  “Yes, of course. It was necessary for me to leave and then follow them again till they lit. But I'm back now.”

  “Downstairs?”

  Claire shook her head, as though to deny it was happening.

  “Shall I come up?”

  “I'll come down,” Parker said. “I'll meet you in the bar.”

  “A public place might not be the best.”

  “You're not coming up here,” Parker said.

  The voice sighed. “Very well. You will find me wearing a red tie. I do not know what you look like, so it will be necessary for you to come to me.”

  “All right. I'll be down in five minutes.”

  “Very good.”

  Parker hung up and got to his feet. Claire said, “The man who called before?”

  “Yes. I'm going down and talk to him.” He took the pistol out from under his pillow and tucked it into his left hip pocket.

  Her eyes widened when she saw the gun. “You didn't have that before.”

  “I'll be back in a little while,” he said. “Put the night lock on. Don't open the door to anybody but me.”

  “You knew it wasn't done with,” she said, staring at him. “You knew they'd be back.”

  “It was a chance. I won't be long.” He put on his jacket and left.

  4

  The hotel bar was a dark, square room with the bar along the back wall and the rest of the space taken up with low tables flanked by low, broad Naugahyde chairs, everything in shades of brown with brass fixtures.

  Parker sat at the first table to the right, just inside the door. There was a bowl of peanuts there. He took a handful of peanuts, ate a couple, and looked at the reflection in the back bar mirror of the man with the red necktie sitting at the end of the bar.

  Perhaps thirty. Suit a little bit seedy but proper, a nondescript brown. Face handsome but weak, with a yellow-tan moustache, as though his dreams of glory included being a British air ace of the First World War. His hair was yellow-tan, too, and thinning, the long hairs brushed straight back from a slightly flushed forehead. He was drinking something with a cherry and a slice of orange in it, and he betrayed nervousness only by constantly looking at himself in the mirror and constantly turning and turning his glass on the bar.

  There were about a dozen other customers in the bar. Parker watched them all, and when he was sure none of them cared about the man with the red necktie he shook his head at the waiter finally coming this way, got to his feet, and walked over to sit at the bar.

  The other looked at him in the back bar mirror. His lips curved into a little V of a smile under his moustache, like a pornographer about to show his pictures, and he murmured, “Mr Walker. A pleasure.”

  “I didn't get your name.” Parker didn't bother with the mirror routine. He turned his head and watched the other's profile, less than arm's reach away. All around, people murmured their conversations together.

  “Hoskins.” He kept looking at the mirror, and bowed to it. “How do you do?”

  “What do you want, Hoskins?”

  “So very direct.” Still with that little smile, Hoskins shook his head at the mirror and sipped at his drink. Putting the glass down he said, “We shouldn't rush into this, Mr Walker, not till we know each other a little better.”

  Parker controlled his impatience. If Claire hadn't been around on this trip, he would have agreed to meet Hoskins in the room, and by now Hoskins would be talking very fast, in complete and informative sentences. But the way things were there was no place private to take Hoskins, and in public here there was no way to hurry him.

  He turned away from Hoskins to the bartender passing by. “Scotch and water.”

  “Sir.”

  He looked back at Hoskins. “It's your ball,” he said.

  Hoskins ducked his head slightly, still smiling, as though he'd been complimented and was showing a pretty embarrassment. Then he turned his head to look at Parker directly, his little smile disappeared, and he said, “What did you tell them?”

  “That I didn't know what was going on.”

  Hoskins made an impatient gesture. “Not them,” he said. “Gonor and that bunch of his, what did you tell them?”

  Parker said, “Why?”

  The little smile came back. “I have to know if you're working for them, don't I? I have to know if your sense of loyalty is involved, don't I?”

  “It isn't,” Parker said.

  “You told them no?”

  “I haven't told them anything.”

  Hoskins was pleased. “Good,” he said. “Let him wait a little while, let him get anxious. That was my mistake, you know; I looked too eager, I jumped too soon. I admit it, I was too anxious.”

  “So now you're out?”

  Hoskins looked surprised. “They wouldn't be coming to you if I was still their man, would they?”

  “No, they wouldn't,” said Parker. He was still waiting for Hoskins to say the one thing that would turn all the rest of this gibberish into sense. Given enough time, and by the obvious slackness of his nature, Hoskins finally would come up with it. All it took was patience, which for Parker did not come naturally.

  “There's plenty in it for two men,” Hoskins w
as saying. “They tell you how much?”

  “No.”

  Hoskins nodded grimly. “Full of little hints, aren't they? But they won't come right out with it. Well, I tell you I'm convinced it can't be less than a million! It can't be! It only stands to reason. The Colonel wouldn't walk out with less than that, would he?”

  “Maybe not,” Parker said. He was wondering if the Colonel was the same as Gonor, the other name Hoskins had mentioned. Or was the Colonel one of the three who'd been in the room before?

  Hoskins said, “So there's plenty for two men, you can see that. Two smart men working together. White men. You see what I mean.”.

  “It's possible,” Parker said, and the bartender appeared and put his drink in front of him, saying:

  “Are you Mr Walker?”

  “Yes.”

  “You're wanted on the phone, sir. I'll bring it to you.”

  The bartender went away, and Hoskins, looking very suspicious and nervous, said, “Is that them?”

  “My wife is the only one who knows I'm here,” Parker said. He and Claire were traveling as Mr and Mrs Walker, and since this one obviously didn't know about the Parker name, he probably accepted Claire's wife status, too. In any case, it was simplest to describe her that way.

  Hoskins worked moodily at his drink while they waited for the phone to be brought. He didn't look at Parker at all now, neither directly nor in the mirror, but gloomily studied the surface of the bar as though thinking about flaws in his course of action.

  The bartender brought the phone and handed the receiver to Parker.

  Parker said, “Yes?”

  It was Claire. “There are four men here,” she said. It was hard to tell anything from her voice.

  Parker said, “The same?”

  “No,” she said. “These are different ones. I told them about the others, and what you're doing now, and they promised to explain everything.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Tell them? They aren't like the others; you'll see. There's nothing to worry about.”

  There was always something to worry about when various groups were maneuvering around each other and at least one of them was flashing guns, but Parker didn't say anything about that. He said, “I'll be right up,” and hung up.