The Ethical Assassin

Why would Scott do it? The Gambler had always taken care of him and Ro

“So, what’s your next move?” he asked.

B.B. appeared suddenly to come awake. “I need to get my money, Gamb. I can’t have money like this just falling off the face of the earth.”

“We’ve got to face the real possibility that Doe is bent, and if he took the money, we’re not getting it back without some serious violence. You want to risk that?”

“I got the DevilDogs in Gainesville,” B.B. said. “We know for a fact that it was Doe, we have them ride down here and beat it out of him.”

The Gambler shook his head. B.B. was supposed to be the mastermind, but he’d become like a body without a head when his freaky bitch wasn’t around. “The county has made life hell for motorcycle gangs here. You know that. The DevilDogs come riding in, the sheriff’s department is going to be all over them. If a mayor and police chief get worked over and killed, even a bullshit one like Doe, it’s going to mean a big investigation. And we’re fucked if one of those numbnuts gets nailed by the cops. You think they’re going to keep their traps shut? Next thing you know, we’ve got the DEA involved, which means they’ll find something or someone who will tell them about the lab, and that’s going to ultimately lead them back to us.”

“Okay,” B.B. said quietly. “What do we do, then? How do we get the money?”

“I guess we have to figure out a way to get Doe to ‘find’ it, to make him realize that it doesn’t make any sense to rip us off.”

“How do we do that?”

The Gambler said nothing.

B.B. took this as a sign that the Gambler, too, was out of ideas. He stood up and walked to the door, rested one hand on the knob. “Let’s wait until Desiree gets back. She’ll figure something out.”

“So, that’s it?” the Gambler asked.

“For now, yeah. That’s it for now.” Then, all at once, his face grew bright with a private joke. “There’ll be more later, though.” And he was gone.

Two drinks later, his head filled with muted vodka clarity, the Gambler answered a knock at his door. It was Doe, leaning against the doorjamb, dressed in uniform, bottle of Yoo-hoo dangling in one hand.

“I got a noise complaint,” he said. “Neighbors say there’s a sound of vibrating bullshit coming from your room.”

The Gambler stood aside to let him in and then quickly shut the door. “You want a drink?” he asked, holding up his cloudy plastic cup.

Doe held up his bottle. “I don’t leave home without it.”

The Gambler sat in his chair by the window. “So, what do you want?”

“I got a noise complaint,” he said. “Neighbors say there’s a sound of vibrating bullshit.”

“It wasn’t fu

“How about the second?”

“Doe, this isn’t the tryouts for MAD magazine, so how about you tell me why you’re taking up my time.”

Doe took a swig and flashed his crooked teeth. “I hate to bother you when you’re sitting in a cheap motel drinking vodka by yourself, and normally I wouldn’t, but hell, Gamb, I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

“Then say it.”

“First of all, let’s cut the bull-fucking-shit, okay?” He walked over to the dresser and slammed the bottle down hard. A crack appeared in the particleboard. “I know that you and B.B. are full of little ideas about how I ripped you off, is that right? That maybe I killed Bastard and took the money, and now I’m trying to pin it on this fucking hapless kid to get myself off the hook. Does that about cover it?”

The Gambler tried hard to look impassive. This, he knew, was a showdown. Doe was there either to get himself off the hook for what he’d done or to set the record straight. Fine. Either way, it didn’t much matter in the end, since there were more important things than the $40,000. The continuity of the operation, for example. And power. When this little duel was over, the Gambler needed Doe to think of him as tough, decisive, and in charge. Everything else, even that chunk of cash, was secondary.

He took a sip of his drink. “That pretty much covers it.”

“And you want me to come up with cash or face consequences, I suppose.”

“I’ve had thoughts along those lines, yes.”

“Maybe you want to shut those thoughts the fuck up. Did you ever think of that?”

“No, I never thought of that. But since you did, maybe you should tell me why.”

Doe shook his head in sad disbelief. “First of all, I didn’t kill Bastard. And that means someone did, and that someone is still out there and has the money. You can believe me or not, but we’ve been doing this thing long enough that you know if I’d killed him, I’d admit it. Hell, if I stole the money and killed him, I’d still admit to killing him. I’d say he tried to rip us off and got caught and tried to kill me.”

“Now that we’ve established how you would be lying if you were lying, let’s hear number two.”

“Number fucking two,” Doe said, “is why the fuck would I rip you off? You cut me out or try to find the balls to take me out, I’m worse off than if we keep going on like we’ve been. I’m earning way too much from this shit to dick it up, so think with your fucking head for a second instead of B.B.’s. Snoop into my shit, if you want. I don’t got any debts, I got a pile in the Caymans. I want more, and I’m not going to fuck with the system.”

It was all true. Doe had relatively little to gain in the short term and nothing to gain in the long term by ripping them off. In fact, the only thing that made the Gambler still doubt Doe was the Altick kid, who said he’d seen the chief snooping around Bastard’s trailer. But that could have had something to do with the girl, he supposed.

He sat still, looking thoughtful for a few more minutes. “And those are your two points?”

“No, I got one more point. Point number three,” he said, “is that B.B. called the station today, disguised his voice, and said that you killed Bastard and took the cash. Now, I don’t know who has the money, but maybe that doesn’t matter so much right now, because B.B. has decided to fuck you up, and I think you want me on your side.”

“How do you know it was B.B. if the voice was disguised?”

“Because he’s an asshole, and I recognized him. Besides, who knows that Bastard is dead besides you, me, B.B., and his whore?”

Doe gave a half nod. “And how do I know you aren’t setting him up?”

“I guess you don’t. But you maybe want to decide what you believe, because if B.B. figures out I’m not going to deal with you, he might have a backup plan that takes you by surprise.”

The Gambler finished his drink and set down the plastic cup. “Okay,” he said after a minute or so, a minute he needed mostly to keep Doe waiting. “I’ll keep this information in mind. But let’s be clear about something. I don’t care if you stole the money or not. This is your house and your mess, and you need to clean it up. I’ll look into what you say about B.B., and I’d better not find out that you’re fucking with me, or I’m going to be pissed off. But if you’re not, then we’re going to be under new management, and new management says you clean up your fucking mess.” He stood up. “Because if you can’t get your act together, then you’re fucking worthless to me. So by Monday morning I want that money or I want to know what happened to it. And if you go with choice number two, you’d better make me believe you’re telling the truth. Now get the fuck out of here.”