The Reapers

“You’ll forgive me for not shaking hands,” said Hoyle. He managed the neat trick of making it sound like a request, a favor granted by another even if the decision had been entirely his own. “Even with my gloves on, I tend to be cautious about such matters. The human hand is home to both resident and transient bacteria, a veritable cesspool of germs, but it is the transients of whom we must be most acutely aware. My immune system is not what it once was-a congenital weakness-and now I no longer venture beyond these walls. Nevertheless, I remain in good health, but precautions must be taken, particularly where visitors are concerned. I hope you’re not offended.”

Neither Angel nor Louis looked offended. Louis remained impassive. Angel appeared bewildered. He glanced discreetly at his hands. They looked clean, but he knew what a cesspool was. He sipped some green tea. It didn’t taste of very much at all. He considered using it to wash his hands.

“I hear you’ve been having difficulties,” said Hoyle. He addressed his comments to Louis alone. Angel was used to such behavior. It didn’t trouble him. It meant that, in the event of a problem, he usually had an advantage over those, like Simeon and his master, who had underestimated him.

“You seem to be well informed,” said Louis.

“I make it my business to be,” replied Hoyle. “In this case, your interests and mine appear to have coincided. I know who sent those men to your home and the business premises in Queens. I know why they were sent. I also know that the situation is likely to deteriorate further unless you act promptly.”

Louis waited.

“In 1983,” Hoyle continued, “you killed a man named Luther Berger. He was shot in the back of the head at close range as he left a business meeting in San Antonio. You were paid fifty thousand dollars for the hit. It was good money, in those days, even split with the driver of your getaway vehicle. In keeping with protocol, you didn’t ask why Berger had been targeted.

“Unfortunately, though, his name wasn’t really Luther Berger. He was Jon Leehagen, or ‘Jo

“The men who attacked your home and the auto shop in Queens were sent by Leehagen. More will follow. I don’t doubt that you’re capable of handling most of them, but, rather like terrorists, they only have to get lucky once, while you will have to be both lucky, and proficient, all of the time. I also imagine that you would prefer not to have any more attention drawn to yourself or your business operations than is absolutely necessary. Therefore, it is incumbent upon you to act sooner rather than later.”

“And how would you know all of this?”

“Because I am at war with Arthur Leehagen,” said Hoyle. “I make it a point to know as much as possible about his actions.”

“And assuming any of this is true, why are you so eager to share it with us?” asked Louis.

“There is bad blood between Leehagen and me. It goes back a very long way. We grew up not far from each other, but our lives have taken somewhat divergent paths. Despite that, fate has seen fit to bring us into conflict on occasion. I would like to outlive him, and I would like that process to begin as soon as possible.”

“Must be real bad blood,” said Louis.

Hoyle nodded at Simeon. A portable DVD player was placed upon the table. Simeon hit the “Play” button. After a second or two, a grainy film commenced.

“This arrived two months ago,” said Hoyle. He did not look at the screen. Instead, he watched the reflection of the ripples upon the wall behind them.

The film showed a pretty blond woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties. The woman appeared to be dead, and her face and hair were smeared with mud. She was naked, but most of her body was obscured by the massive heads of the hogs that were feeding on her. Angel looked away. Simeon hit “Pause,” freezing the image.

“Who is she?”

“My daughter, Loretta,” said Hoyle. “She was seeing Leehagen’s surviving son, Michael. She was doing so out of spite. She blamed me for all that was wrong with her life. Sleeping with the son of a man whom I despised seemed, to her, fitting revenge, but she underestimated the Leehagen family’s capacity for violence, and vengeance.”

“Why would he do that?” asked Louis quietly.

Hoyle looked away, unable to meet Louis’s eye. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, the clear implication being that whatever had provoked such a response had been similarly vile.

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“Because there was no proof that Leehagen did this. I know the recording came from him-I can feel it-but even if I managed to convince the police that Leehagen was responsible, I guarantee that there would be nothing of my daughter left for them to find, assuming they could even locate the hog farm in question. There is also the matter of my own dealings with Leehagen. Neither of us is entirely i

He gestured at Simeon, who picked up the DVD player and removed it to a darkened alcove, then disappeared into one of the back rooms.

“I should add that you were not my first port of call in this matter,” said Hoyle. “I first hired a man named Kandic, a Serb, to kill Leehagen’s remaining son, and, if possible, Leehagen himself. I was informed that Kandic was the best in the business.”

“And how did that work out?” asked Louis.

Simeon returned. In his hands was a glass jar, and in the jar lay a human head. The corneas had been drained of color by the embalming fluid, and the skin had been bleached to the color of bone. The flesh at the base of the neck was ragged and torn.

“Not very well,” said Hoyle drily. “This arrived one week ago. Either I was misled when I was told that Kandic was the best, or it’s bad news for anyone who might consider following in his footsteps.”

“And now you want Leehagen to pay for what happened to your daughter.”

“I want this to end. It will do so only when one of us is dead. Naturally, as I said, I would prefer it if Leehagen predeceased me.”

Louis stood. The movement caused the two men by the door to reach for their weapons, but Simeon stilled them with a wave of his hand.

“Well,” said Louis, “this has all been very interesting. I don’t know where you get your information from, but you should talk to your source, because he’s feeding you some poor product. I don’t know about any Luther Berger, and I’ve never handled a gun in my life. I’m a businessman, that’s all. I’d also be careful about saying some of those things out loud again. It could get you into trouble with the law.”

Louis walked to the door, Angel behind him. Nobody tried to stop them, and no one said anything until they had passed into the lobby and were waiting on the elevator.

“Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” said Hoyle. “I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you soon.”

The elevator doors opened, Louis and Angel stepped inside, and rode in silence to the ground before disappearing into the streets.

Louis was silent as they drove from Hoyle’s building. Around them, the city moved to its own hidden heartbeat, a rhythm that varied from hour to hour, tied to the movements of the individuals that inhabited it so that sometimes he found it hard to tell if the city dictated the lifestyles of its people, or the people influenced the life of the city.