Greed

Corsco sat.

“What’s your business with Nick Hardin?”

Corsco forced a smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Munroe just nodded and took out his cell phone, hit send, put the phone on speaker and set it on the desk. A voice answered.

“It’s for you,” Munroe said to Corsco.

A voice on the phone, sounding a little panicked. “Tony? Do what he wants. Whatever he wants. Do that, you’re OK. Don’t, then we’re all against you, all the families. I shit you not, Tony. You want no part of this guy. We’ve dealt with him before.”

“Carmelo?” Corsco said, puzzled.

“Just do what he wants.”

Munroe reached out and killed the co

“What’s your business with Nick Hardin?” Munroe repeated.

Corsco looked at Ringwald. “I’m supposed to stick my head in a noose for this guy, Gerry? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“I have, eh, assurances that Mr Munroe’s involvement is of an, eh, entirely extrajudicial nature. There are no legal ramifications attached to this conversation.”

“Extrajudicial,” Munroe said. “I like that. So, Hardin?”

Corsco opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “A favor for a friend,” he said, finally.

In one smooth motion, Munroe reached inside his coat, pulled out his small, flat Walther, the suppressor already attached, leveled it across the desk and fired, the pistol making a soft bark, the round smacking into the leather of the high-backed chair just to the right of Corsco’s neck, so close that it left a crease in the padded shoulder of his suit.

“Jesus!” Corsco gasped.

“I got no time for twenty questions,” Munroe said. “So I’ll ask one. Guess how many times I can shoot you from here without hitting anything vital?”

Corsco’s eyes went wide. “Fe

Munroe’s turn to be surprised. “The actor?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s Fe

“What diamonds?”

“You said the Africa business.”

“That Darfur thing. Hardin punched Fe

Corsco and Munroe looked at each other across the desk for a moment. Munroe remembered the Darfur thing. Just never imagined it had anything to do with this.

“What diamonds?” Corsco asked.

“Diamonds?” said Munroe. “Who said anything about diamonds?” Munroe slipped the pistol back inside his jacket. “OK, here’s the deal. You guys work for me now – and by guys, I mean your whole organization. First thing, get Fe

Munroe took a cell phone out of his pocket, put it on Corsco’s desk.

“That rings,” Munroe said, “it’s me. And you answer it. I don’t care if you’re throwing a hump into the missus, you climb off and say hello. And there’s one number on speed dial – mine. I want a line on this Hardin. This is not optional. There is no Plan B. You found him once, find him again. I don’t get some kind of useful intel out of you, then maybe you’re dead, or maybe I just send a tape of you confessing to putting a hit on Hardin to the DA.”

Munroe got up, headed for the door.

“Tape?” Ringwald said. “DA? You said this was off the record.”

Munroe pulled a small digital recorder from his pocket and wiggled it at the two men. “I lied,” he said. “I do that sometimes.”

CHAPTER 34

The crew for Fe

“Shamus Fe

Lynch caught the look from Bernstein. Fe

“I’m Detective Lynch. This is Detective Bernstein. We’re working a homicide. A few of them, actually.” Leave it there for a second, see where Fe

Fe

Bernstein took a picture of Hardin from his pocket, screen grab off the Oprah video, handed it to Fe

Fe

“Yeah. Yeah, I know him. Nick Hardin. He’s dead?”

“We don’t know. He’s missing.”

Fe

“Yeah,” Lynch said, “we saw the clip on Oprah, you and Hardin. And now both of you are in town. Curious, you know?”

Fe

“I can see you guys coming to talk to me,” Fe

Fe

Lynch nodded. “How about Tony Corsco? You talk to him?”

“What makes you think I’d be talking to him?”

“Because he sent his lawyer to brace you at the Hawks game last night. Gerry Ringwald. I saw you two chatting. You didn’t look real happy.”

Another nod from Fe

Fe

Lynch shook his head.

“OK,” Fe

Lynch shook his head again.

“Anyway, it was a mob pic, and we had Tony in as, I du