The story so far:
“It’s all over the news,” I told Wright as he sat, staring out his window, puffing a cigar, “Don’t you get CNN on that thing?” I asked, tapping his computer monitor. Boy this old **** was starting to get on my nerves. I come to tell him the subject of the green file offed himself and all he can say is…
“Huh, that’s not part of my plan.”
“What plan? Isn’t this some kind of investigation?” Besides getting me some poon, this job is wearing on me. All the uncertainty. I’m starting to realize, I just might be more of an office guy after all.
“Toby, my boy, every thing takes planning. ‘A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan next week’ you know who said that?”
“Nope,” nor do I know what it means. I don’t even care. When people start getting killed in conjunction with my job, education takes a back seat to preservation.
“Patton said it.” He hands me a red file. Yippy, another file.
“We need to review. The subject of the green file is dead, presumably by his own hand. I didn’t see that coming. I’m a little disappointed to be honest, but never mind. Egg and Frau, you remember them from the yellow folder correct?” I nod. Remember? Yes. Have any idea who or what they correlate to? No. And, wow, could I care less.
“They are headed to Detroit,” Wright continues, “Egg and Frau have the pink folder, which is just what I wanted.”
“OK.” I don’t remember a pink folder. Should I?
“Have you ever handled a gun?”
“No,” here’s where I panic, “Look, Mr. Wright, this is getting a little heavy for me. I quit. Here’s your red file back. I don’t even want to look at it. I’m not handling a gun, sorry.” Here’s where Wright surprises me.
“Open the file, Kid.”
“No, Mr. McClain…”
“Open it,” Wright growls, sliding it across the desk to me, “red handed,” he says flashing a creepy, toothy smile. With Wright baring his teeth and staring me down, I open the red file. Naked flesh, ok, I’m a little shaky.
“So, it’s me and a girl I met last week, so what?” That’s right, I’m playing it cool.
“She’s sixteen,” Wright grins. I try to maintain my composure. I’m sure she said she was eighteen. He’s bluffing. I bet he’s bluffing.
“You’re bluffing,” ok I barely squeak it out, but I say it.
“You wanna take that chance?” Wright starts laughing. A piece of paper, clipped to the picture is a copy of her birth certificate. Could be anybody’s though. Violet is a common name, isn’t it? I think I’m going to puke. Wright is just staring at me laughing, his face getting redder and redder. Then he starts coughing. God it’s a disgusting phlegmy, liquid cough. Maybe he’ll choke on it.
“Ever been to Detroit, Kid?”