“I suppose not.” Blatt made a show of extending his left arm. He was wearing a Casio G-Shock. “Feel free to take this one.”
Simon spoke earnestly. “I was simply repossessing stolen property.”
“You are saying I stole the watch?” Blatt’s pale face had gone a vivid shade of crimson at the drop of a hat.
“I’m sure it was an honest mistake,” said Simon. “Watches aren’t like cars. Much harder to keep track of past owners.”
“This is true,” said Blatt, mollified. “One never knows where a watch has been. A person buys it. Perhaps he gives it to a friend. Someone else loses it. Over the years, anything can happen.”
“Anything.” Simon nodded obediently. Blatt’s men had formed a circle around him, and he could feel their enmity radiating like heat off a blacktop.
“However,” Blatt continued, rubbing his little gray head, “that does not change the reason for my visit. It seems you owe me five million dollars.”
“I do?”
“We already agree that you took my watch. Its value is given as three million and change. You do the math.”
Simon already had and he didn’t like the result. “And the additional sum?”
“For my time, my efforts to find you, and my forbearance.”
“Quite an hourly rate. I didn’t know you were an attorney.”
“Five million dollars, Mr. Riske.”
One of Blatt’s thugs emerged from the paint studio, manhandling Lucy.
“Ah,” said Blatt, eyes undressing her. “Your lovely assistant.” He nodded at her. “I believe we met the other night.”
To her credit, Lucy held her tongue.
Simon assessed the situation. He was not in what one might call a good bargaining position. He guessed that Lucy was to be their hostage until he ponied up the money or they came to some other agreement. He did not want to imagine what might happen to her once Blatt turned his back. “What do you suggest, Mr. Blatt?”
“Boris, please. We are all friends here.” He smiled theatrically, then approached Simon, one man speaking to another. “I would like you to come work for me.”
“Really?”
“I could use a man with your skills.”
Simon smiled faintly, as if not entirely averse to the proposition. “In what capacity?”
“In whatever capacity I say.”
The smile faded. “And my work here?”
“Oh, the shop will be mine, too,” Blatt went on, speaking the words softly, inches from his face, enjoying himself far too much for Simon’s taste. “Did I forget to mention that?”
Simon looked around the floor. At Harry and Lucy. At his crew of mechanics. At the cars in varied states of restoration and rebuilding. He loved this place. The people. The cars. The lingering scents of oil and grease and the smell of good old-fashioned sweat. The day he turned his shop over to Blatt was the day he…Well, he’d never turn it over to Blatt.
“Would you excuse me a moment?” he said, far too politely.
“Where are you going?”
“To get you your money.”
“You have it here?” asked Blatt.
Simon stared back at the Russian. Blatt nodded to an underling. “Go with him.”
