“Respectful,” he noted.
“There’s no point in unnecessary conflict. I assume you have measures in place for when you would need to move on from Petty’s services. I thought it would be polite to let you know it was time to use them.”
“Are you telling me how I should run my business?”
“I am merely the messenger of an unfortunate reality,” I said.
Marcone steepled his fingers again for a moment, and then let them fall apart briefly, an acknowledgment.
“Why not simply walk away?” Marcone asked.
“First, I have been paid,” I said. “Second, the ghouls are using me without paying me. I can’t tolerate that.”
“What did you have in mind?” Marcone asked.
I told him.
He had a shark’s smile. “That hardly seems heroic.”
“I’m not a professional hero.”
After the meeting with Marcone, I stopped in the open street and called Viti. “Well?”
“You were right. The ghouls have realized things went south and they’re trying to clean up,” she said calmly. “They’re on you.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
“Only six?”
“Grey.”
“I know. I have an ego. Where?”
“Two cars, three each. Beige sedan. Black SUV.”
I glanced around until I’d spotted both cars. “Okay. Have they noticed you?”
Viti sounded mildly annoyed. “Grey.”
“We always check, don’t we?” I said.
“Hmph.”
“You pick a spot?”
“The silos.”
“Always charming,” I said. “Security?”
“Paid them out of petty cash.”
“See you there.”
And I got on my bike and started riding.
It was still early, and a weekend, so not much was moving. I rolled along at the speed of traffic, got onto Damen, and headed south.
