Part 19 (2/2)
There seemed to be trees behind him, but they weren't evenly s.p.a.ced like the trees at the Hunting Club. Flint couldn't quite figure out where Nyquist was.
”As secure as I can be in a public place,” Flint said.
”How'd you know about Bowles?” No preamble, no niceties. Just the cop question. ”One of her security guards told me.”
”What?” Nyquist looked startled. ”Why you?”
”Because I was the one paying for her protection,” Flint said.
”I thought you didn't like Ki Bowles.”
”I didn't,” Flint said.
”Then why would you pay for her security detail?”
”To keep her safe,” Flint said. ”And that's all you're going to get out of me until you give me something in return.”
”One of her bodyguards was killed with her,” Nyquist said.
”Tell me something I don't know.”
”Along with Roshdi Whitford himself.”
Flint leaned back in the booth. He wasn't sure how to play that. He knew that information, but it implicated the other guard.
But the guard was in police custody, so Nyquist would eventually realize that Flint had known that bit of information before Nyquist revealed it.
”The bodyguard told me that as well,” Flint said.
”Well, then you're ahead of me,” Nyquist said. ”This bodyguard have a name?”
”Pelham Monteith.”
Nyquist nodded, as if he were making a mental note of the name. ”So, do you have some other information for me?”
”In trade,” Flint said.
”You know the department doesn't do that,” Nyquist said.
”Of course you do.” Flint leaned back in the booth. One of the serving trays came by and b.u.mped him. He had to order to be here as well. ”That's what informants are for.”
”I can't give you anything,” Nyquist said.
Flint pressed the top item on the menu in front of him, then punched in his number, not caring what he had just ordered. ”Then we can't work together.”
He moved broadly, as if he were going to sign off, when Nyquist asked, ”Okay. What is it you want?” ”Leads when you have them in the Bowles case. I need to know if she's a random victim or if she was the target. I also need to know who targeted her.”
”Why?” Nyquist asked.
”For the same reason I hired her protection,” Flint said.
Nyquist frowned. ”You in trouble?”
”I don't know,” Flint said. ”If you give me some information, I might be able to answer that question.” ”What the h.e.l.l did you involve her in? And why?”
”She's a good reporter,” Flint said.
Nyquist's frown grew deeper. ”You hired her for her skills?”
”Sometimes you take the best, even if you don't like their methods.”
”For what?”
Flint grinned at him. ”Think about it, Bartholomew. Then get back to me.”
He was about to sign off when Nyquist held up a hand.
”You're her source?”
”Of course not,” Flint said. ”How could I know anything about Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor?”
”Your closeness to . . .” Nyquist stopped speaking before he finished the thought. He finally put the information together. He knew that Flint had gotten some files from Paloma the day that she died. He also knew that Flint had never looked at those files.
Nyquist also knew that Flint hated Justinian Wagner, and was furious that no one would be punished for Paloma's death and the attack on Nyquist. They'd talked about it while Nyquist was still hospitalized. Flint said someday Justinian Wagner had to pay for letting the a.s.sa.s.sins know where to find Paloma and her ex-husband, Claudius Wagner.
”You don't strike me as a revenge kinda guy,” Nyquist said.
”You're right,” Flint said. ”I'm more a believer in justice.”
Nyquist made a small dismissive sound. ”Your justice might've just gotten a woman killed.” ”Believe me,” Flint said, ”I am aware of that.”
The serving tray appeared, covered with something that looked like a cross between vomit and peanuts. It smelled like green tea.
Flint made a face-he couldn't help himself-but let the serving tray place the food on the table. At least the stuff didn't smell all that bad. He just couldn't look at it.
”This stuff that you gave Bowles,” Nyquist said, ”is it-”
”I'm not saying I gave anything to Bowles,” Flint said.
”You just said-”
”I just implied,” Flint said.
”Oooo-kay.” Nyquist spoke slowly, as if Flint were a crazy man. ”This stuff you implied you had . . .” ”Didn't say I had it, either,” Flint said.
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