Dirt

man drove away in the Bentley.
    Peebles turned to the security guard. “What do you want?” he said.
    “I’m to escort you from the company’s house when you have retrieved your belongings,” he said.
    Cursing under his breath, Peebles opened the front door of the house and walked in. The place was empty. All furnishings, draperies, and pictures had been removed. He walked down the hallway to his bedroom, his heels echoing on the bare tile floors. In the middle of the otherwise empty bedroom sat half a dozen suitcases, packed.
    “I’ll give you a hand,” the guard said.
    Shortly, Peebles was standing on the sidewalk, his luggage stacked beside him.
    “Your house key,” the guard said.
    Peebles handed it to him.
    “I’ve been told to give you a message from your father-in-law: If you ever return to Britain he will make it his business to see that you regret it for the rest of your life.” He got into a car parked at the curb. “Do you want me to radio my office to call you a cab?” he asked.
    “Thank you, yes,” Peebles said.
    “Consider it done,” the guard said, and drove away.
    Peebles stood on the sidewalk and tried to organize his thoughts, but it wasn’t working.
    Finally the cab came, and the driver loaded his luggage.
    He didn’t bother holding the door for Peebles, who let himself into the cab. “Where to, Mister?”
    “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Peebles said, staring out the window into the middle distance.
     
Chapter 58
     
    The tape was suddenly ripped from Arrington’s mouth. “Ow, you son of a bitch!” she screamed. A blow caught the side of her head and knocked her off the sofa. Her eyes were still taped, and she couldn’t see it coming.
    “Shut up until you’re spoken to,” Tommy Bruce said. “Does Barrington know where you are?”
    “Yes,” she said. “He’ll be here any minute.” She took another blow, to the other side of her head.
    “Don’t lie to me,” he said.
    “What do you think, Tommy?” Charlie asked. “Are we going to have a visit from Barrington?”
    “Nah,” Tommy said. “She just stopped by here for a minute to pick up something; she’s been living at his place. Isn’t that right, Arrington?”
    Arrington said nothing. She hunched up her shoulders, hoping to avoid another blow.
    “What are you doing now, Charlie?” Tommy asked. “I thought you wanted to fuck her.”
    “I’m just addressing Federal Express packets to the
New York Times
and the IRS,” Charlie replied. “As soon as we confirm the money’s in the bank, I’m going to ship them. I’m sending one to the cops, too, just for the hell of it.” Tommy laughed. “Why not? It’ll give us something to read about in the papers for months to come. I wish I could see Hickock’s face the first time the IRS calls.”
    “There,” Charlie said, “all done. Now, let’s have a look at Miss Arrington.”
    Arrington heard him coming toward her and she flinched in anticipation of another blow, but instead something clicked loudly, he grabbed her clothing, and she felt her blouse and bra being cut away.
    “Not bad,” Charlie said, pushing her prone on the couch. “Now let’s see the rest.”
    Arrington aimed a kick at his voice, but Tommy grabbed her ankles and held them while Charlie went to work on her skirt with his knife.
     
     
    A car pulled up around the corner from Arrington’s apartment building and two young men got out. They were sharply dressed and finely barbered, and they moved with complete confidence. They walked around the corner and into the building.
    Jimmy, the doorman, who was resting in a lobby chair, sprang to his feet. These men didn’t look as though they belonged in his building.
    “How ya doin’?” one of the men said as he swung a pistol at Jimmy’s head. He stepped over to the prone doorman and held the pistol to Jimmy’s forehead. “Answer me fast, or I’ll spread your brains all over this nice floor. Where’s the passkey for Nine-A?” “Desk drawer,” Jimmy managed to say. “There’s a tag on it.”
    The other man opened the drawer. “Got it,” he said. “We better take this guy with us.” He grabbed Jimmy by the collar, hustled him across the room, and dumped him into the elevator.
    “Nine, please,” his friend said, grinning. He hit Jimmy with his gun again, rendering him unconscious. Soon the elevator stopped on the ninth floor. He dragged the doorman so that his head lay in the path of the door. “That’ll hold the