Drex turned his head and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
“South Carolina,” Mike said. “Mount Pleasant. Suburb of—”
“Charleston. I know. What name is he going by?”
“Un-huh.”
That brought Drex all the way around. “Excuse me? What does that mean?”
Gif said, “Means that you’re not getting a name until we know what you plan to do with the information.”
“What the hell do you think I plan to do with it? First thing is to haul ass to Charleston.”
Gif exchanged a look with Mike, then pushed himself away from the wall and squared off against Drex. He didn’t take a combative stance, which would have been laughable because Drex was physically imposing and Gif was nowhere near. But he set his feet apart and braced himself as though Drex’s self-restraint was iffy and reasonableness was way too much to hope for.
He said, “Hear me out, Drex. Mike and I talked about it on our way over here. We think you should consider…That is, it would be advisable to…The smart course of action would be to—”
“What?”
“Notify Rudkowski.”
“Not a fucking chance in hell.”
“Drex—”
Louder and with more emphasis, Drex repeated his statement.
Mike shot Gif a droll glance. “Told ya.”
Drex’s ears had begun to clamor after all. Now that the reality was setting in, his blood pressure had spiked. The window glass had felt cold against his forehead because his face was feverish. The blood vessels in his temples were throbbing. His scalp was sweaty beneath his hair. His torso had gone clammy.
He pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the bed, wrestled off the shoulder holster and dropped it on top of his jacket, loosened the knot of his necktie, and unbuttoned his collar, all as though he were preparing for a sparring match, which, if necessary, this argument might result in.
Willing himself to at least sound composed, he asked again, “What name is he using?”
“Assuming it’s him,” Mike said.
“You assume it’s him, or you wouldn’t have suggested this secret meeting. Tell me what you have on him, starting with his name.”
“No name.”
Mike Mallory was an all-star when it came to excavating information from a computer, but a people person he wasn’t. He harbored a general contempt for his fellow man, considering most to be complete morons, Drex and Gif being the only possible exceptions.
He was so good at what he did that Drex put up with his truculent attitude and lack of social graces, but right now he muttered an epithet that encompassed both Mike and Gif, who, on this p
oint, had taken Mike’s side.
“Fine,” Mike said, “call us nasty names. We’re thinking in your best interest.”
“I’ll think for myself, thank you.”
“After you hear everything, you may decide against taking matters into your own hands.”
“I won’t.”
Mike shrugged. “Then it’ll be your funeral. But I’m not digging your grave, and I’m sure as hell not climbing in with you. Fair warning.”
“Fair enough. I’ll find out his frigging name myself. Just put me on the right track.”