The Greek’s fury raged across his face. “Yeah? And what did his father do for him? I’ve known that kid seven years but never even heard hehada father till you popped up on the street this afternoon.”
“He didn’t tell you about me because of what I used to do.”
“What’s that?” Maragos looked around. The answer slowly came to him. “Kill?”
“Aye.” Coyle waited a beat, then said, “I’m going to say a word to you…I want you to tell me if that word means anything to you at all.”
“What is this? A game?”
Coyle shrugged. “Sure. It’s just a game. You ready?”
The man in the chair said, “What’s the word?”
“Whetstone.”
Silence in the room other than a truck rumbling outside. Maragos’s eyes went distant; he was thinking, and then they sharpened as something came to him.
After several seconds he spoke softly, “Ochi.”No.
Campbell Coyle nodded solemnly.
“You?You are Whetstone?”
“Was once. Thinkin’ might still be, yeah?”
“Charlie never said you—”
“Charlie did not know my code name. He knew I was an assassin for the Irish, for the Brits. He knew I became a killer for hire.”
Maragos had lost all the anger from his face; all the fear, as well. He marveled. “You…well…your reputation precedes.
“Wait.” Marcus seemed to think a moment, and then his face cleared. “There’s something going on in America right now. They need men. Not typical security, but the very best operators. Willing to do hard jobs. No questions, no quarter. I’ve heard of it. I have no one in my stable I can send, not even someone with whom I can bid the contract. The work is now, they’re scrambling, but not accepting anyone second-tier. But…I’m thinking…how about you? I reach out to the Americans and tell them I have Whetstone, one of the best killers for hire of the past generation…I mean…You’re old. What? Sixty? Still…Whetstone.”
Coyle did not respond.
Maragos shrugged. “You’ve obviously still got the goods. If others know about your reputation, others can vouch for you, well then, I can connect you. You can make so much bloody money. Webothcan, mate.”
“You made the last of your bloody money with my Charlie.”
“You…you need me to—”
Coyle rose, waved a hand in the air. “I didn’t expect to get answers tonight. I only needed you to see if I can kill. I don’t believe in revenge. I do, however, strongly believe in training. I was worried I didn’t have what it takes, but standing right here in front of my next victim, it all feels very natural, very comfortable.”
Coyle’s lips twitched, a half-second smile, before they relaxed again. “All’s right in my world, Marcus.”
“Think about this offer. The job could pay you millions. Literally, millions. Nothing will bring Charlie back, and I didn’t kill him, the American did.”
“Youbothdid, and you’re both gonna pay.”
“You’re a talented man, Coyle. You’re fucking crazy if you don’t take this work I’m offering you.”
The Irishman said, “I’m beginning to think I’m the most sane man on this planet, except for the decade I kept my head down and minded mymanners like I was bloody mad. But those days are over, chief. Starting now.”
He raised the long knife.
Maragos tried to stand, but Coyle just shoved him back down in the chair. The Greek said, “Please.Please. I saw how you let that girl go. I know you are a man with a heart.”
“Her name was Aida. Did you not catch it?” Coyle sniffed. “I’ve a heart for a silly girl who met the wrong bloke on the wrong night. I’ve no heart for the man who sent my son off to his death.”
