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“But I don’t.”
“Much to my dismay.”
Quay makes an exaggerated sad face.
“Were you doing business with Declan Garrett? You should be more careful. He tried to blow you up.”
Quay waves a dismissive hand.
“I would never do business with Declan. He’s a crook. Anyway, I knew he didn’t have it.”
“How?”
“Because he offered it to me at a good price. He would never have done that if he’d had it.”
Quay leans on the cane and the arm of the sofa and slowly pushes himself to his feet. I almost want to help the old creep, but I have a feeling if I moved an inch, I’d have a bunch of cracked vertebrae courtesy of the two meat mountains in the corners.
Quay makes it over to his desk. There’s a bottle of brown booze on the far end.
“Have a drink with me, Stark.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“I don’t care if you’re thirsty. We’re going to do business and business is done over drinks.”
“You don’t have any Aqua Regia, do you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then Jack Daniel’s.”
He laughs.
“Of course that’s what you drink.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s what you drank as a young man, but because of your unique circumstance, you never had the chance to grow out of it.”
“I guess you could call Hell a unique circumstance. But like everything, it gets boring. I mean you can only be terrified for so long, right?”
He pours himself a drink in a heavy crystal tumbler.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m never scared. My obscene wealth insulates me from that kind of thing.”
“Is that why I’ve never heard of you?”
He sips his drink.
“Some people use their money to get on the Forbes list of richest people. Others use it to stay off.”
“It must be fun having options like that.”
“It is,” and he gives me a smile that makes him look twenty years younger. “Get Mr. Stark his Jack Daniel’s.”
One of the Titans steps away from the wall and leaves the room.
I say, “Do you know what the 8 Ball is?”
