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“I have the key to the Room of Thirteen Doors. My girlfriend that you’re so worried about . . . we can hide in there. God can’t get in there. Lucifer can’t get in there. I bet the Angra can’t either. We can drink champagne in my own little bomb shelter while the rest of you are snacks for demon dogs.”
Wells doesn’t say anything. Candy winks at me. Matthew doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.
“I might be able to do a hundred-thousand-dollar consulting fee.”
“Not even close.”
“One and a half.”
“Nine.”
“Two and a half.”
“Eight.”
“Four.”
“Seven.”
“Five.”
“Six and a half.”
“Five and a half.”
“Deal,” I say.
“I’ll have to confirm with back east.”
“Tell them if anyone tries to lowball me, the Qomrama disappears with me and mine.”
Matthew yells, “Let me talk to the man.”
I put the phone on speaker and hold it out to him.
“Mr. Wells? It’s Matthew.”
“Matthew? You’re still alive? Stark really is getting soft.”
Matthew frowns. He’s not getting the sympathy he was hoping for.
“Listen, Mr. Wells, this psycho set me up. He robbed a drugstore and left my wallet behind.”
“And a gun,” I say.
“A gun? Matt, you know you’re not supposed to be carrying firearms. You just violated your parole.”
“I needed protection. You said you’d take care of me.”
“I said to get in touch with your ex and use her to get to Stark. Not to stalk and terrorize the girl. As far at the Marshal’s Service is concerned, you invalidated the terms of our agreement and we have no further obligation toward you.”
“You can’t hang me out to dry like this,” says Matthew.
“I think he can,” Candy says.
“We’re done, Matthew. Stark, take me off speaker.”
I push the button and put the phone back to my ear.
