Jackie Brown (29 page)

"Less ten percent," Max said.

"Yeah, your fee. I had to figure that out, since there wasn't a note, no explanation. Only this isn't a bail bond, Max."

"I hesitated taking that much."

"You worked for it-if that's all you want."

He felt awkward sitting here; he thought if he didn't say much he'd be okay. She'd realize he understood how it was. But she didn't make it easy the way she was looking at him, with that gleam in her eyes. She said, "I thought you were quitting the business," and he shrugged.

"I don't know."

"How old are you, Max?"

It surprised him, because she knew.

"Fifty-seven."

"And you don't know what you want?"

He could answer that, but he hesitated and she said, "I know what I want. I'm leaving, I have my things in the car. Why don't you walk out with me? I want to show you something." Still he hesitated and she said, "Come on, Max. I won't hurt you." She smiled.

So he smiled and got up from the desk. He didn't want to; he felt let down. Still, he'd prepared himself and was resigned, sensing all along and despite moments of optimism this was the way it would end, if it ever got this far. Or if in fact, thinking of Nicolet, they were all the way out of it.

She said, "I saw Ray at the hospital the other day, when I went to visit Faron."

It amazed him and made him think of the time she said they were alike. Their minds working the same way.

Jackie saying, as they walked through the front office and he held the door for her, "Ray's working in a new area, looking for all kinds of weapons the Desert Storm soldiers are bringing back as souvenirs, Russian AK-47s, he said even live hand grenades. They found four pounds of plastic explosive one of the guys shipped home to his wife and she showed it to a neighbor, not having any idea what it was."

They walked along the front of the building. "And, he's after a guy who owns a gun shop he says is 'woefully and wantonly' selling assault rifles to minors. He actually used those words. He called the guy who owns the gun shop a 'whackjob' and said he's going to take him down if it's the last thing he does."

"Did you tell Ray you were leaving?"

"I told him I might. His ex-wife was with him. Anita. Attractive but, well, a little overdone."

Max had the feeling he'd missed something. Maybe they should sit down and talk and he'd ask her questions. But they came around the corner of the building to the lot and he was looking at a black Mercedes convertible with its top down. He said, "That's Ordell's."

"I'm borrowing it," Jackie said. "They confiscated his Volkswagen, with the money in it. This one's sort of left over, you might say. The registration's in the glove box." She looked at Max for a moment. "What's the matter? Haven't you ever borrowed someone's car?"

He said, "Not after they're dead."

She walked around to the other side and looked across the low black Mercedes at him. "Come on, Max. I'll take you away from all this."

"Dealing with scum," Max said, "and trying to act respectable." He saw Jackie frown, her nice eyes narrowing for a moment. "That's how Ordell described my situation."

"And you like it?" Jackie said. Max hesitated.

"Where would we go?"

"I don't know," Jackie said, and he saw her eyes begin to smile. "Does it matter?"

ELMORE LEONARD has written thirty-four novels, including such bestsellers as Cuba Libre, Out of Sight, Riding the Rap, Pronto, Maximum Bob, Get Shorty, and Glitz. Many of his books have been made into movies and he has written numerous screenplays. He lives with his wife, Christine, in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.