SKULL
wheel of his car and stowed his gun in the glove compartment. He hadn’t really needed it in the end. That was good. In fact, the entire mission had gone quite well. Clean. Efficient. His handiwork would never be noticed. Time to report to The Man.
He dialed, then turned the key in his ignition and calmly pulled out of the neighborhood. The phone rang four times. Had The Man already gone to bed?
At last, he picked up. “Yes?”
“I’m not waking you, am I?” Skull asked.
“No. It’s been a busy night.”
The abrupt way he said it—almost angrily—left Skull wondering what he meant. But in this line of business, you didn’t ask unnecessary questions. So why did he feel… concerned?
The Man must have sensed it. That didn’t surprise Skull. What did was the fact that The Man deigned to elaborate. “Bud was here. He tried to kill me.”
Skull’s grip convulsed on the wheel. “What—? Are you all right, sir?” What an idiot. Did Bud understand who he was messing with? He would wind up dead.
“I’m fine. Don’t think of it. Give me your report. Is the job done?”
“Yes. The house is fully bugged, inside and out.”
“The, ah—the devices. They’ll never be found?”
“Never.”
“Good. Good. Thank you.”
Skull thought The Man sounded either distracted or vaguely incoherent. How bad had the encounter been? Was he hurt? Or just planning Bud’s demise?
“I’ll be in touch,” said The Man. “I have another call to make. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
Skull let The Man hang up—it was good customer service—then dropped the hand with the phone into his lap.
The Plan felt off the tracks somehow. Did this change things? Then again, The Man was good at adjusting to the circumstances.
Skull had no idea what might happen next. He didn’t imagine it meant anything good for Bud Weber.