Ded Reckoning by William F Lee

gets no response, accordingly he continues, "She will be working with you.  Will pass herself off as not only your landlady but as your typist and editor.  Well, pass herself off is not descriptive.  She is a great steno, and writes well." Another pause.  More silence. Joe continues, "An author needs help.  And she's good at this, and other things."
    "What other things?"  Hunter exhales audibly.  "Never mind.  Don't answer that.  So, all this shit has been going on behind my back.  She is, or was, Sam's backup?  Right?"
    Zachary hesitates and says, "Not exactly.  If anything, more the other way around."
    "Well, hell, Joe.  I fucked the wrong one.  Right?"
    "Hunter, you said  ... oh, shit, never mind.  Listen."
    Hunter exhales, and settles on the flip stool, holding the phone away from his ear, staring at the handset.  He takes in a deep breath.  Lets it out slowly and interrupts whatever Joe was saying, "You're saying that Sam worked for her?  And Dee works for you and MacBeer?  Right?  A woman, a widow, regardless of how it ... with two kids is involved in all this crap.  ARE YOU NUTS? "
    "Hawk, I wish it weren't so.  Not necessary but we have to keep tabs on her to wrap this up. She is the mystery woman and can damn well take care of herself, and she has.  You need to remember that.  She can play any role, and has.  And incidentally, she's a damn good shot.  You need to remember that as well although she doesn't have to be ... would just be a few feet."
    "A few feet. I won't do this.  Not with her tagging along."  He pauses, then continues.  "Wasn't there something fishy, more than fishy, with her husband's death?  I remember hearing rumors."  He pauses for several moments.  Then, "You know something.  Mystery woman my ass.  She's hooked in with ..."
    "Not now.  We'll talk about this more when you get here.  Without her.  She'll go ahead."  Then he pauses, and his tone of voice takes on a harsh command timbre.   "You will do this or you're out.  Now.  So, is it yes or no?  Stay or go?  I'm busy and getting tired of your one-liners and bitching.  We have a mission to complete and that's all I'm interested in and you better be also."
    Hunter stares at the phone.  He's sweating. The closet is making him claustrophobic, or he's back in a flak jacket listening to assholes in starched jungle utilities.  He remembers something an old sea dog Captain told him when he was a Second Lieutenant.  "Decisions made by someone above you in the chain of command will seldom be in your best personal interest."  He shakes his head and takes in a deep breath.   Something's sure not right here.  But!  What would my father have done?  Execute the orders?  And me?  Take Hill 22, or 46, or 229 or 881 or whatever.  Does it make a difference?  Not if you're in the fight. His mind running full throttle shifts into the gunfighter's gear.   Always cheat...always win...if you're in the fight.  The world remembers Joe Louis.  No one remembers Tony Galento.  
    Am I in the fight?  Yes. Therefore kill everyone in sight.   He remembers another gunfighter's rule and mutters it aloud.  "The faster you finish the fight, the less shot you will get."
    Joe says, "What was that?"
    "Nothing. Okay, I'm in, but..."
    "No buts.  Yes or No?  Now."
    "Yes.  In.  Who is Oboe?"
    "Never heard of him."
    "You sent him.  He spoke on your behalf."
    "Told you, I never heard of him.  Didn't send anyone.  Now let's get on with the task at hand."
    Hunter snarls, "Okay.  Good.  Then I have your permission to kill this ghost of Ichabod Crane next time I see him."
    "Whatever twitches your trigger finger, teammate."  
    "Great team, right?  It's always we until the throwin' of hands start."
    "It is a team.  The two of us.  Just like always."
    "Yeah, and you