The Outfit by Richard Stark

mused, stroking his moustache.
    "He told Mr St Clair he was coming to see you next."
    "He did, eh?" Fairfax glanced around at his three bodyguards. He smiled again, with scornful amusement. "I think we're ready for him if he does come," he said. "Don't you?"
    "No."
    Parker fired through his pocket, and the heavy-set man who had let him in staggered back one step and fell over a table, scattering magazines to the floor. The twin brothers jumped to their feet, but Parker pulled the gun from his pocket and they stopped, frozen in midgesture. Fairfax backed up until his shoulders brushed the far wall; his face was pale and haggard, and his fingers now covered his moustache completely.
    Parker ordered the twins, "Pick him up. Fairfax, lead the way. Same bedroom as last time," The last time he had been here, they'd been bodyguards, too. They'd been locked in a bedroom while Parker said what he had to say.
    The twins went over to the man on the floor. One of them looked up, saying, "He isn't dead."
    "I know. I caught him in the shoulder. You can call a doctor after I leave here."
    Fairfax, looking stunned, led the way. The brothers followed, carrying the wounded man, and Parker came last. They went into the bedroom and the twins put the wounded man down on the bed. Fairfax pursed his lips at that, but didn't say anything.
    Parker said, "Guns on the floor. Move very slow and easy, and one at a time. You first."
    They did as they were told. Then Parker had them stand a few feet back from the wall, leaning on their hands, bodies off balance. He frisked them, finding nothing more on them. He relieved the wounded man of his gun, picked up the three guns in his left hand by their trigger guards, and motioned Fairfax to precede him out of the bedroom. Parker locked the door behind him. He and Fairfax went back to the living room.
    Fairfax had regained some of his composure. "I don't know what you hope to gain," he said. "You'll keep annoying us, and we'll keep hunting you. The end is inevitable."
    "Wrong. You aren't hunting me, I'm hunting you. Right now, I'm hunting Bronson."
    "You won't get at him as readily as you got at me."
    "Let me worry about that. This is the second time I've met up with you, Fairfax, and you can live through it this time too, if you cooperate."
    "Whatever you want, it's beyond my power to give it to you."
    "No, it isn't. I want two things. I want to know where Bronson is now and where he'll be for the next week or two. And I want to know who in the Outfit is slated to take over if anything happens to Bronson."
    Fairfax's smile was shaky. "It would be worth my life to tell you either of those things."
    "You won't have any life left if you don't. I got your body guards out of the way so you could tell me without anybody knowing. I'm making it easy on you."
    "I'm sorry. This time you'll just have to kill me." His voice had a quaver in it, but he met Parker's eyes and he kept his hand away from his moustache.
    Parker considered. Then he said, "All right, we'll make it easier than that. You know who's next in line after Bronson. I want to get in touch with you."
    "Why?"
    "You listen, and you'll find out. What's his name?"
    Fairfax thought it over. His hand came up stealthily and lingered at his moustache. He said, finally, as though to himself, "You want to make a deal. All right, there's no harm in that. It's Walter Karns."
    "Can you call him now?"
    "I imagine he's at his place in Los Angeles."
    "Phone him."
    Fairfax got on the phone. Karns wasn't at the first two places he tried. Fairfax finally got in touch with him in Seattle, and said, "Hold on a second." He hadn't identified himself.
    Parker took the phone. "Karns?"
    "Yes?" It was a rich voice, a brandy-and-cigar voice. "Who is it?"
    "I'm Parker. Ever hear of me?"
    "Parker? The Parker who's been causing all that trouble in the East?"
    "That's the one."
    "Well, well, well. To what do I owe the honour?"
    "If anything happens to Bronson, you're in, right?"
    "What?