The man was a pig, Smythe thought, trying to keep the conclusion from being so obvious on his face. If Carl Andretti weren’t vitally necessary for this scheme, he would have been dumped long ago. He still needed him for a few more days, until the end of the week when all their hard work would pay off so very handsomely.

“Take it easy, Carl,” Smythe said, his voice soothing. “Whatever the reason, whoever sent them, their mission was to scare you. To scare you and me. If their intention was to kill you, I assure you the gulls would be picking at your carcass right now.”

Andretti swallowed hard.

“Gee, thanks a hell of a lot! That’s a comfort!” he bellowed, and took a gulp so big from the tumbler that some of it spilled from the sides of his mouth and streaked the front of his filthy dress shirt. His face was transforming from pasty pale to an unhealthy blotchy color. The alcohol had started to take effect, his mood segueing from terror to anger.

“Tell you what, then,” Smythe said obligingly. “Let’s ring up Mark Stern and get this straightened out once and for all.”

“Rather have my hands around that slimy little bastard’s throat in person and be squeezing real hard while I asked him a few pointed questions.” His words were slurred now. He took another swallow, emptying the tumbler, then leaned over and grabbed the bottle for a refill, almost tipping over his chair and the end table in the process.

Smythe reached for the phone resting on the coffee table, but it jangled before he touched it. He frowned as he picked up the receiver. “Cheryl, I thought I told you we were not to be disturbed, no matter—”

Cheryl Mitchell, his assistant, interrupted. “Mr. Smythe, Mark Stern is on the phone, line one. He sounds very upset, as usual, and demands to speak to you immediately. Shall I tell him you’re in conference with Mr. Andretti?”

Smythe raised his eyebrows, his frown deepening. “No, no. Put him on.”

He punched the button to switch them to the speakerphone, swallowed once, and somehow managed an ingratiating tone when he spoke. He might just as well have been talking to a valued client.

“Mark, talk of the devil. We were just getting ready to call you. Carl is here with me and we need to discuss something with you.”

Stern bellowed through the phone, his voice shrill as it spilled from the speaker. “No shit we need to talk! I just got off the phone with my source at the SEC. What are you bastards trying to prove now? I thought we had an understanding after our little visit the other day, Smythe. Are you stupid bastards still trying to sneak something past me?”