Nemesis by Bill Pronzini Page B

he’d … he’d cut my throat. I don’t know where he came from, how he got into the building … he was just there, waiting for me.…”
    She paused, looking up at Runyon in a beseeching way. He said, “You get a clear look at him?”
    â€œNo, he was wearing … you know, one of those ski masks.”
    â€œRecognize his voice?”
    â€œNo. Gruff, deep … I don’t know. I was so scared.…”
    â€œThen what?”
    â€œHe made me let him in and show him where I kept the money, the ten thousand dollars … it was still in the backpack. He said he didn’t come for it at Lands End because he still didn’t trust me. He … he made me lie facedown on the floor and threw a blanket over me. The last thing he said before he went away was that I’d be hearing from him again. He wants more money, Jake … another ten thousand. If I don’t get it for him, he said … he said he’d come back again and kill me for sure.”
    Usually Runyon was slow to anger; it took a lot of situational pressure to build up heat, tighten his insides. Hot and tight now: it was an effort to maintain a blank-faced calm.
    â€œJake? What’s the matter?”
    He said, “The Q-Phone. Where is it?”
    â€œIn my purse. Why?”
    â€œGet it for me.”
    She hesitated, then stood and went to where her purse lay on the breakfast counter that separated the living room from the kitchenette. She found the Q-Phone, gave it to him. He shoved it into his coat pocket, and without looking at her, crossed to the table where the landline phone sat. The interface was still hooked to it and the Olympus recorder; he disconnected the wires, put both items into the same pocket with the Q-Phone.
    â€œWhat is it, Jake? Why did you do that?”
    â€œI’m finished here, that’s why.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? I don’t understand.…”
    â€œI’m not working for you anymore. Business terminated, as of now.”
    â€œTerminated? But you … you can’t just walk out on me after what happened here tonight.…”
    â€œNothing happened here tonight.”
    â€œI was almost killed!”
    â€œNo, you weren’t,” Runyon said. “Nobody grabbed you in the hallway, nobody put a knife to your throat, nobody came in here and took money from you.”
    â€œHow can you say that? He did, he did!”
    â€œThere’s no way an outsider could get into this building with the security as tight as it is.”
    â€œWell, maybe he lives here!”
    â€œThat won’t wash, either. Nobody who can afford to live in a place like this needs ten thousand dollars badly enough to run an extortion scam, or would risk picking a victim on his own turf if he did.”
    Sputtering noise in her throat. Violent headshake.
    Runyon said, “Security cameras on every floor. If you’d been grabbed in the hallway, the cameras would’ve recorded it and the guards would have been up here in two minutes.”
    â€œHe must have done something to the one on this floor—”
    â€œWorking just fine. George on the desk downstairs would’ve noticed if it hadn’t been, sent somebody up to see why.”
    â€œDamn you, Jake! Why won’t you believe I was attacked!”
    â€œThere’s not a mark on you. Clothing’s not disarrayed, makeup’s perfect, not a hair out of place.”
    â€œI told you, he didn’t cut me, he just threatened to. I showered, changed my clothes, combed my hair—”
    â€œAll of that even though you were so scared you couldn’t stop shaking? No, lady. Somebody holds a sharp knife pressed to your throat for any length of time, there’s bound to be nicks, scratches, you couldn’t wash away. Your throat is smooth. Get grabbed, held, muscled from behind, then thrown down on the floor, you’d have bruises, carpet