McDeere. They're in the shop for a couple of minutes. Our man walks
by and looks inside. Next minute they're fighting on the street.
Something isn't right, I tell you.'
The partners thought for a while. Finally, Oliver Lambert said,
'Look, DeVasher, it's possible that McDeere is telling the truth and
that your man got the wrong signals. You don't know of any contact
since last August.'
'No, but we can't watch anybody absolutely all the time. We didn't
know about those other two until it was almost too late.'
'But because you don't know of any recent contact, you shouldn't
doubt what McDeere's saying.'
'I'm not sure,' said DeVasher. 'I think McDeere and I should have a
little talk.'
'About what?' Lambert asked nervously.
'Just leave it to me. If you fools were in charge of security we'd all
be in prison by now. Lazarov is getting really worried, but he thinks
he can get someone in the FBI to talk. Then we'll know whether
McDeere is lying.'
♦
Mitch was alone in his office late that night when a short, fat man
walked in. 'My name's DeVasher,' he said.
'What can I do for you?' Mitch asked.
'You can listen for a while. I'm in charge of security for the firm . .
.'
'Why does the firm need security?' Mitch asked.
'Bendini was crazy about security. Anyway, we believe the FBI are
trying to get a man inside the firm to help in their investigations of
some of our clients. It's important that you tell us whenever they
attempt to make contact with you.'
'Yes, I already know that.'
Suddenly DeVasher was smiling evilly. 'I brought something with
me to show you,' he said. 'Something that will keep