“Hey… are you going to help me or not, Guster? Are you shunning me? Say something, you ungrateful prick.” Nick jogged with Deke to get abreast of Gus. “Will you relax? Compared to that hit on Abdul Nazari, this park deal isn’t even a blip on the radar. Consider the logistics we pulled off there, with the boat, the traitorous CIA guy, and my spending days nesting in place for the target in sand hell.”
“I know you’re right,” Gus replied. “We really do need some time off if you manage to do the deed as easily as you think.”
“Absolutely,” Nick agreed. “It will be strictly vacation and road trip time after Dafar hits the dusty road into hell. If he does take the bait, it won’t be until I establish a pattern walking alone with Deke. He could have a change of heart, and flee the city, but not likely. He still has a ridiculous United Nations gig to do next week. I’ll need you to be my eyes, Gus. We’ll be in constant contact during the walk. If you see Dafar and his punks begin following me and Deke into the park - that will be our trigger. Then you drive our rental over to 69th. I have to establish I’ll walk deep into the park at night before they’ll take the bait.”
“At least with us in contact the whole time I can watch your back. For a moment there, I thought you’d gone over the edge. Hell… you could take out Dafar anywhere after he leaves the city, and it would be a lot safer for us.”
“Ahhhhh… Guster, where’s the fun in that? Instead of doing some anti-American bullshit speech in front of all those parasites from third world cesspools, Dafar gets to be a Central Park mugging victim. What could be more ironic?”
“I’m not a big fan of irony, Muerto. Tomorrow will be a treat though. I’ve never been to a book signing before.”
“They can be splendid or a depressing nightmare. At the beginning of my bestseller run with ‘Diego’s Way’, I hit a bunch of the hotspots here in the city. The Diego fans were terrific. I scouted out each bookstore before I did my signing. One day I did the recon on a place called the Karma Bookstore. Beautiful place, but the woman author doing the signing that day sat at a table with her books piled around her. I browsed the bookstore, bought one of her books, and got her signature. I sat with her for a while. We discussed her writing. No one else approached her the whole time I was there. When I had my signing the day after, I was prepared. I brought my laptop to write while I sat at my table getting ignored. The line was out the door and down the street. I signed for hours, staying until the store closed. Then I went out on the sidewalk, and signed, talked, and had a great time. Gus… I never forgot that woman’s experience with a book signing though. Always prepare for the worst.”
“Did you like her book?”
“Yeah… it was a romance novel with vampires. I liked it. I wrote reviews for her everywhere she had it on sale online. It didn’t do well at all, and the publishing company dropped their marketing of her book. I think instead of continuing to write, she waited for the novel to take off. When it didn’t, I think she decided the writing gig wasn’t for her. Too bad though, because she could write, and her storytelling was captivating.”
“You could have helped her… you unfeeling bastard.”
Nick laughed. “It doesn’t work that way, Gus. If writing is something a person is doing strictly to make money, or become an instant literary success, disappointment awaits. I write the Diego novels because I love telling stories. I never quit writing while trying to garner a publisher or agent. I wrote the whole excruciating time while trying to get published. I had a day-job though, which nearly every writer needs to have unless they like living in a cardboard box. If I was starting out today, I’d go Indie, and publish my own novels.”
“Your day-job is whacked, pal.”
“Yep… writing and killing… hell of a career choice pair, huh?”
Gus smiled over at Nick, slowing down for a moment. “I can’t wait until we visit my brother and his wife. Those two have never recovered from your rescue. You saved their lives, but whenever I mention you in a phone conversation I can almost picture them making the sign of the cross.”
Nick shrugged. “Who can blame them? I’ll win them over with my family and Deke the dog. Who can resist that face?”
Deke had slowed too, looking back at his two companions with upright ears, and tilted head. After a moment though, he continued his search for the perfect smell in the snow.
“It’s no big deal if you can’t win them over,” Gus said. “In spite of that Jamaica rescue, both my brother Phil and the former Julie Butler are liberal through and through. Whatever happened to the old axiom that the only thing separating a liberal from a conservative was a mugging?”
“It’s a strange world we live in now, Gus. Personal responsibility is as dead as I hope to make Mohammed Dafar. I think we can survive family reunions without any trouble. We have scheduled book signings everywhere we’re stopping, and we’ll have our own luxury accommodations, including sippin’ whiskey.”