Chapter 100
LESTER OLSEN HAD lost his boyishness and his humor, and the man that remained was scaring her half to death.
“What just happened, Val?”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong, Lester?”
“I’m a poker player, Val. One of the best. You know what a tell is? It’s when someone gives himself away with an unconscious movement. Like what you just did when you touched yourself. That was a classic tell.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you know what? I don’t think this is for me—”
Val pushed her chair back, but she was up against the wall and there was nowhere to go.
“You did that at dinner the other night,” Olsen said, tapping the middle of his own chest with his third finger, “and I ignored it. See how you put your water bottle between us? Another tell. I shouldn’t have second-guessed myself. I bet you’re wearing a wire.”
He put his crippled hands at either side of the V-neck of her blouse.
“If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize.”
Fabric tore. Val gasped and tried to cover herself, but Olsen forced her hands aside and plucked the mic off her bra. Then, in one smooth movement, he reached around, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a gun. He put the mic on his desk and shattered it with the butt of his gun.
Val’s mind spun. She reached for a plausible explanation, then launched it. “Lester. Let me explain. I’m a reporter. I’m doing a story on how to land a wealthy man. That’s all. The story is going to be good for you.”
“Who are you working for?”
“San Francisco Chronicle.”
“Who’s the publisher?”
Val sputtered nonsense, then tried to get out of the chair as Olsen swung his hand and slammed the side of the gun into her jaw. Val fell back into the seat, put her hands to her face, and stifled a cry of pain.
“Who’s on the other end of the mic?”
“FBI. My people have been listening. They’ll be in here any second now. I suggest you back away from me and figure out how you’re going to explain what you’ve just done.”
“Shut up, Val, and don’t bother lying to me. You’re an amateur and I can spot your lies before they hatch.”
He lifted her purse from where it hung at the back of her chair and emptied it onto the desk with one hand. He turned off the recorder and the phone, put both in his pocket.
“Stand up,” he said.
Val gripped the arms of the chair. She said, “Nothing has happened, Lester. I was taping into my purse. Let me go and I’ll say I walked into a wall and I’ll forget I ever met you.”
“Stand up. Put your hands behind your back,” he said. “Or I’ll kill you right here and right now.”