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47
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Mort, still standing in the middle of his hotel room in nothing but a towel with half of his face covered in shaving cream sighed upon hearing Balkan's voice. He'd grown to loathe the man.
"Problems?" Balkan asked.
Mort raised an eyebrow. Since when did Balkan want to hear of Mort's problems?
"Yeah, someone tried to total me a couple times. Aside from that, did you know that two people have died on me since I took this job now?"
"I don't follow you," Balkan replied.
"It's simple enough. You give me 'The Nine Gates' and they start dropping like flies. You know, I'm thinking of giving it back," Mort explained.
"Who are you talking about?" Balkan asked.
"My pal Bernie Feldman, for one," Mort replied.
"The book dealer? He's dead too?" Balkan asked, sounding somewhat interested in the situation.
"Yeah. Murdered. He was holding your book for me. Someone was after it. He wouldn't give it to them," Mort explained.
There was a moment of silence. Then Mort could hear Balkan on the other line lightly chuckling. The chuckle became stronger and then he was laughing. The laugh gave way to peal after peal of uproarious laughter. Mort stood, staring blankly at the hotel room wall, waiting for Balkan to finish. Balkan's laughter gradually became less and less.
Still chuckling, lightly, Balkan spoke up. "Poor fellow. Very creditable of him."
Mort refrained from commenting on the outburst. "Then there's Fargas. But I already told you about him."
"Yes. A terrible loss," Balkan said with little sympathy in his voice. "What about the Kessler copy? You went to the meeting I set up, surely."
"The old woman says it's authentic, but I didn't get a chance to look at it closely. As soon as she guessed you were behind my visit she threw me out. You aren't her flavor of the month," Mort explained.
"You must see her again. You must get me that copy," He persisted. His tone of voice then changed to something a bit sad. "You must examine it, at least."
"Are you kidding? I'd have to be the Invisible Man. She threw me out last time like a bag of trash," Mort said.
"You can do it. I'm counting on you, Mr. Corso," Balkan replied.
"Hey, speaking of my meeting, where were you yesterday? You never showed up for ours," Mort said. He heard a click and then the dial tone. Balkan had hung up. Mort shrugged and replaced the receiver. He pushed back his hair and took a step forward.
The phone rang. Mort stopped in his tracks, turned around, and stared at the phone which was covered by Shooter's hat which was now not encased in the garbage bag as it had been before.
He realized that was the reason he had not recognized Shooter at first during their little brawl earlier.
The phone rang again. He sat on the couch and took the hat off of the phone. The phone rang again.
He really should've unplugged it.
He picked up the receiver. "What do you want now, Balkan?" Mort asked, annoyed.
"Go to the woods behind the hotel. Walk down the path a little way," a voice filled with a heavy Mississippi accent instructed.
Mort realized who it was and gulped. "Why?" He asked, nervously.
"I'll catch up with you this afternoon. Anybody you call between now and then is your responsibility," Shooter explained and hung up.
Mort replaced the receiver back slowly, thinking. He got up and stood still in the middle of the room once more. He was not going to let some loser ruin his day. "Now, where was I?" Mort asked, walking through the room.
He paused in front of a mirror and examined his reflection. He presumed that he was looking pretty damn hot.
He bent his arm up in a flexing position and examined what little muscle he had on his arm. With the free hand, he rubbed down along his smooth chest.
In the reflection, he focused on the background. He saw the floor waiter from before standing in the open doorway, looking at him as though he were crazy.
Mort quickly put his arms down and turned around to the floor waiter. He smiled embarrassedly at him.
"I came to collect your plates, Monsieur, but obviously you are busy with more important things," The waiter said, closed the door, and left.
Mort, red in the face, walked back to the bathroom and finished shaving.