Body Guard Read Free Page A

and Bunch shifted restlessly on the narrow seat of the car. One of his shoulders and an arm hung over the door’s padded lip. The other shoulder jammed against Kirk’s and made it hard for him to shift. “If the only dope around is pot, Chris should be able to smell it,” Bunch said.
    “Unless they’re smoking it outside in their cars or at the motor pool.”
    “I don’t know, Dev. That crap sticks like a whore’s perfume. You can smell it in people’s clothes and hair.” He added, “I still think I should have been the one to go in.”
    “Let’s give him a chance, Bunch. He has to learn sooner or later.”
    “Sure, sure. I’m willing if Reznick is. He’s the one paying the bill.”
    Which, Kirk knew, might be a problem. The regional manager for Advantage Corp. had urged haste in the investigation and hadn’t been especially pleased to learn it might take four to six weeks. Now he had to be told it might take longer if there was an extensive network in the plant. Reznick was a decisive executive. He wanted things done and he wanted them done yesterday, by God. And, he made it clear, he didn’t tolerate screw-ups. But in the long run, Kirk believed, it would be cheapest to do the job right, and that was what he intended to advise the man.

CHAPTER 2
    M R. H UMPHRIES HAD been told nine o’clock. He was on time. Kirk wasn’t. Humphries waited restlessly, feeling awkward and embarrassed to have everyone who passed on the second-floor landing glance at him and guess his business. The darkened glass of the door said only “Kirk and Associates,” but Humphries felt people knew it was the office of a private investigator. And they knew he was in trouble. Probably scorned him for needing help, just as he had secretly scorned others for their weaknesses or illnesses. He glanced at his Rolex and promised himself three minutes more, max. Then he was out of here. This had been Mitsuko’s idea in the first place, not his. She was the one who kept bringing up those worrisome what-ifs. She even seemed to enjoy it. It was a cultural thing, he knew—the Chrysanthemum and the Sword view of the world. At least he had to view it that way, because in other ways—so many of them—she was the woman who fulfilled his every dream. In fact, he could feel—just standing here and thinking about her— a gentle tightening between his legs, that strange clenching she knew so well how to stimulate. And then equally well how to relieve. Still, she wasn’t standing here in public making a fool of herself.
    Hurrying shoes ran up the iron stairway and echoed in the atrium that formed the center of the remodeled warehouse. Mr. Humphries saw a tall man, younger than himself, take the stairs two at a time. It was, he guessed, the dilatory Mr. Kirk, and Humphries wasn’t all that impressed with what he saw.
    A bit late from the morning workout, Devlin sprinted up the stairs toward the man who stood tensely beside the office door. Bunch was still jogging on the Cherry Creek bike path and would reach the office in half an hour or so. With the kind of business Kirk and Associates catered to—industrial security was supposed to be their specialty—few clients came to the office. Most of the contacts came in over the telephone, and then either Bunch or Devlin would follow up with a visit to the prospective customer’s office. Moreover, the phone answerer and fax machine stood watch twenty-four hours a day, so their sense of opening and closing was fairly casual. Which, Kirk supposed, had irritated the slender man in the expensive gray suit, because he let Kirk see him glance at his gold watch as he unlocked the door.
    “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Humphries.” He motioned to the only visitor’s chair in the room and opened panels in the window to air out the overnight stuffiness. The red message light blinked on the recorder, and Kirk rewound the tape and turned it off as he sat down. “You say you need a bodyguard?”
    Humphries was