TMB (XV): A Short History of Everything (II)

Again, I sat on the kitchen table, this time with had a glass, filled with a good shot of amber-coloured liquid.

They had killed Koesthler. That was the only way they could know about me.

They had followed me around. That was the only way they could know about Mr. X.

They had my girlfriend and were using her to pressure me.

They did not have my girlfriend. But they knew about her. They must have observed me, and tried to make me believe they had her, to pressure me.

What did they want? Well, Mr. X for sure. They wanted me to continue what I was doing. They wanted the information on Speyar to be found, by me. So they were not working for Speyar.

Or they were working for Speyar, and were trying to locate possible leaks, and I was supposed to find them for them.

Or they were agents of any of the other firms in the weapons industry, about which we'd delivered Mr. X with information.

How much did they know about me? How long had they been following me?

Our business worked on the premise of inconspicuousness. That was dead beat now. No way to re-establish it with those brutes on my heels.

They hadn't told me what they wanted actually. So they were counting on me to deliver it anyway, inevitably. I didn't even know myself what I was supposed to deliver. They were one step ahead of me.

Correction: I knew what I was supposed to deliver, at least to Mr. X. But I didn't know how to, at least since Mr. Koesthler's untimely death.

Whatever it was they wanted from me, it had nothing to do with Speyar. They could have roasted Koesthler themselves. I was sure they were capable of this. Very professional charisma. They would do whatever was necessary.

So they wanted me to find out something or someone they weren't able to find out themselves. Or they were aiming at Mr. X – but why kill Koesthler, when they knew of me anyway? Why not let me get the information of his and lead them to Mr. X right away?

Except they'd only learned of me from Koesthler. But why kill him?

I didn't know. But there was a picture beginning to form in my mind. I supported it by a good dram of whisky.

Finally, I did what I should have done long ago. I phoned the directory inquiries.