Read The Bannerman Effect (The Bannerman Series) Online
Authors: John R. Maxim
“You don't want to see her get hurt.”
“Just so, yes.”
”I couldn't hurt her. Not ever.”
Urs Brugg raised his glass, saluting Lesko with it. He sipped. He seemed relieved that this one subject, at least, had been successfully raised and disposed of.
Lesko was no less relieved. A part of him
would
have
bet
his pension that Urs Brugg's first words to him would have ranged somewhere between “How much will you take to get out of the country and never come back?” and “Where do you get off, you mountain of shit, thinking you belong in the same world with her, let alone the same bed?”
“May I speak frankly, Mr. Lesko? Man to man?”
Lesko nodded.
Here it comes,
he thought.
Urs Brugg squirmed in his seat. “It is a subject best brought up by her mother or father. It seems I will have to do in their place.”
Lesko stared blankly.
“The first casualty of wealth, Mr. Lesko, and certainly of power, is trust in the motives of one's friends.”
Lesko darkened, this time in anger. “She has nothing I want,” he said quietly. “Neither do you.”
“Which is zero. Or close to it.”
Urs Brugg sat back, frowning. “Is it possible, Mr. Lesko,” he asked, “that you do indeed have such a low opinion of yourself?”
“Not in most ways. No.”
“But in terms of what Elena sees in you—the answer is yes?”
Lesko hesitated. Then he nodded.
“You place no value on courage? Loyalty? Strength of character?”
“In a friend? I place a lot of value. But this isn't about friendship. This is about taking care of somebody who's used to more than I can give her.”
“You're saying you approve of this?”
“With reservations, to be sure. But yes.” Once more, Urs Brugg glanced in the direction of the kitchen. He moved his chair closer. “Will you listen to a proposition, Mr. Lesko?”
”I won't take your money.”
Brugg's expression hardened. ”I am not about to bribe you. Do not insult me.”
“Then I'm sorry. Go ahead.”
“Will you take me at my word that I would have made this offer regardless of what has happened today between yourself and Elena? And that the offer will stand regardless of what happens in the future?”
“Okay. Yes.”
Urs Brugg lowered his eyes. He fingered the armrest of his wheelchair as he considered the best way to begin. “Behind the main railroad station—you were there this morning —there is a park called the Platzspitz. Did you happen to see it?”
Lesko shook his head.
Lesko said nothing.
“Six thousand syringes,” Urs Brugg repeated, “for the nearly twenty thousand addicts who infest this city. Do these numbers not startle you, Mr. Lesko?”
“Their position is that they would prefer not to waste their energies going after the ordinary drug user. They want the dealers. In the meantime, Switzerland is very likely to become the first European nation to decriminalize the use and possession of small amounts of narcotics.”
Lesko waited.
“You have seen what has happened to New York. It is a rotting, angry place where the rich live in bunkers and all others live in fear. It is drugs that have done this. In a few years, if nothing is done, every city in Europe will have followed that path.”
But the real problem is what happens when supply outpaces demand and those prices drop. In the last two years they'd gone from about $55 thousand per kilo to between $25 and $30. When it gets down to the $8 to $13 range, as it has in New York, it's cheap enough to be worth turning into crack. And crack is a disaster. Eighty percent addictive compared to only 10 or 15 percent for cocaine in powder form. And addiction comes not in months or years but in days. Creating thousands of new street criminals every year in every city. It was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. Zurich had maybe five ... six years before it was just as unlivable as New York.
“And you want to save Europe?” Lesko asked, without sarcasm.
“Not Europe. Only Zurich. My home.”
“You and who else?”
“My family. A few friends. You, perhaps.”
“What about your cops?”
“Some of them as well. A select few.”
“What do you think I can do for you, exactly?”
“Teach us how to hurt them. These are the same people who destroyed New York. You know them. How they operate. How they think. I wish to retain your services, Mr. Lesko. What I ask is not so far removed from your present position. You are, I understand, a security consultant for the Beckwith Hotel chain in New York.”
“What the Beckwith chain hired,” Lesko pointed out, “was a retired cop who knows about sneak thieves and hookers. They don't want anybody hurt. I think you do.”
“If that's what is needed, yes.”
Lesko shook his head. “You don't want me. I'm not a killer. For that, you want Bannerman.”
”I am aware of the difference between you and Mr. Bannerman, although I think it is not so great as you choose to believe.”
“Then why did you tell him and not me about those three who shot Elena?”
“For her sake. For your safety.”
“She's your niece, not his. The driver was your nephew, not his. Why did you send Bannerman?”
“One does not
send
Mama's Boy. But I knew he would go. Dr. Russo was his friend, not mine.”
“So why wouldn't you ask him to do this other thing? Cleaning up Zurich. For that matter, why wouldn't you ask Elena? She knows how they work better than I do.”
Urs Brugg ignored the question about Elena. “Because Paul Bannerman, by all accounts, is in no way sympathetic to the plight of the cities. His feeling is that any populace
that has a drug problem has probably deserved it. He may have a point.”
”I might even agree with him.”
Lesko had no patience at all with militant antismokers. He saw them as bullies. And gutless. They were the kind who only took up negative causes. Nice, safe causes. And only when they were in a nice, safe majority: ”I don't do this, so you shouldn't either. And while we're at it, let's take
Playboy
magazine, which I don't read either, off the stands.”
“Mr. Lesko?”
”Hmm?” His mind had wandered.
”I have set aside a rather large sum of money. If you will help me in this, it is yours to draw on as you see fit. If you will not, I will proceed without you.”
”I asked if you talked to Elena. You didn't answer.”
“The fact is”—another glance toward the kitchen—“this was her idea.”
“What was?” Lesko asked. “Hammering your local drug dealers or getting me involved?”
“Both.”
“If that's true, why do you keep looking to see if she's listening?”
“Because she might have changed her mind. Her desire to follow Mr. Bannerman's Westport example is just as strong as mine. That much will surely remain. Her suggestion that I recruit you, while sensible enough in itself, may have been rooted in a desire to lure you back to Zurich. But now, you see, you've come of your own accord. I think she will now ask that I not involve you, just as she asked that I not tell you where those assassins can be found.”
“Wait a second.” Lesko raised a hand. “Let's take that piece by piece. You're telling me that Elena's in this Zurich thing no matter what?”
“Unless you dissuade her. My hope is that you will join her.”
Brugg watched Lesko carefully, assessing his reaction to this last. He saw surprise. Some vexation. A modicum of disappointment. For the past several hours, Lesko had no doubt been thinking of Elena in terms of domesticity. Walks in the park. Introducing her to his friends. But Elena, although she certainly had changed in many ways, was still Elena. A strong woman. Tough-minded. Ruthless when she had to be. As she herself admitted, she had not yet attained sainthood. He continued to watch Lesko. Now a new reaction appeared. The beginnings of a smile. It confused Urs Brugg at first. But then he knew, even before Lesko spoke, what he was feeling.