I kept my gun tight against my body as I approached. I didn’t want to scare anyone who might happen by. The driver kept his wrists on the wheel, his fingers slightly raised. He wore a baggy blue suit with a matching tie. The wire of his cell phone earpiece was clipped to the lapel of his jacket. He was probably having trouble raising his buddies.

I nodded to Jackie. He had a little snub-nose Browning in his right hand. He kept it fixed on the driver as he opened the door.

“Get out,” I said. “Do it slowly.”

The driver did as he was told. He was tall and balding, with black hair that was just a little too long to look good.

“I’m not armed,” he said.

Jackie pushed him against my car and frisked him anyway. He came up with a wallet, and a.38 from an ankle holster.

“What’s this?” said Jackie. “Soap?”

“You shouldn’t tell lies,” I said. “They’ll turn your tongue black.”

Jackie tossed me the wallet. Inside was a Massachusetts driver’s license, identifying the man before us as one Alexis Murnos. There were also some business cards in his name for a company named Dresden Enterprises, with offices in the Prudential in Boston. Murnos was the head of corporate security.

“I hear you’ve been asking questions about me, Mr. Murnos. It would have been a lot easier to approach me directly.”

Murnos didn’t reply.

“Find out about his friends,” I told Jackie.

Jackie stepped back to make a call on his cell. Most of it consisted of “uh-huh’s” and “yeahs,” apart from one worrying interjection of “Jesus, it broke that easy? Guy must have brittle bones.”

“The Fulcis have them in the bed of their truck,” he told me when he was done. “They’re rent-a-cops from some security agency in Saugus. Tony says he thinks they’ll stop bleeding soon.”

If Murnos was troubled by the news, he didn’t show it. I had a feeling that Murnos was probably better at his job than the other two jokers, but somebody had asked him to do too much too quickly, and with limited resources. It seemed like time to prick his professional pride.

“You’re not very good at this, Mr. Murnos,” I said. “Corporate security at Dresden Enterprises must leave a little something to be desired.”

“We don’t even know what Dresden Enterprises is,” said Jackie. “He could be responsible for guarding chickens.”

Murnos sucked air in through his teeth. He had reddened slightly.

“So,” I said, “are you going to tell me what this is about, maybe over a cup of coffee, or do you want us to take you to meet your friends? It sounds like they’re going to need a ride home, eventually, and probably some medical attention. I’ll have to leave you with the gentlemen who are currently looking after them, but it’ll only be for a day or two until I find out more about the company you’re working for. That will mean paying a visit to Dresden Enterprises, possibly with a couple of people in tow, which could be very professionally embarrassing for you.”

Murnos considered his options. They were kind of limited.

“I guess coffee sounds good,” he said, finally.

“See?” I said to Jackie. “That was easy.”

“You got a way with people,” said Jackie. “We didn’t even have to hit him.”

He sounded mildly disappointed.

It transpired that Murnos was actually empowered to tell me a certain amount, and to deal with me directly. He just preferred to sneak around until he was certain of all the angles. In fact, he admitted that he had amassed a considerable quantity of information on me without ever leaving his office, and he had partly guessed that Matheson would contact me. If worse came to worst, as it just had, he would then get a chance to see what I did when my feathers were ruffled.

“My colleagues aren’t really bleeding in the back of a truck, are they?” he asked. We were sitting at a table in Big Sky. It smelled good in there. Behind the counter, the kids who did the baking were cleaning down baking trays and freshening the coffee.

I exchanged a guilty look with Jackie. He was eating an apple scone, his second.

“I’m pretty certain that they are,” I said.

“The guys that took care of them, they ain’t too particular about these things,” said Jackie. “Plus one of your people said something insensitive about their truck.”

I was grateful to Jackie for all that he’d done, but it was time to get him out of the way. I asked him to find the Fulcis and make sure they didn’t inflict any further damage on anyone. He bought them a bag of scones and went on his way.

“You have interesting friends,” said Murnos, once Jackie was gone.

“Believe me, you haven’t even met the most entertaining ones. If you have anything to share with me, then now’s the time.”

Murnos sipped his coffee.

“I work for Mr. Joachim Stuckler. He is the CEO of Dresden Enterprises. Mr. Stuckler is a venture capitalist specializing in software and multimedia.”

“So he’s wealthy?”

“Yes, I think that would be a fair comment.”

“If he’s wealthy, why does he hire cheap labor?”

“That was my fault. I needed men to help me, and I’d used those two before. I didn’t expect them to be beaten for their trouble. Neither did I expect to be cornered in a parking lot and relieved of my weapon by someone who then offered to buy me coffee and a scone.”

“It’s been one of those days for you.”

“Yes, it has. Mr. Stuckler is also a collector of note. He has the wealth to indulge his tastes.”

“What does he collect?”

“Art, antiques. Unusual material.”

I could see where this was leading.

“Such as little silver boxes from the fifteenth century?”

Murnos shrugged. “He is aware that you were the one who found the remains in the apartment. He believes that your case may impinge upon something of interest to him. He would like to meet you to discuss the matter further. If you were free, he would appreciate a few hours of your time. Naturally, he will pay you for your trouble.”

“Naturally, except I’m not really in the mood for a trip to Boston.”

Murnos shrugged again.

“You were looking for a woman,” he said matter-of-factly. “Mr. Stuckler may be able to provide you with some information on those responsible for her disappearance.”

I glanced over at the kids behind the counter. I wanted to hit Murnos. I wanted to beat him until he told me all that he knew. He saw that desire in my face.

“Believe me, Mr. Parker, my knowledge of this affair is limited, but I do know that Mr. Stuckler had nothing to do with whatever happened to the woman. He merely learned that you were the one who killed Homero Garcia, and discovered human remains in his apartment. He is also aware of the opening of the chamber in the basement of the building. I made some inquiries on his behalf, and discovered that your interest lay in the woman. Mr. Stuckler is happy to share whatever insights he may have with you.”

“And in return?”

“You may be able to fill some gaps in his own knowledge. If you cannot, then Mr. Stuckler is still willing to talk with you, and to tell you whatever he feels may be of help to you. It is a win-win situation for you, Mr. Parker.”

Murnos recognized that I had no choice, but he had the decency not to gloat. I agreed to see his employer over the next couple of days. Murnos confirmed the arrangement in a cell phone conversation with one of Stuckler’s assistants, then asked me if it was okay if he left. I thought it was nice of him to ask, until I realized that he was only looking for his gun back. I accompanied him outside, emptied the bullets down a drain, and handed the gun to him.

“You should get another gun,” I said. “That one isn’t much use to you on your ankle.”

Murnos’s right hand flexed, and I was suddenly looking down the barrel of a Smith amp; Wesson Sigma.380, four inches long and a pound in weight.