“I think I’ve done enough favors for you.”
Robinson smiled anew. “I’m not asking much. Just take a short ride with us in a little while. The children can go, too. Afterward you can have them back.”
Larry could already feel something wrong with things, could sense a shift in attitude that signaled this was not going to go the way he wanted. He had been a sheriff’s deputy for better than fifteen years, and he trusted his instincts. He needed to get the upper hand on these people right away, not take any chances.
“I’ve been doing some checking,” he said, deciding to force the issue. “I called the FBI’s Chicago field office and asked about you. They never heard of you. They don’t know anything about a drug operation in this area.”
Robinson shrugged. “They don’t know we’re here. We operate out of Washington. What is the problem, Deputy?”
“Is that one of your operatives?” Larry pressed, staying calm, pointing at the strange man on the couch.
Robinson glanced over his shoulder, then back at Spence. “Yes, he’s a local—”
Larry had his .45 out and pointed at Robinson’s midsection. “Stand easy,” he advised. “Keep your hands where I can see them.” He reached forward and patted the old man’s coat pockets and sides, then stepped away. “I checked with Washington as well. No one there knows who you are, either.”
The man who called himself Robinson said nothing.
“So who are you?” Larry pressed.
The other man shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
Penny looked up from the television. When she saw the gun in Larry’s hand, she started to rise.
“Sit down!” Larry ordered sharply. She hesitated, then did so. But she was grinning broadly. “What’s going on here?” Larry demanded of everyone in general.
Robinson smiled. “Figure it out for yourself, Deputy Sheriff. You seem pretty clever.”
“Your being here doesn’t have anything to do with drugs, does it?”
Robinson pursed his lips. “No, Deputy Sheriff, it doesn’t. But it does have to do with addiction. I am a specialist in addictions, did you know that? Addictions that beset the human race. There are hundreds of them. Thousands. Human beings are enslaved by their addictions, and I find that by determining the nature of the addictions that rule them, I can influence the course of action they take.”
He cocked an eyebrow at Spence. “Take yourself, for instance. I knew almost from the beginning that if I wanted something from you, all I had to do was link my request to your very obvious attraction to Miss Freemark. You were blinded to everything when focused on her. Silly, really, since she doesn’t care the weight of a paper clip for you. But you see her as your future wife and the mother of your children and so you do the things you think will further the happening of those events.”
Larry flushed angrily. “That’s not an addiction. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Addictions come in all sizes and shapes,” Robinson continued mildly, “and the people who have them always think they’re something else. Dependencies, Deputy Sheriff. They give an illusion of control you lack. Yours is a small dependency, but deeply ingrained, and it rules you. It’s why you’ve been so helpful to me. I give you the illusion of control over your need to influence Miss Freemark and you’re ready to walk over coals.”
The headache and buzzing were attacking Larry Spence with such ferocity that he could barely focus on what Robinson was saying. “Let’s get those children up here right now!” he snapped, suddenly furious.
“Let’s not,” Robinson replied calmly.
Larry stared at him. What was he thinking? That Larry wouldn’t shoot, that he wouldn’t use the gun he was holding if the other man made even the slightest move to stop him? Did he think Larry wasn’t in charge of this situation, that he wasn’t able to do what was needed just because he had allowed himself to be tricked earlier?
Then he looked into Robinson’s eyes, and he saw the truth. His gun didn’t mean anything. Or his badge of office, or the weight of the law, or even Larry himself. None of it mattered. Those eyes were dead to everything. They had been dead a long time.