An attempt which had not succeeded.
Perry smoothed his mustache. It had been quite a shock at first, but he’d gotten over it quickly enough. He hadn’t even waited to discover Liam’s reaction. He knew he’d operate more smoothly without having to contend with Liam’s rather violent mistrust.
The contrary Irishman had no doubt already fixed the blame for his “accident.” But if he’d gone in pursuit of Perry, he wouldn’t have found him.
Perry knew how to disappear.
There was a stirring from one side of the room, the hiss of a sliding panel being drawn back. A man walked in, wrapped in dignity, his dark silk suit dull in the dimness. Two hatchetmen followed, and a smaller individual with wire spectacles and a humble air.
The boss seated himself in the carved mahogany chair and regarded Perry for a length of time undoubtedly meant to intimidate. Perry met his dark gaze unflinchingly. Inspection apparently completed, the boss signaled to one of his men and spoke swiftly in another language.
The bespectacled man moved up, bowing. “The master wishes to know if you will have tea, sir.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t time for pleasantries. I’m here on a matter of business. To our mutual benefit.”
The interpreter repeated some approximation of Perry’s words to his master with much humble posturing. The boss was either bored or annoyed; he uttered a few terse comments and waited for his man to render them in English.
“The master wishes to know what you want with him.”
Perry leaned back in his chair. “You may tell your master that I know what you’re planning to do about Mr. O’Shea, and I think I can be of help to you.”
The interpreter was a little less efficient in his work this time, and his boss less happy. “And what,” he said, “makes you so certain you can be of use to us, Mr. Sinclair? We have many outsiders working for us already.”
“Because I know O’Shea very well. I’m his closest friend, as it happens.”
The boss leaned back, stroking the expensive silk of his jacket. “And so?”
“I also know about his secret operations,” Perry said. “The ones that have been so inconvenient to your business. I have reason to believe he’s organizing another raid, and I may be able to provide you with details.”
“I see.”
“And if that’s not enough, I may be able to get rid of him for you. I’m well aware that you can’t afford to go about your… attempts on Mr. O’Shea too obviously unless you want the police down on your head. Some of them do remain uncorrupted and only require a good reason to put an end to your very profitable transactions.” Perry smiled coldly. “I can take care of O’Shea without any risk to you. But only if you leave it to me and don’t interfere.”
“And what do you expect for this… service?”
“As I said, you run a very profitable business. I need money. I’m sure we can work out a mutually satisfactory agreement.”
When the translation was done the boss sat very still in his chair while the hatchetmen shifted and looked as if they’d like nothing better than to make use of the weapons for which they’d been so aptly named. One of them even leaned down to speak into the ear of his boss, making a chopping motion with his hand.
But Perry knew he’d succeeded when the boss signaled again and the interpreter scurried out to return with an exquisite tea service on a delicate enameled tray.
“Perhaps we may be of aid to each other,” the boss said. His servant presented a steaming cup to Perry and returned to his master. “Now we shall seal our bargain.”
Perry took the fragile cup, inhaling the subtle fragrance. And waited.
The boss sipped his tea. Perry did the same without further hesitation.
If the tong leader had decided not to trust him, he could easily have poisoned the tea. No one knew Perry had come here; few would ever miss him. But the risk was worth taking. The stakes had gone too high.
There was absolutely nothing left to lose.