That also made sense to Manus. And the confidence with which Larison had suggested the possibility made Manus wonder whether the man had ever employed a dead-man setup himself.
“It might not matter,” Dox said. “Maybe they can’t get to Schrader, maybe they just won’t take the risk. Either way, it’s Diaz they’re focused on. But look, Mr. Manus—”
“Manus is fine.”
Dox nodded. “Manus then. The thing is, my partner can be a little more direct than I am, but he was right when he said the reason we were sent to talk to you instead of killing you, or trying to kill you—in fairness, who can really say how it might have turned out, though I’m sure we all would have acquitted ourselves heroically no matter the results—is because our handler didn’t like what Rispel was up to here and was hoping you could shed some light on it. But now it seems we’re all in deeper water than we’d anticipated, and in it together, too. So whatever you can tell us about who approached you, when, what they said, all that . . . Well, in my experience we could kill a lot more bad guys if we share information instead of siloing it.”
Manus waited. Dox was obviously a talker, but it seemed he also knew when to shut up. And Larison, too, had enough sense, or discipline, not to be drawn in by silence.
After a few more seconds, Manus said, “There were two of them. I don’t know who they were. They felt like former military to me. Contractors. They knew a lot about me. About my life. They told me if I didn’t take the Diaz job, they would . . . do something to hurt people I care about.”
It was strange. He hadn’t once felt anything from Larison other than menace. But for an instant, something shifted in the man’s expression. His jaw tightened, or his eyes narrowed. It was too subtle for Manus to be sure. But . . . something.
He’d planned to stop there but found himself adding, “I haven’t done these things in a long time. And I knew once they saw they could pressure me into one job, they would try to pressure me into others. I was trying to buy myself time.”
Dox said, “Time for what?”
Manus looked at Larison.
Larison said, “Time to kill whoever’s behind this.”
Manus nodded.
“Your people,” Larison said. “Are they in danger now?”
Manus had already been over and over that. He couldn’t see any advantage for anyone in moving against Evie or Dash. It would get them nothing, other than Manus’s implacable rage. Still, it was hard not to worry.
“I don’t think so,” Manus said. “And I can’t . . . If I tried to warn them, I don’t think it would help. It would only be . . . upsetting.”
Larison nodded. “That’s good. Back to Plan A, then. Kill whoever’s behind this.”
Manus wasn’t sure why Larison would care. And maybe he didn’t. But at least he understood.
“So Diaz was too high-profile,” Larison went on. “You were supposed to be a one-off. Disposable.”
Manus nodded again. “I was worried about that, too. They were guarding their information tightly. They never gave me a name. Only a description. They told me the woman liked to run in the park, and I should wait there early every morning. They gave me a burner and said they would text me photos when she was on her way to me. Several different ones, distance and telephoto, all taken just before being sent.”
“To make confirmation easier and more reliable,” Dox said. “You see the clothes she’s wearing, whether her hair was up or down, everything. They were supposed to do the same thing for us with you, though I suppose that’s been overtaken by events.”
“What about the cellphone?” Larison said. “You weren’t nervous they were tracking you?”