Deal with the Dead Read Online Free Page A

spent every cent, the truth be told. Money I entrusted to you. Money my father entrusted to you…”
    Babescu’s eyes widened. “We’re partners, Michael. As were your father and I before you. I’ve made investments on your behalf, that’s all—”
    Halliday shook his head. The fact that his father had trusted Babescu all those years had allowed Halliday to do the same.
Honor among thieves,
he thought, shaking his head bitterly. Stupidity seemed the true currency.
    “I want my money, Babescu.”
    “And you’ll have it back, ten times over…in time.”
    Halliday stared at him for a moment, forcing himself to calm. He sat back in his chair, noting that Frank had raised the dangling cage to its fullest height, was dropping it back down in a series of jerking movements while Basil shouted threats from between the bars.
    Halliday glanced over at him. “I’m taking over,” Halliday said evenly. “Everything you’re invested in. I’m taking back what’s mine.”
    Babescu glanced up sharply, and in that unguarded moment, Halliday saw the cruelty that lay behind the carefully crafted façade. In an instant, though, the saturnine smile was back, and Babescu was rising to his feet as if he simply needed to stretch his legs. An unusually graceful move for a man so bloated, Halliday was thinking.
    Babescu’s hand was going inside his coat. His other made a gesture toward the shadows, where earlier Halliday had seen the men stationed.
    At the same moment, Frank Wheatley gave a yank on the controls of the Fire Shower of the Apocalypse, sending the steel cage hurtling toward the platform. The dangling cage, with Basil still inside, smashed through the flimsy railing like a wrecking ball, then drove itself into Babescu with a thud that vibrated the decking beneath Halliday’s feet.
    The fat man went down with a groan, the pistol he’d intended to draw skittering across the deck to Halliday’s feet. Halliday glanced at the weapon, then kicked it over the side.
    The fat man was struggling onto his hands and knees, his eyes glassy. Basil Wheatley had already jumped down from the dangling cage, steadying it with one meaty hand, while Frank played out cable until its floor rested solidly on the deck.
    In an instant, Basil was across the reviewing stand to drive a fist into the fat man’s broad back, just above the kidney. He drew back quickly and sent another to the base of Babescu’s skull. There was a dull popping sound, and Babescu collapsed to the deck as if he’d been shot.
    Basil snatched the fat man by the collar of his white coat and dragged him toward the cage. He jerked open the door of the cage with one hand, lifting Babescu inside as if he were stuffed with feathers.
    Basil slammed the door to the cage, then gave his brother the thumbs-up. In moments the cage was dangling half a dozen feet in the air, Babescu’s corpulent face pressed into furrows by the steel bars.
    “You stole from me,” Halliday said.
    Babescu blinked down at him, then out into the darkness where he’d stationed his bodyguards. Bodyguards so recently retired. Indeed, Halliday thought, money did talk.
    “For God’s sake, Michael,” Babescu managed.
    “You took advantage when I was in a position of weakness,” Halliday replied.
    “I’ll make calls,” Babescu said. He struggled to pull himself upright, but his legs seemed unwilling to obey. “I’ll see that you get everything that’s yours, and interest besides.”
    “This isn’t a banking transaction,” Halliday said. He turned to Basil. “Give him the documents.”
    Basil motioned to Frank, who cranked the cage down a foot or two. Basil stepped forward, thrust a sheet of paper and a pen between the bars.
    “What is this?” Babescu asked blearily.
    “The item requires your signature,” Halliday said.
    “We could have reasoned out these matters, Michael,” Babescu said, a plaintive note in his voice.
    “Sign,” said Basil Wheatley, rocking the cage with his