"Ha-ha. I'm dying laughing." He poured himself a drink. "You want one this time?"
"No."
Danny sat down on the couch, taking care not to allow his robe to gape open. "All right, man, lay it on me. What do you want?"
"I want your help finding somebody."
"Who?"
"A kid pusher named Walter Sterling."
Danny made a face and said, "Don't sound like the name of one of my people."
"He's not. He's white."
"A street pusher?"
"Yeah."
Danny shrugged and said, "I don't know him."
"That may be so, but that doesn't mean you can't help me find him."
"How do you propose I do that?"
"You've got street people of your own, Danny. Put the word out. One white boy can't be that hard to find in this neighborhood, right?"
"What makes you think he's hanging out here?"
Remo shrugged and said, "A hunch. If he's hiding out, he's hiding where he thinks no one will look for him."
"You want my people to find this kid for you," Danny said. "Is that all?"
"Not quite. The next part is tricky."
"1 don't like tricks."
"You'll love it. It'll spice up your life."
"I hate it already."
"I want you to front for me in setting up a meeting with someone from this new drug operation."
"We've had meetings. Nothing ever gets done," Danny said. "The top man never comes."
"I don't want the top man. I just want somebody I can question."
"What makes you think that whoever they send will talk to you?" the pusher asked.
"I'm a real persuasive guy, Danny."
"Man, I'll bet you are too."
"What do you say?"
"I say maybe I ought to give you a try," Danny said, giving Remo an appraising look.
"You carrying your blade in that?"
"I wouldn't need my blade."
"Oh, yes, you would," Remo said, "and that would still give you next to no chance at all." They stared at each other in silence for several ticks of the clock, and then Remo said, "Believe me."
"That's the problem, man," Danny said. "I do."
"You'll set it up, then?"
"I'll give it a shot. Where do I get in touch with you when— and if— I do?"
Remo gave Danny the Man his hotel and his room number.
"Call me there. I'll be waiting for another call anyway, so someone will be there at all times."
"Got some other fool working for you too?"
"Working," Remo said. "But I don't think it's for me."
* * *
Remo's next stop was the police station, where Detective William Palmer was breathing fire.
"What the hell do you mean by leaving the scene of a homicide?" the detective demanded. "I could put you away for that and throw away the key. You know that, don't you?"
"I know. But you won't."
"And why not?" The detective placed his hands belligerently on his hips.
"Because I'm going to solve these murders for you."
"Is that a fact? You got some kind of crystal ball?"
"I'm just working on something, that's all."
Palmer stared at Remo, breathing hard through his nose, and then said, "What about the kid? Did you find him?"
"Not yet. That's one of the things I'm working on."