Silver Linings, стр. 78

“Then what was the problem?”

“The problem,” Hugh said quietly, “was that sometimes the clients did not want witnesses who might have snooped around the cargo. Sometimes the clients had enemies who did not want the cargo transported in the first place.”

“I see. It was dangerous.”

Hugh shrugged. “Sometimes. On the whole it wasn't bad work. Silk and I, we sort of liked it. There was hardly any paperwork, no dress code, and like I said, the boss only had two rules. I told you the first one: take care of the planes.”

“And the second?”

“Don't come back without one of the planes. Planes are expensive, you see. A lot more expensive than pilots.”

“That sounds a little cold-blooded.”

“Just good business.”

“Planes are more expensive than pilots. I heard you say something like that to Ray and Derek.” Mattie smiled faintly. “But you didn't really mean it. You were just emphasizing the importance of maintenance.”

Hugh's brows climbed at her naive faith in his basic good nature. “Well, my boss meant it. Every word. At any rate, things went fairly well for me and Silk for quite a while. We made a little money, did a lot of flying, and got the planes back in one piece. And then one day we broke the rules.”

“What happened?”

“We were flying a cargo into a very remote location in South America. It was supposed to be supplies for some fancy scientific research team, but Silk and I knew it was probably something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like guns. But, as usual, we didn't ask any questions. We just tried to do the job and get out. But this time we almost didn't make it. The plane got shot up. I got it back in the air but not for long, and we went down in some bad country.”

“My God,” Mattie whispered.

Hugh smiled in spite of his mood. “Hey, don't look so horrified. Obviously we made it out.”

“Obviously. But you lost the plane.”

“And our jobs. Silk and I were not in the best of shape when we finally walked out of that damned jungle. The jungles in South America are different from the ones out on the islands. They're a lot more dangerous. A lot can go wrong. And it seemed like just about everything that could go wrong did go wrong, from Silk picking up a fever to us meeting up with some folks who wanted to use us for target practice. But the worst thing that went wrong was that we had no cash left by the time we paid Silk's medical bills.”

“But you got another job?”

“Yeah. Working for Jack Rainbird.”

Mattie chewed on her lower lip. Her expression as reflected in the window was very determined looking. “Doing what?” she finally asked.

“Rainbird was the head of a group of professional mercenaries,” Hugh said bluntly. “He sold his team's services all over the world.”

Her eyes widened in the glass. “You became a mercenary? A hired gun?”

“Yeah.” Hugh braced himself against the shock and disbelief in her voice. He had expected both, but they still came as quick jabs in the gut. Perhaps that was because there were times when he had the same reaction to his own past.

A hired gun. A man who signed on to fight somebody else's war, carry out somebody else's vendetta. For cold, hard cash, up front.

People from Mattie's world, where the big battles were all verbal ones fought over weighty questions of artistic merit, could only be expected to recoil in horror from such a truth. In Mattie's world a man could be forgiven for showing up for a date with paint stains on his hands, but not old blood.

In Mattie's world a man did not make a living at warfare.

In Mattie's world a man was expected to have a civilized past.

In Mattie's world there would be no place for a man like the one Hugh had once been.

Hugh was aware of the old, familiar chill in his gut. He could hear it reflected in his voice. The cold sensation was automatic after all these years. It was a way of protecting himself when things were about to turn very bad. He could hardly feel anything at all when he went real cold like this.

Hugh kept his gaze fixed on Mattie's reflection, waiting impatiently now for the look in her eyes to change to one of shock and disgust; waiting for her to turn away from him.

He was waiting, as usual, for things to turn very, very bad, the way they had so often over the course of his life.

“Obviously not your sort of work,” she said thoughtfully, her brows drawing together in a considering fashion. “It wouldn't really suit you at all.”

“Not my sort of work?” Hugh stared at her, open-mouthed and momentarily speechless. “Uh…well…” There was no point telling her he'd been damn good at that kind of work, he decided. He was not especially proud of that fact. And she was right, the job hadn't proud of that fact. And she was right, the job hadn't suited him at all, even if he had been competent at it.

“Silk was also part of this team run by Jack Rainbird?” Mattie asked.

“Yeah. And Paul Cormier. Silk and I were in charge of logistics. We were responsible for figuring out how to get the team in and back out again once a job was done.” Hugh spoke slowly, his mind still on Mattie's unexpected reaction to his grand confession. “Rainbird dealt with the client, took the money, and gave us our shares. It was run sort of like a corporation in that respect.”

“Who were the clients?”

Hugh shrugged. “CIA as often as not. Or some front operation they were backing.”

“A nasty lot.”

“The work is steady. They pay well. And on time,” Hugh told her, his voice harsh.

“Well, of course. They could hardly expect people to continue taking risks doing their disgusting little jobs all over the world for them if they didn't pay well and on time, could they?” Mattie asked practically. “What happened in the end?