“What happens if you refuse to write the book the way this schmuck wants you to?”
“I’ll never write in this town again?” I smiled ruefully.
“Want me to go talk to him?”
“No. That’s kind of you, but it isn’t necessary.”
“You don’t let me have any fun.”
“I know. I’m a cruel man.”
“You’re a good man.” He rubbed my shoulders. “Look. Take some time to think about it. I’ve got enough money to support you in the style you’re accustomed to.”
I drew back and glared at him. “I have enough money to support me in the style to which I’m accustomed.”
“Well, shit. I don’t get to be your sugar daddy? You’re a spoilsport, Mann.”
“And you’re an idiot.” But I could see what he was trying to do, and I appreciated it.
“No, I’m serious. If you want to work at the WBIS, I can put in a good word for you. You know The Boss was all for it after you left the CIA—you were a damned good spook. If I tell him you’re interested, he’ll be more than willing to agree to it.”