Read The Professional for Free Online Page A

best,” I said. “You ever pay?”
    He grinned at me and sipped more bourbon.
    “Not often,” he said.
    He stirred the remaining bourbon and ice with his forefinger for a moment.
    “Nice gig,” he said. “I hope we can work something out. I’d hate to give it up.”
    “Tell me about the gig,” I said.
    “You probably got most of it figured out,” he said.
    “Tell me anyway,” I said. “I’m much dumber than I seem.” Gary leaned back in his chair and laughed hard.
    “Aren’t we all,” he said.
    He drank the rest of his bourbon, spotted the waitress, pointed to the glass. She nodded and looked at me. I shook my head.
    “Okay,” Gary said. “I’m good with women, you know? They like me. For a while I used that to get a lot of tail.”
    “Good to have a hobby,” I said.
    He grinned.
    “That’s what it was at first, a hobby,” he said. “But I like a lot of action.”
    “And you believe in diversity,” I said.
    “I do,” he said. “And that makes the hobby get kind of expensive.”
    “Lot of wining and dining before you even get to the hobby part,” I said.
    “Pretty much at first,” Gary said. “After you sort of get established it gets cheaper, you know? You cut out the wining and dining, get right to the hobby.”
    I nodded. The waitress came with Gary’s drink. It made him happy. He drank some of it.
    “But one day,” I said, “it occurred to you that you might be able to turn the hobby into a living.”
    He pointed to me.
    “Exactly,” he said. “You sure you’re not smart?”
    “Pretty sure,” I said.
    “I think you’re too modest,” Gary said.
    “That, too,” I said. “So how did you do the blackmail?”
    “Hey, dude, what a terrible word,” he said.
    “Okay,” I said. “How did you go about professionalizing your hobby?”
    “First time I tried it,” Gary said, “I rented a motel room for a couple days. I got some software in my computer that allows pictures to be taken through the screen. I set it up focused on the bed, so it looked like it was just on the table, where I’d been typing or something. And I set it to go off every few seconds. As backup, I put a tape recorder under the bed. So when the action started I made sure the positions were right for pictures and sound. It worked. And as time went along, I refined it. Got a tiny video camera, set it up in the corner of the room. In a shadow. Taped sight and sound.”
    Gary sipped some bourbon. As he swallowed, he held the glass up in front of him and gave it a little kiss.
    “In some ways, the sound is better than the pictures,” he said.
    “But harder to identify,” I said.
    “Yeah. That’s why you need the pictures. But the stuff they said . . .” He shook his head. “You know how a lot of women say stuff during sex?”
    “I recall something about that,” I said.
    “You married?” Gary said.
    “No, but I’m with the girl of my dreams,” I said.
    “Girl of your dreams?” Gary said.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “She say stuff?”
    I didn’t say anything.
    Gary shrugged.
    “À chacun son goût,” he said.
    “Oui,” I said.
    He grinned.
    “Anyway, I got some excellent action,” he said. “Some of it pretty kinky.”
    I nodded.
    “You want to hear about it?” Gary said.
    “Another time,” I said.
    “You got a problem with kinky, Spense?”
    “Not among consenting adults,” I said. “And don’t call me Spense.”
    “Oh, sure, apologize,” he said. “Anyway, it was duck soup. So I started doing it regular. I made sure the women were married and had money, preferably married to older rich men, so they might be looking for action but would never want to give up the husband and his money.”
    “Estelle help you with that?” I said.
    “Boy, you don’t miss much,” Gary said. “How’d you know that?”
    “She fingered me for you,” I said.
    “Oh,” he said. “Yeah.”
    “She’d have access to the membership records,” I said.
    “She does,” Gary said. “She knows what