Now McLeod's skin did begin to crawl. Statistically, the assassination-accident case was more fool-proof than any other. Gunmen commanded good salaries and did their work expertly. Ninety-five per cent accuracy could be expected. "I'm listening."
"Join the World."
"Come again?"
"I'm sure you heard me. Quit the Star-Times and join us. We'll match your salary, we won't kill you—"
"But the Star-Times will!"
"You'd be valuable to us, aside from your abilities as a reporter. No doubt, they've included you in any long-range plans they might have. We'll have them piling up wrongos from now till doomsday."
"Which is exactly why they'll have me killed if I become a turncoat."
"We'll offer you full protection."
"I'm already getting full protection—from the Star-Times," McLeod lied. It was almost a tempting offer, although its virtues were purely negative. The Star-Times had refused to offer him protection because Overman thought it would be simpler and more certain to serve up a substitute reporter for the kill. If McLeod accepted Wainwright's offer, at least he'd be able to sleep easy regarding Crippens. But if the World's real purpose was to remove McLeod from the Star-Times' staff, one way or the other, they might risk an all-out Tong War and still gun for him.
Besides, no turncoat newspaperman had ever survived six months. McLeod knew it and was sure Wainwright knew it and guessed the World reporter was promising him all he could under the circumstances—a temporary reprieve.