Cold Service s-32

by Robert B. Parker

  There was nothing much to say to that. Cecile drank the rest of her cosmopolitan.

  "And except for being white, I think you are just goddamned fucking like him," she said.

  "No," I said. "I'm not."

  She was studying my face like it was the Rosetta stone.

  "Susan," she said. "You need Susan."

  "I do."

  "Well, he doesn't need me."

  "I don't know if he does or not," I said. "But not wanting to see you now doesn't prove it either way."

  "If he doesn't need me now, when will he?"

  "Maybe need is not requisite to love."

  "It seems to be for you," she said.

  "Maybe that would be my weakness," I said.

  "Maybe it's not a weakness," she said.

  "Maybe an infinite number of angels," I said, "can balance on the point of a needle."

  She nodded. The waiter brought her another drink.

  "We are getting a little abstract," she said.

  "I don't know if he loves you," I said. "And I don't know if you love him. And I don't know if you'll stroll into the sunset together, or should or want to. But as long as you know Hawk, he will be what he is. He's what he is now, except hurt."

  "And being hurt is not part of what he is?" she said.

  I grinned.

  "It is, at least, an aberration," I said.

  "So if I'm to be with him, I have to take him for what he is?"

  "Yes."

  "He won't change."

  "No."

  "And just what is he?" Cecile said.

  I grinned again.

  "Hawk," I said.

  Cecile took a sip of her drink and closed her eyes and tilted her head back and swallowed slowly. She sat for a moment like that, with her eyes closed and her head back. Then she sat up and opened her eyes.

  "I give up," she said.

  She raised her glass toward me. I touched the rim of her glass with the rim of mine. It made a satisfying clink. We both smiled.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "I'm not sure I helped."

  "Maybe you did," she said.

  5

  HAWK AND I went to a meeting with an assistant prosecutor in the Suffolk County DA's office in back of Bowdoin Square. It wasn't much of a walk from the hydrant I parked on One Bullfinch Place, but Hawk had to stop halfway and catch his breath.

  "Be glad when my blood count get back up there."

  "Me too," I said. "I'm sick of waiting for you all the time."

  He looked bad. He'd lost some weight, and since he didn't have any to lose, his muscle mass was depleted. He still seemed to walk slightly bent forward, as if to protect the places where the bullets had roamed. And he looked smaller.

  The meeting room was on the second floor-in front, with three windows, so you could look at the back of the old Bowdoin Square telephone building. Quirk was already there, at the table, with a Suffolk County ADA, a fiftyish woman named Margie Collins, whom I had met once before.

  "Hawk," Quirk said. "You look worse than I do."

  "Yeah, but I is going to improve," Hawk said.

  Quirk smiled and introduced Margie, who didn't seem to remember that she'd met me once before. Since Margie was still quite good-looking, in a full-bodied, still-in-shape, blond-haired kind of way, her forgetfulness was mildly distressing.

  "Our eyewitness shit the bed," Margie said when we sat down.

  "Stood up in court and said he had been coerced by the police," Quirk said. "Didn't know the defendants. Didn't know anything about any crimes they'd committed. He was our case. Judge directed an acquittal."

  Hawk was quiet. For all you could tell, he hadn't heard what was said.

  "How'd they get to him?" I said.

  "We had him in the Queen's Inn," Quirk said. "In Brighton. Two detectives with him all the time. Nobody in. Nobody out."

  "Except his lawyers," Margie said.

  "Bingo," I said.

  "Yeah. Can't prove it. But when we flipped him in the first place, his lawyer was fighting us all the way."

  "Did I hear you say lawyer s?" I said.

  "Yes," Margie said. "The second one was in fact an attorney. We checked. But I'm sure he was the one carried the message."

  "What does whatsisname get for bailing on his deal."

  "Bohdan," Quirk said.

  "He does life," Margie said.

  "Which is apparently a better prospect than the one they offered him," I said.

  "Apparently," Margie said.

  She looked at Hawk.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "We can't shake him."

  Hawk smiled gently.

  "Don't matter," he said.

  "At least the man who shot you will do his time."

  "Maybe," Hawk said.

  "I promise you," Margie said.

  "He ain't going to do much time," Hawk said.

  Quirk was looking out the window, studying the back of the building as if it was interesting.

  "They gonna kill him in prison," Hawk said. "If he gets there. He rolled on them once. They won't take the chance."

  Margie looked at Quirk. Quirk nodded.

  "Be my guess," Quirk said.

  Margie looked at me.

  "And what is your role in all of this?" she said.

  "Comic relief."

  "Besides that."

  "My friend dodders," I said. "I have to hold his arm."

  "Don't I know you from someplace?" Margie said.

  "I swept you off your feet about fifteen years ago, insurance fraud case, with a shooting?"

  "Ah," Margie said. "That's when. You remember that as sweeping me off my feet?"

  "I like to be positive," I said.

  Margie nodded slowly. Then she looked at Hawk.

  "I've heard about you," she said. "You may want to deal with this problem on your own."

  Hawk smiled.

  "And I can't say that I'd blame you," she said. "But if you do, and we catch you, I will be sympathetic, and I will do everything I can to put you away."

  "Everybody do," Hawk said.

  "Meanwhile, we'll stay on this thing," Margie said. "It's a horrific crime. But honestly, I'm not optimistic. What we had was the witness."

  "And now you don't," Hawk said.

  "And now we don't," Margie said.

  "And they been acquitted."

  "Yes."

  "And double jeopardy apply."

  "Yes."

  Hawk stood slowly. I stood with him.

  "When they kill him," Hawk said. "Maybe you can get them for that."

  "We'll try to prevent that," Margie said.

  "No chance," Hawk said.

  He turned slowly toward the door, one hand holding the back of his chair.

  "We'll catch them sooner or later for something," Margie said. "These are habitual criminals. They aren't likely to change."

  "Thanks for your time," Hawk said.

  "I'll have coffee with you," Quirk said. "Margie, we'll talk."

  She nodded, and the three of us went out. Slowly.

  6

  WE WALKED SLOWLY to a coffee shop on Cambridge Street. If Quirk noticed that Hawk was shuffling more than he was walking, he didn't comment.

  All he said was, "You back in the gym yet?"

  "Nope," Hawk said. "But Ah has started to brush my own teeth."

  "Step at a time," Quirk said.

  We got coffee. Quirk took a thick manila envelope out of his briefcase and put it on the table.

  "If I go before you do and forget this, and leave it lying here on the table, I want you to return it to me immediately. I only got two other copies. And under no circumstances do I want you to open the envelope and read its contents."

  "Where my man, Bohdan?" Hawk said.

  "In jail awaiting trial," Quirk said.

  "Suffolk County?" Hawk said.

  "Yep."

  "Think he'll last till his trial?" Hawk said.

  "He thinks so," Quirk said. "He thinks everythin
g's hunky-dory with the other Ukrainians."

  "You keeping him separate?" I said.

  "Yep."

  Hawk made a soft, derisive sound.

  "Never going to make trial," Hawk said.

  Quirk shrugged.

  "And ain't that a shame," Quirk said.

  "What have you got on the rest of them?" I said.

  "The details are, of course, confidential police business, which is why I have them sealed up safe in this envelope. We been talking to the organized-crime guys, the FBI, immigration. We know it's a Ukrainian mob. Which means we are dealing with some very bad people. Even the Russians are afraid of the Ukrainians."

  "They straight from the old country?" I said.

  Quirk shook his head.

  "We think from Brooklyn. They've set up around here in Marshport, up on the North Shore, which has got a small Ukrainian population."

  I nodded.

  "They come in, start small. Take over a book here and horse parlor there. Usually small-time black crime. The assumption being that the blacks have the least power."

  Quirk grinned at Hawk.

  "Which, from the looks of you, may be correct at the moment."

  "Enjoy it while you can, honkie."

  "Hey," Quirk said. "I'm a police captain."

  "That's right, you is," Hawk said. "Enjoy it while you can, Captain Honkie."

  "Anyway, pretty soon they have all the black crime, and are moving on the Asians. And so it goes. Sometimes they end up with the city. They probably got Marshport. Boston is their first big-city try since Brooklyn."

  "They don't run Brooklyn," I said.

  "Nobody does," Quirk said. "But they got a part."

  "This wouldn't have happened," I said, "if the Dodgers hadn't left."

  Both of them looked at me silently for a while. Then Quirk shook his head.

  "Gotta go to work," he said.

  He stood up.

  "We're going to chase these guys until we catch them for something," he said. "But if someone gets there first…"

  Quirk shrugged.

  "Well, what's a poor cop to do?" he said, and turned and went out the front door of the coffee shop. When he was gone I picked up the manila envelope.

  "Hey," I said softly, "you forgot your envelope."

  7

  OUTSIDE THE WINDOWS of my apartment, it was getting dark. Hawk was asleep on the bed in my bedroom. The trip to Bullfinch Place had used up all his strength. Hawk slept a lot. I used the couch. The couch was fine. I sat at my kitchen counter with the overhead lights on and the contents of Quirk's big envelope spread out in front of me.

  There were mug shots and arrest records of five men:

  Bohdan Dziubakevych

  Fadeyushka Badyrka

  Vanko Tsyklins'kyj

  Lyaksandro Prohorovych

  Danylko Levkovych All five originally came from Odessa. All five had legitimate immigration credentials. None was wanted by Ukrainian police. They were foot soldiers. There had been various arrests for assault, extortion, and racketeering in Ukraine, Poland, Russia, Romania, New York, New Britain, and Boston. No one appeared to have done serious jail time. Witnesses were probably hard to come by. The men were all between thirty-five and forty-five; they had hard, middle-European faces. Their eyes had seen awful things. I looked at the names some more and decided not to memorize them. I wasn't sure I could forget the faces.

  At about twenty to six, Susan unlocked my door and came in with two large shopping bags. She was in her understated work mode-gray suit, black sweater, clear nail polish, quiet makeup.

  "It's hard to shrink people," she once explained to me, "if they're fascinated by your eyeliner."

  She was beautiful and quiet when she came from work. Sometimes she wasn't coming from work. Then she looked beautiful and flamboyant. She put the bags on the floor and came and kissed me.

  "How is he?" she said.

  "He's asleep," I said.

  "Hard to imagine him tired," she said.

  She looked at the pictures spread out on the counter.

  "Who are those awful men?" she said.

  "Ukrainian mob," I said. "The ones Hawk will be looking for when he's not tired."

  "Ick," Susan said. "Can you help me with the bags?"

  I put the photos and paperwork back in the envelope and put the envelope away. I picked up the two shopping bags and put them on the counter.

  "Could I have a glass of orange vodka?" Susan said.

  "Straight up," I said. "No ice."

  "With a slice of orange," she said.

  "You eat and drink like no one else I know."

  "I like warm orange vodka," she said.

  "My point exactly," I said.

  I got her drink while she unpacked the bags. Bread, cheese, cold chicken, fruit, and two bottles of Riesling. I gave her the warm vodka, and she sipped it as she arranged the food on a couple of good platters that she had insisted I buy.

  "Can he eat and drink?" Susan said.

  "He's permitted to," I said. "But he doesn't have much interest in it yet."

  She nodded. I made myself a scotch and soda in a tall glass with a lot of ice. We sat at my counter and had our drinks together.

  "You're on the couch?" Susan said.

  "Yes."

  "Do I remember correctly?" Susan said. "Were we on that couch the first time we ever made love."

  "I think so," I said. "At least that's where we started. I remember you burst into applause afterwards."

  "Are you sure?" she said.

  "You said I should get an award for sustained excellence."

  "I'm pretty sure I didn't say that," Susan said.

  "What did you say then?"

  "I think I said, 'Never touch me again, you lout.' "

  "Maybe," I said. "But you didn't mean it."

  Hawk came out of my bedroom, barefoot, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. His face was still damp from washing.

  "Did we wake you?" Susan said.

  "I sleep about twenty hours a day," Hawk said. "Anything wakes me up is good."

  "Can you eat anything?"

  "Maybe sip a drink," Hawk said. "What you drinking?"

  "Orange vodka," Susan said. "Up with a slice."

  "Up?"

  "Yes."

  "Warm orange vodka?"

  "Yes."

  "Jesus, girl," Hawk said.

  He looked at my drink.

  "Gimme one of those," he said.

  I made him one and he eased onto a stool at the counter.

  "Would you be more comfortable on the couch?" Susan said.

  "Too hard to get up."

  "We could help you," Susan said.

  Hawk looked at her balefully.

  "Or not," Susan said.

  Hawk sipped his drink. He seemed to be listening to his body as the drink went down.

  "Okay?" I said.

  Hawk nodded.

  "Pretty good," he said.

  Susan took a couple of grapes off the platter and ate them and sipped some vodka. Hawk shuddered.

  "You will be all the way back sooner or later," Susan said.

  "I will," Hawk said.

  "And then what?"

  Not a lot of people said "then what?" to Hawk. But Susan was one who could. Hawk looked at the manila envelope I had put aside. He shrugged.

  "Business as usual," he said.

  "You're going to find those men," Susan said.

  "Yes."

  "You're going to kill them."

  "Yes."

  "Five people."

  "Four," Hawk said. "Old Bohdan will be dead long before we ready."

  Susan nodded toward me.

  "You will want him to help you."

  "Up to him," Hawk said.

  "Are you going to help him kill four people?" Susan said to me.

  "I'm going to help him find them, and I'm going to help him not get killed. He'll kill who he kills," I said.

  "Isn't that sort of a fine line?" Susan said.

&nb
sp; "Very fine," I said. "But it's a line."

  Susan nodded.

  "That troubling to you?" Hawk said.

  "Yes," she said. "It is very troubling."

  "He don't have to."

  "Yes," Susan said. "He does."

  She looked at Hawk, holding her warm vodka in one hand and a green grape in the other. I knew she had forgotten both.

  "He does have to," she said.

  We were quiet. I put my hand on her thigh and patted softly. She never disappointed. She always knew.

  "Ain't happening for a while," Hawk said.

  Susan ate her grape and sipped more vodka.

  "I know," she said brightly. "Want some chicken?"

  8

  HAWK WASN'T RUNNING yet. But he could walk a ways. So, in the week before Thanksgiving, we were walking with Pearl along the river in back of where I lived. Actually, Hawk and I were walking. Pearl was tearing around, looking for something to hunt or eat or sniff or bark at.

  "Like you," I said. "Dark, slick, and full of energy."

  "I still dark and slick," Hawk said.

  It hadn't been cold enough long enough for the river to freeze, and the gray surface was ruffled with small whitecaps.

  "Two out of three," I said.

  We weren't passing a lot of people, but Hawk wasn't bent over anymore, and he didn't move anymore like an elderly man with bad feet.

  "The blood count is creeping up," I said.

  "Slow bastard," Hawk said.

  Two young women ran by in luminescent tights and wool hats pulled down over their ears. They both glanced at Hawk as they passed.

  "That's a good sign," I said.

  "Lucky they didn't stop," Hawk said. "Best I could do is talk dirty for a minute."

  Pearl had located an old french fry beside a trash barrel. She ate it proudly and came over and jumped up and gave me a kiss that smelled vaguely of fryalator.

  "Tracked it down and ate it," Hawk said. "Dog's a savage."

  "It's in the genes," I said.

  It was midday. Traffic on both sides of the river was easy. The sun was almost above us in the southern sky. It was a pallid winter sun, and it shed little heat. But it was cheery enough.

  "Quirk called me," I said. "Bohdan got it."

  "Good," Hawk said.

  "They were taking him from his cell down to the visiting area to see his lawyer. Two guards. They were moving some other prisoners in from the exercise yard. They passed each other. It got a little crowded for a minute."