Cold Service (9 page)

"Why is it again we live 'round here?" Hawk said.

"We like the seasonal change," I said.

The street was nearly empty. A stumblebum in many layers of cast-off clothing inched his way up Market Street. He stopped to stare down into a trash barrel and then moved on. Several windows in the three-deckers on both sides of the street were boarded over. There were no dogs, no children. Just the solitary bum shuffling numbly along.

"Think it's colder in the poor neighborhoods?" I said.

"Yes," Hawk said.

"Because God favors the rich?"

"Why they rich," Hawk said.

"It is easier," I said, "for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than…"

"Here they come," Hawk said.

Two men wearing overcoats and watch caps came out of the stronghold and got into a Chevrolet Suburban. We saw the plume of exhaust from the tailpipe as the car started up. We all sat for a time while the defroster cleared the windows on the Chevy. Then it rolled forward and went toward Marshport Road. We let them get far ahead and cruised out after them. There were some cars on the road, and when we turned onto Route 1A there were more. On open highway, it's easy to stay with the car you're tailing but harder to avoid being seen. In the city it's easy to stay unseen, but more difficult not to lose the tailee. Fortunately I was nationally ranked in both modes, and when the Ukrainians pulled up in front of a used-furniture store on Blue Hill Ave, they thought they were alone.

The store was in the first floor of a three-story wooden building with peeling gray paint. There was a liquor store on one side, and an appliance repair shop on the other. The store looked as if it had once sold groceries. The big windows in the front were frosted with the cold. A big sign pasted inside the half window of the front door read USED AND NEW FURNITURE: BUY OR RENT. An old maroon Dodge van was parked on the street in front of the store. It had no hubcaps. The Ukes double-parked their Suburban beside it and walked to the store, leaving the motor running. As they walked toward the store, one of the two men absently beeped the remote door lock device on his key chain. The taillights flashed once. The men went into the furniture store.

"We need to be pretty close behind them," Hawk said. "They don't look like they planning to stay long."

Hawk got out of the car. He had his big.44 Mag in his right hand. I got out my.38. There appeared to be only two guys, and I was sentimental about the little revolver. Hawk walked through the front door as if he was walking onto a yacht. The big.44 hung straight down by his right side. I glanced in both directions before I went in after him. Inside, behind the counter, a short, plump black man holding a sawed-off baseball bat was trying to keep his body between his wife and the two big white men. As we came in, one of the white men gestured at the baseball bat and laughed, and patted his leather coat over the belt area. He said something to his partner in a language not my own.

A small bell jingled on the door as it closed behind us, and both white men turned. I moved away from Hawk. Two targets are harder than one. The four of us stood looking at each other.

"S'happenin'?" Hawk said.

No one spoke. Hawk looked at the short black man.

"My name's Hawk," he said. "I'm on your side."

"Man says we sign this store over to him or he gonna kill us both. Her first."

The two white men looked at us with contempt. The one with the leather coat said to us, "Go way," and gestured toward the door. Hawk looked closely at both the big white men.

"Danylko Levkovych?" he said.

The man in the leather coat said, "Ya."

Without a word, Hawk raised the.44 Mag and shot him in the forehead. The man fell backward and lay dead on the floor with his head propped against the dirty green wall of the little store. The only sound was the silent resonance of the recent explosion and the woman, still shielded by her husband, whimpering softly. Hawk had already shifted the gun onto the second white man before the one in leather had hit the floor. The second man stared at Hawk with no expression. Most people are afraid of dying. If this guy was, he gave no sign.

"You speak English?" Hawk said to him.

The man didn't speak or move. He just kept looking at Hawk.

"He talked English to me," the shop owner said.

He was still holding the sawed-off bat, for which he had no use-and, in fact, never had. Hawk looked at the second white man. The white man looked back.

"Fadeyushka Badyrka?" Hawk said.

The man nodded.

"You know who I am," Hawk said.

The man shrugged.

"I was the guy protecting Luther Gillespie," Hawk said.

The man smiled faintly.

"I gonna kill you next," Hawk said.

The man continued to smile faintly.

"But not now," Hawk said.

He jerked his thumb toward the door.

"Beat it," he said.

The man shrugged slightly and walked straight past us and out the front door without ever looking at his partner on the floor. He beeped the car doors open and got in and drove away.

"I don't think we scared him," I said.

"No."

Hawk looked at the store owner.

"You been having any argument lately with Tony Marcus?" he said.

"I don't work with Tony anymore," the store owner said.

Hawk nodded.

"I gonna clean this up," he said. "But it gonna take a while. I was you I'd take the missus to a warm climate for a while."

"And what happens to my business?"

"Same thing will happen if you dead," Hawk said.

"You think they be back?"

"They be back," Hawk said. "I ain't always gonna be here."

The store owner nodded. His wife had stopped crying.

"We'll go to my sister," she said.

Her husband looked like dying might be better.

"Go there," Hawk said.

"It's in Arkansas," the store owner said.

Hawk grinned.

"Go there anyway," he said.

And we left.

In the car, I said, "That's why you didn't shoot him."

"What's why?"

"Because he wasn't scared," I said.

"Killing somebody ain't afraid to die ain't much justice," Hawk said.

"Or revenge," I said.

"I trying to get things back in balance," Hawk said. "That seem like justice to me."

"When you do it, it's revenge," I said. "When the state does it, it's society's revenge."

"Which it call justice," Hawk said.

"Exactly," I said. "Change places and handy-dandy."

Hawk grinned at me.

"Which be the justice," he said. "Which be the thief?"

"I think Shakespeare used is," I said. "Which is the justice."

"Shakespeare wasn't no brother," Hawk said.

"I knew that," I said.

"That didn't do much for anybody," Hawk said.

"Saved the storekeeper's ass," I said.

Hawk grunted.

"Storekeeper," he said. "Man runs a book out of there. Ukies didn't want the store, they wanted the book."

"What I haven't figured out," I said, "since this started, does Boots or whoever's running the enterprise think he can take over the crime commerce in an all-black neighborhood and staff it with white guys from Central Europe and the people will keep right on coming?"

"Maybe got a few Uncle Drobits for staffing," Hawk said. "Truth is, it don't matter. Some black people be more comfortable with a brother, but not all of them. Some black people figure you be a brother you can't be very good."

"You're so smart, why aren't you white?" I said.

Hawk nodded.

"And people need a bookie or a pimp or a guy to sell them blow, they generally need it bad enough so they do business with whoever's at the window. They want to place a bet and the only bookie there is Joseph Stalin"-Hawk shrugged-"they place the bet with Joe."

"The greater leveler," I said.

"Need," Hawk said.

"Yep."

We were quiet, sipping the beer, looking at the city-lit night.

"Now what," I said.

"We let the surviving Uke go back and tell what happened and we see what develops."

"Got anything longer-range than that?" I said.

"I thinking about taking Boots down, put a stop to the whole thing."

"And liberate Marshport?" I said.

"Yeah, sure," Hawk said. "That, too. You talk to Vinnie?"

"I've got him on standby."

"Might need him," Hawk said.

"I thought you didn't want him."

"Didn't want him protecting me," Hawk said. "Liberatin' Marshport be different."

"How Tony going to be feeling 'bout this?" I said.

Hawk stared at me.

"How come you talking funny?" he said.

"Been spending too much time with you."

"No such thing as too much time with me," Hawk said.

"So how's Tony going to react to this?" I said.

"Don't know," Hawk said.

"We don't want to fight a two-front war," I said.

" 'Less we have to."

"Think about it from where Tony's standing," I said. "He doesn't like Podolak any better than anyone else does. He's just allied so his son-in-law can feel like a big shot and his daughter won't be widowed."

"None of that my problem," Hawk said.

"So you knock off one of the Ukulele soldiers and Podolak will see it as not part of the deal."

"And Podolak get on Tony's case. Tony supposed to protect the Ukes, like Podolak s'posed to protect… what's that kid's name?"

"How could you forget," I said. "Brock Rimbaud."

"Yeah. But if I tell Tony I ain't killing no more street soldiers, Tony takes credit for it, and all be well."

"And when Podolak's ready to fall over," I said, "Tony might even help you push."

"So we don't fight Tony. We get him on our side."

"For the moment."

"Like Hitler and Stalin and the nonaggression pact," Hawk said.

"How you know about Hitler and Stalin," I said.

"Heard some white guys talking," Hawk said.

"Think Tony will buy it?" I said.

"Sure," Hawk said. "Easier than fighting us about it."

"You think?" I said.

"We hard to fight," Hawk said.

"But oh so easy to love," I said.

I went to the refrigerator and got out two more cans of beer. It was late. I stood beside Hawk and looked down at the quiet street. A yellow cab cruised down Boylston Street. Probably going to the Four Seasons.

"So if Tony buys it," I said, "all we got to do is go up to Marshport and take over the city."

"That be the plan," Hawk said.

"Any operational details?" I said. "Like, how?"

"I already give you the big picture," Hawk said. "You supposed to contribute something."

"How about I learn to say 'don't shoot' in Ukrainian?" I said.

We sat in the car and looked at the meeting site.

"Tony buys it," Hawk said. "But he want to be sure Boots buy it, and Boots wants this meeting."

"Ty Bop and Junior," I said.

Hawk nodded.

"Leaning on the front fender of the black Escalade," he said. "Junior liable to break it."

A silver Mercedes sedan pulled up and double-parked by the pavilion. There were two Marshport police cars with it, fore and aft.

"That would be Boots," I said.

"With escort," Hawk said.

"He is the mayor of Marshport," I said.

Hawk grinned at me.

"So far," he said.

Four Marshport cops got out of the police cars and walked to the pavilion, and stood, one in each corner, and waited. Tony got out of the Escalade and walked to the pavilion with Leonard, the handsome black guy we'd met before. Leonard was wearing a dark cashmere overcoat that fitted him perfectly. You know you're with a clothes guy when he gets his overcoats made.

"Our turn," Hawk said. "Boots like to make the grand entrance."

It was breezy on the beachfront, and I wanted to zip up my leather jacket, but it would have meant zipping my gun inside the jacket, so I settled for shivering a little. Hawk showed no sign of cold. He never did. He never seemed hot, either. Mortality rested very lightly on him. As we passed Ty Bop, I pretended to shoot him, dropping my thumb on my forefinger. Junior smiled faintly. Ty Bop ignored me. He may not have even seen me as he stood, jittering in place by the big SUV, thinking long thoughts about shooting somebody.

"Kid gets any skinnier," I said to Hawk, "his gun will be shooting him."

"Don't be dissing Ty Bop," Hawk said. "Ain't many people can shoot better."

"Or more willingly," I said.

"Yeah," Hawk said. "Ty Bop like the work."

We stepped into the pavilion with Tony and Leonard and the four Marshport cops. As soon as we did, Boots stepped out of his Mercedes. With him was Fadeyushka Badyrka, the big Ukrainian gunboat that Hawk had declined to kill.

"We may be forming a lasting friendship with Fadeyushka," Hawk said.

"Remembering his name is a good start," I said.

It was early April and cool with the wind coming off the water. But Boots was dressed for deep January. He had on a fur-lined cap with earflaps that tied under the chin, and a heavy, dark woolen overcoat with a black mouton collar snuggled up under his mean chin. His hands were in his pockets. His narrow shoulders were hunched. He walked straight up to Hawk and stood about a foot away.

"Okay," he said, "tell me."

I was standing a little back from Hawk and Boots and Tony, trying to find a spot where I could be useful if the ball went up. It was hard to find a place where someone couldn't shoot me dead. But it almost always is, if you think about it. I did what I could. I noticed that Leonard was having the same locational problems. The cops at each corner of the pavilion were sort of an issue for both of us. There were a few people on the beach. Some were walking dogs or small children, or both. Some were picking up things. I was never quite clear on what it was that people collected on beaches. No one paid any attention to the group in the pavilion.

"I shot one of your people," Hawk said. "Not realizin' he under Tony's protection. Apologize for that. Told Tony and I'll tell you. Long as you and Tony got a deal goin', I honor it."

"What kind of deal you think Tony and I got," Boots said.

"Don't know," Hawk said, "don't care. Tony says your people are protected. That be my deal."

Fadeyushka was looking at Hawk. I was looking at Fadeyushka. So was the handsome guy with Tony.

"You agree with that?" Boots said to Tony.

Tony nodded.

"Speak up," Boots said.

"I agree," Tony said.

I knew Tony wanted to kick Boots right out into the traffic on Revere Beach Boulevard, but he didn't show it. He seemed almost respectful when he spoke to Boots. Which I knew to be a crock. Nobody respected Boots. People were afraid of him, and with good reason. But it had little to do with respect. I was pretty sure Boots didn't know about this distinction, and if he did know, he didn't care. Boots glanced at me for the first time.

"How about this jerk-off?" he said.

I nodded at Hawk.

"I'm with him," I said.

"And you do what he says?" Boots asked me.

"I do."

Boots sort of snorted. He turned to the big Ukrainian.

"You down with this?" he said.

"Down?" Fadeyushka said.

"Learn the fucking language," Boots said. "Are you fucking okay with it."

Fadeyushka looked straight at Hawk for a time.

"For now," he said. "I am down."

Some seagulls hopped near the pavilion, looking for food. The wind blew a hamburger wrapper past them. Two of them flew up and lighted on it and tore at it and found no sustenance, and turned away.

"Remember something valuable," Boots said to Hawk. "Do not fuck with me."

Hawk seemed to smile a little.

"Long as you down with Tony," Hawk said. "You down with me."

Boots looked hard at Hawk for another moment, then turned and walked to the car. Fadeyushka followed him and the cops peeled off behind them. The rest of us stood as the procession pulled away, leaving us alone with the wind and the seagulls.