Andrew Vachss

by Blue Belle

  I do. I swear I do this time. She nestled against me. I knew you were going to rescue me.

  She kissed me full on the mouth, stabbing me with her tongue. I pulled back from her, watching the lights dance in her dark eyes. The man we're going to see, millions of his people died because some slimy little psychopath decided their blood was bad. The psychopath, he's in the ground. The maggots are eating his body, and if there's a god, his soul is burning. And there's a country called Israel where there used to be only desert.

  I squeezed her gently. Okay?

  She let the whole smile go this time. Okay.

  CONTENTS

  102

  I showed Belle where to pull in. Flash the high beams three times, then shut the lights off.

  Something's coming, she said, peering into the darkness.

  Dogs, I told her. Just be quiet.

  They came in a pack. Simba didn't wait to make his entrance like he usually does. There was a tawny flash and a light thump as he landed on the hood of the Plymouth, baring his fangs as he looked through the windshield. Belle looked back at him. Is that a wolf?

  City wolf, I told her. And that's his pack - pointing to the river of beasts flowing around the car.

  What d'we do?

  Wait.

  The kid came through the crowd, bumping dogs out of his way like the Mole does. He called to Simba. The dog jumped off the hood, followed the kid around to the driver's side. Switch places with me, I told Belle. I hit the switch. The window came down. Simba's lupine face popped into the opening.

  Simba-witz! I greeted him.

  Simba sniffed, poking his nose past me to look at Belle. A low growl came out of his throat. The pack went quiet. It's okay, Terry, I told the boy. This is Belle - she's with me.

  The kid was wearing a dirty jumpsuit, a tool belt around his waist. A regular mini-Mole. Michelle would be thrilled.

  I'll open the gate, he said.

  I drove the Plymouth a few feet into the yard, watching the gates close behind us. I'm going to get out now, I told Belle. I'll come around and let you out. The dogs will be with us, but they're okay. Don't be scared.

  Too late for that, she muttered.

  When I let her out, she stepped to the ground. The dogs moved in close. Should I pat them? she asked.

  Terry laughed. Follow me, he said.

  I took Belle's hand as we moved through the junkyard. Simba flashed ahead of us in a Z pattern, working the ground. The dogs came close, barking at each other, not paying much attention to us.

  The Mole was sitting on a cut-down oil drum a few feet from his underground bunker. He got up when he saw us coming, pulling a slab of something white from his overalls. He threw it in a loping motion, like it was a grenade. The dogs chased off.

  Before I could open my mouth, Terry took over. Mole, this is Belle. Belle is Burke's friend. She came with him. I'm Terry, he said, holding out his hand. Belle shook it, gravely.

  The Mole didn't offer to shake hands, pointing at more of the cut-down oil drums like they were deck chairs on his yacht.

  I should stay? Terry asked.

  The Mole looked at me. I nodded. The kid reached in his tool belt, pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a wooden match. He gets something from everyone in his family.

  Mole, I brought Belle here because she may need a place to run to. Soon. She's our people. She's mine, okay?

  Okay.

  I wanted you to get a look at her. She has to come back in a hurry, you'll know her.

  He nodded.

  Can Terry take her around - show her the other ways in?

  He nodded at the boy. Terry came over to Belle, holding out his hand. Come on, he said. She went meekly as a child, towering over the kid.

  I moved my oil-drum seat closer to the Mole. I'm working on something. The Ghost Van. The Prof was nosing around. Guy named Mortay caught him. Broke both his legs. Told him to stay away.

  The Mole nodded, waiting.

  I don't know if this Mortay is fronting off the van or he's got his own list. He told the Prof he wanted Max. In a duel. He's been moving on other karateka around the city. I can't bring Max into this until I know what the score is.

  The Mole watched me as if I was one of his experiments. Waiting for something to happen.

  I'm meeting him. Tonight. Midnight. I've got backup. I'll call you when I get back. You don't hear from me, you call Davidson. The lawyer. You know him, right?

  Yes.

  If I don't call you, I'll probably be locked up. Tell Davidson I'm good for the cash. Tell him to call Mama if he needs bail money.

  Okay.

  Thanks, Mole.

  There's more? he asked. I couldn't see his eyes through the Coke-bottle lenses.

  Maybe. Maybe a lot more. I got pieces, but they may be two different puzzles. After tonight I should know enough to come and ask you.

  He nodded. Terry came back, leading Belle by the hand. She knows the way, he said, standing by the Mole.

  Take them back to the car, the Mole told him. Nodding goodbye to me and Belle.

  CONTENTS

  103

  When we crossed the Triboro, I told Belle to bear left.

  That's toward Queens.

  I know. You're going home. I need the car. I'll come back when it's over.

  I want . . .

  I don't care what you want. It's way past nine and I'm meeting a man at midnight. You're not coming. And I'm not telling you again.

  She drove in silence for a few minutes. Burke, what's that orange cloth you put in your pocket?

  I lit a smoke. A sign. So I'll be recognized.

  What's it mean?

  Signs mean different things to different people, right? Middle-class kid, he's on his way to school. There's this bully waiting for him. Middle-class kid, he don't want to fight, but he don't want to look chicken. So he wraps his hand in bandages, says he cut himself. Understand?

  Yes.

  You wear the same bandages in the places I was raised, just makes you an easier target. Different rules, okay?

  Okay.

  We pulled up outside her cottage. Ten o'clock. I followed her inside. She didn't turn on the lights.

  Burke, don't hate me for asking this . . .

  What?

  Are you scared?

  Scared to death.

  Then . . .

  I'm more scared not to go. I have to find out. Get some answers.

  Let's run, she said, standing close to me in the dark.

  Let's just go. We can be in Chicago by tomorrow. Or anyplace you want to go. I've got money stashed. Right here in the house. We can . . .

  No.

  She turned away from me. What scares you?

  This guy I have to meet - he's a psychopath. Behind the walls, being a psychopath is like walking a high-wire. Guys are scared of a man with eyes like an alligator's. That's good - makes people keep their distance. But it's no good to scare people too much. Just the possibility you might get hurt, that keeps you away. But if there's no doubt about it, if you know the guy's coming for you, you take him first. If you can.

  And that's what you need to find out?

  That's it.

  She moved close to me again, whispering in the dark room. Why take a chance?

  It's not that simple. I can't do anything until I find out. I don't know what else's out there.

  Burke, you come back here. You come back here to me.

  I will. As best I can.

  I lit a last cigarette, pulled her to me. You don't see me by tomorrow morning, drive back to the junkyard. The Mole will know who to contact, what to do.

  You'll come back. I've got something for you.

  I know you do, I said, giving her a kiss.

  CONTENTS

  104

  Eleven-fifteen. I was parked down the street from the playground. Breathing deep through my nose, sucking the air into my belly, expanding my chest as I let out each breath. Fear snapped around inside me. I gathered it together in
a spot in my chest. Worked my mind, putting a fluid box around the fear. Testing the box, pushing it in different directions. I concentrated on the box, shooting clean, cold beams at it. Breaking it into little pieces. Smaller and smaller. Seeing the fear-blob break up into little liquid pieces inside me. Like tears. I held my hands out in front of me, willing the little pieces of fear to come out the ends of my fingers. Feeling them come. Some came out my eyes.

  I felt so tired. Closed my eyes for a second. My watch said eleven-forty. Time.

  I nosed the Plymouth up on the sidewalk, up to the playground gate. I jumped out, holding the heavy bolt-cutters in two hands. The chain around the fence gave way with one squeeze. I pulled the Plymouth inside the dark playground. Got out and closed the gate behind me. I made a slow circle of the yard, stopped when the Plymouth was pointed back at the street.

  I got out, taking a six-pack of beer with me. Glass bottles. Lined them up on the trunk of the car, all in a row. Parallel to the building where the shooter would be waiting. I popped the top off one, held it to my lips. Lit a cigarette. Slouched against the car to wait.

  The tip of my cigarette glowed. The streetlights didn't reach the corners of the buildings ringing the playground, but it was bright enough where I stood.

  You're early, punk. A voice from the shadows.

  I dragged on my cigarette, keeping both hands in sight. Two men walked toward me from the left. One more from the right. I watched them, not moving. Well-built Spanish guy in a shortsleeved white guyabera shirt. Dark-haired white man in a leather jacket. And a tall man in a white T-shirt and white pants. He looked like a stick figure moving toward me. Mortay.

  Step away from the car, he said. His voice was a whisper-hiss, snake-thin.

  The Spanish guy came to meet me. I held my hands away from my body as he searched. A diamond glinted in his ear. A fat diamond, not a stud.

  Empty, he said, stepping back.

  Mortay stopped four feet from me. His face was at the end of a long, thin neck, so small I could have covered it with my hand. Hair cropped close - l could see the shine of his scalp. A heavy shelf of bone linked his eyebrows, bulging forward, a visor over his eyes.

  I don't recognize the school, he said. Meaning the orange headband. Do you fight?

  I'm just a student.

  You wanted to meet me?

  Thank you for coming, I said, my voice gentle and low. You had a dispute with a friend of mine. A small black man. On a cart.

  He stood stone-still, waiting.

  The dispute was our fault, and we apologize. He wasn't looking for you. We don't know anything about you. We don't want to know.

  What was he looking for?

  The Ghost Van.

  Don't look for the Ghost Van, Mortay hissed. You wouldn't like it if you found it.

  I'm not looking for it. I'm off the case. I just wanted to tell you to your face. We have no quarrel with you - whatever you did, it was just business, okay?

  I turned to go.

  Stay where you are.

  I faced him. He hadn't moved.

  I gave the little nigger a message. Didn't you get it?

  I just told you we did.

  About Max . Max the Silent. Max the warrior . I called him out. I want to meet him.

  If I see him, I'll tell him.

  You know my name? You play with me, you play with death.

  I'm not playing.

  I know you. Burke. That's you, right?

  Yeah.

  Max is your man. Everyone knows that - it's all over the street. Everyone says he's the best. He's not. It's me. Me. He wants to admit it, go down on one knee, he can live. Otherwise, we fight.

  You can't make him fight.

  I can make anyone fight. I spit on dojo floors. I killed a kendo master with his own sword. Everybody has a button. He opened his hands, a gambler fanning a handful of aces. I push the buttons.

  Let it go, I said.

  He moved in on top of me. Spit full in my face. I didn't move, watching his eyes.

  You're better than I thought, he whispered. You're too old to jump if I call your mother a name. But you spit in an ex-con's face, he has to fight.

  I won't fight you.

  You couldn't fight me, pussy. I felt my face rock to the side, blood in the corner of my mouth. Never saw that, did you?

  No, I answered him, chewing on my lip, my mind back in an alley when I faced another man years ago. Wishing I had a gun, glad I didn't.

  I'm the fastest man there is. Max, he's nothing but a tough guy. I'll kill him in a heartbeat - he'll never see what does it.

  You can't make him fight - he doesn't fight just 'cause you call his name.

  What if I snap your spine, leave you in a wheelchair the rest of your life? You think that'll bring him around to see me?

  You can't do that either, I said, my voice soft. I'm not alone here.

  The Spanish guy laughed. I don't see nobody, he said, pulling an automatic from his belt.

  I raised my hands as though I was responding to the pistol. One of the beer bottles exploded. I took another step away from Mortay.

  There's a rifle squad on the roof. Night scopes and silencers.

  Mortay was ice, watching me.

  Want to see it again? I raised my hand. Another bottle exploded. El Canonero was the truth.

  I don't want any beef with you. You scared me good. I don't want anything to do with you. This is a walk-away. You can't hurt me, and you can't make Max fight you. It's over, get it?

  Mortay's voice was so low I had to lean forward to catch it. Tell Max. Tell him I know about the baby. Tell him I know about Flower. Tell him to come and see me. Come and see me, or the baby dies.

  I threw myself at him, screaming. I felt a chop in the ribs and I was on the ground. A flash of white and Mortay was gone. Bullets whined all around the playground. The dark-haired white guy went down. His body jumped as more bullets hit. Pieces of the building flew away.

  I crawled over to the car, pulled myself inside. I twisted the key, floored the gas, and blasted through the gate.

  CONTENTS

  105

  The Plymouth thundered toward the river, running without lights. I grabbed the highway, sliding into the late-night traffic, willing myself to slow down. My shoulders were hunched into my neck, tensing for the shot that never came. No sirens.

  A quick choice - my office or Belle's? My office was closer, but Mortay knew where it was. The Plymouth's license plates were smeared with dirt and Vaseline - nobody could call in an ID.

  I slipped through the Battery Tunnel, staying with traffic, one eye locked to the rearview mirror. Clear. I pulled the sleeves off the jacket I was wearing. The Velcro made a tearing sound. One sleeve went out the window on the Belt Parkway, the other a few miles down the road. I slipped out of the body of the jacket, dumped that too. The orange headband was the last to go, slipping away in the wind.

  Two blocks from Belle's. I stopped at a pay phone, pulling the pistol from under the floor mat. She answered on the first ring.

  Hello?

  It's me. You okay?

  I'm fine, honey.

  What's your favorite animal?

  She caught it. An alligator. It's clear, baby.

  I hung up, stepping back into the Plymouth. Her door opened as I was coming up the walk. I slipped into the darkness, the pistol in my hand.

  CONTENTS

  106

  I went to the couch, set the pistol down next to me, reached for the phone. Belle sat next to me, reaching out her band.

  Honey . . .

  Get away from me, Belle. I got work to do and I don't have much left.

  I punched the numbers, cursing Ma Bell for having different area codes for Queens and Manhattan. Mama picked up.

  It's me. No time to talk. You get to Immaculata. Get her to come and see you, okay?

  Okay.

  She has to go out of town for a while. With the baby, Mama. That's the important thing. With the baby. Let her
tell Max whatever she wants - visit friends, whatever. But get her out of here.

  Max too?

  Can you do it?

  Big problems for me. Business problems. In Boston, okay?

  Okay. But keep him low to the ground. Work quiet.

  Tomorrow morning he goes.

  With the baby.

  With baby. Like you say. Come by, tell me soon.

  Soon.

  Plenty help here, okay? Nobody hurt baby.

  Get them out of here, Mama.

  All done, she said.

  I took a deep breath. Belle was motionless next to me. I punched another number, taking the lighted cigarette she held out. The Mole's phone was picked up at his end.

  It's me. I'm okay.

  He hung up.

  I started to shake then. Couldn't get the cigarette into my mouth. Belle put her arms around me, pressing my head to her breasts.

  Let it go, I said, pushing her away. Let it come out - I know what to do.

  I let the fear snake its way through me, shaking my body, a terrier with a rat. I replayed the tape - back in the playground, down on the ground, a ribbon of killer bees death-darting between me and Mortay, El Canonero on the high ground keeping me safe.

  My body trembled in the terror seizure. Malaria flashes. Taking me back to the burned-out jungle in Biafra where fear grew thicker than the vines.

  I couldn't make it stop - didn't even try. I stayed quiet and still. Careful as a man with broken ribs - the kind that puncture a lung if you cough.

  Fear ran its race.

  When it stopped, I was soaking wet, limp. Drained. I closed my eyes then, sliding my face into Belle's lap.

  CONTENTS

  107

  It was still dark when I came around. I turned my head. My face slid across Belle's lap, her thighs slick with sweat. Or tears. I pulled myself up, next to her.

  Can you get a duffel bag out of the trunk of my car? I need to take a shower - I don't like the way I smell.

  You smell fine to me.

  Just do it, okay?

  She got up without another word. I took off my clothes. They felt heavy in my hands. I dropped them on the floor, stepped into the shower.