Blossom - Andrew H. Vachss [85]
I handed her two fifties. She took it, a reluctant look on her face. "You really comin' back?"
"Woman, have I said one word to you that has not been the truth?" the Prof snapped out at her, switching to his preacher's voice. "Do not confuse me with panderers and pimps, child. What I say shall come to pass, for it is written that children of the night shall forever find each other in the dark."
She turned, started down the alley to a grime–colored building. The Prof watched her walk, shifted back to his cornerboy's voice. "Ain't no fake in that shake, brothers."
She looked back once over her shoulder, waved once, and she was gone.
159
I UNLOCKED the purple car. The inside of the door was covered with a thick slab of clear plastic right up to the windowsill. I dropped into the thinly padded bucket seat, turned the key. The engine crackled into life. I moved the pistol–grip shift lever into Drive and the beast lurched, straining against the brake.
The Lincoln pulled away. I followed.
The car was an old Plymouth Barracuda, a 1970s pony car. The hood went on forever, the trunk was tiny, the back seat just a padded shelf. The roof was lined with the same clear plastic, held up with cotter pins. I nursed the gas gingerly, getting the feel. The windshield was streaky, hard to see through.
At a light on Broadway, a maroon Mustang with a ground–scraper nose sloping down from gigantic rear tires pulled alongside. Revved its engine in the universal challenge. I ignored him. His passenger shouted across: "Is that a real one, man?"
A real what? The light flashed green and the Mustang peeled out. I stomped the gas experimentally and the 'Cuda catapulted forward with a roar, closing the distance in a heartbeat. I backed off quickly, hearing the exhausts pop and bubble. Quickly turned into a side street.
160
INSIDE VIRGIL'S garage, overhead lights on. I walked around the 'Cuda. Saw what had brought out the challenge from the Mustang. On the car's rear deck lid, chrome letters: Hemi.
"Why'd the Mole send me such a rocket ship?" I asked the Prof. "Man said you packing mucho weight, you got to haul the freight." He took me through the car, showing me how it worked. "See how this stuff is hinged against the hood? You just pull the pins and the panels slide right down."
"What is this stuff? Lexan?"
"The Mole said it was like that, only better. Only thing, you can't roll down the windows, they're too thick. Windshield's same stuff. So's the back window."
"It's beautiful, Prof. You know what I need it for?"
"The Mole said it was a shark cage. It ain't what you know, it's what you show."
"I never expected to see you out here."
"What was I gonna do with the ride, Clyde? Ship it UPS? The Mole paid the toll."
"I was going to fly back, bring it over myself."
"No beef, chief. It was a nice day, I felt like a drive."
"Thanks, Prof."
"Way I figure it, schoolboy, you and this hillbilly here, you ain't got a clue between you. What's the plan, man?"
161
DARKNESS SURROUNDED the house, island of light in the living room. I told the Prof everything. Almost everything.
"It could play the way you say, 'home. You park that tank in the spot, the cops stake out the terrain, Virgil covers your back. The freak smokes the car, the cops move in, you take off. Virgil makes sure nobody cheats, right?"
"That's it."
"Where you gonna get the passenger, go parking with you?"
"One of those sex shops. They got them all over the place. Get one of those life–size blow–up dolls. He'll never know the difference."
The Prof lit a smoke, face a mask. "What if he don't show, bro'?"
"He will."
"Who told you?"
I looked in his eyes, not hiding it anymore. "Wesley."
"Yeah, I knew it would be true. The monster's in the ground, but he's still around."
"It's like he talked to me."
"Yeah, you goin' spiritual on me, brother? Talking to spooks? That's okay, if you can pay."
"There never was a better man–hunter, Prof. You know it as well as I do."
"You sayin' he taught you how to do