Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [55]
"He's got to be crazy. Sooner or later…"
"Yeah. That's what everybody's been saying. But he's still out there."
The Prof took a deep breath. "He does work too."
"For hire?"
"That's the word."
"He did this to you?"
"I'm on my cart, talking to a couple of the working girls, handing out my religious rap. Like I'm the man to deal with the van, you know?"
"Yeah."
"Car pulls up. Station wagon. Spanish guy gets out. Short, heavy–built dude. Big diamond hanging from his ear. Tells me he has someone wants to talk to me. I tell him that I bring the Word to the people, so the people got to come to me. The Spanish guy don't blink an eye. Pulls a piece right there in the street. Tells me he has to bring me, don't matter what condition I arrive in. I tell him not to get crazy—how am I supposed to go, walk? He calls to another guy. They each grab one end of my cart, put me in the back of the wagon. The girls just faded. They're hijacking me off the street, nobody's paying attention."
The Prof's voice was the same quiet flow, his eyes focused on someplace else.
"They take me to one of the piers. Past where they have the big ships. I'm not blindfolded or anything. They haul me inside this old building at the end of the pier. Place is falling apart: big holes in the roof, smells like a garbage dump.
"Guy's waiting for us. Tall, maybe six two, six three. Couldn't weigh more than one and a quarter."
"That thin?"
"Skinny as a razor blade, man. Arms like matchsticks. You'd look like a weightlifter next to him."
"Mortay?"
"Oh, yeah. Mortay. No mystery—he tells me who he is. Like his name is supposed to stand for something. He got this weird voice. Real thin, high–pitched. He says that he heard I been asking around. About the Ghost Van. He says that's a bad thing to do. Could make him mad, I keep doing that.
"I rap to him. Try my crazy act. He don't go for it. He says he knows me too. Calls my name—the Prophet. Asks, if I know the Word, why I can't cure myself. Fix my own legs.
"I tell him no man can change the will of the Lord. He comes over to me, kneels down, starts on me with his hands, pressing spots on my face, watching me. Then he says, You lie. Just like that. You lie. He slaps me right off the cart, tells me to stand up. For a minute, I thought my legs stopped working for real…but I got to my feet.
"He says he's going to have to show me it's a mistake to ask questions. I know bodywork's coming up. I got no place to go. I fucked up, brother," the little man said, his voice shaking. "I was scared. You know I don't spook easy, but this freak… It was like he was sending out waves. Hurting me inside, and he wasn't even touching me."
I felt Belle behind me. "Wait outside," I told her. I didn't know what was coming, but it wasn't for her to hear.
"It's all right, Prof," I said to my brother, squeezing his arm.
His voice went sad. Shamed. "No, it ain't all right. I lost control, Burke. I put Max's name out. I told this freak the Silent One was my brother. I ran the whole rap. Told him the widow–making wind would tear down his house if he messed with me. I figured if he knew I was hooked up with Max…"
"It's the truth. And he's not the only one."
The Prof's face was deep–down sad. "You know what he did? He smiled, man. He said he wanted Max. In a match. Said he made me walk, he could make Max talk. The freak said he had word out for months that he wanted to meet Max—that Max was dog–yellow.
"I went dumb. It wasn't no act. It was the devil talking to me, standing right there. He said he's been looking for Max's dojo. When he finds it, he's going to take it for himself.
"And then he asked me where it was. Smiling at me. Saying since Max was my brother and all, I had to know.
"I told him I didn't. I know when a man is lying, he says. Looks at me. Right through me.
"The Spanish guy says something. Mortay flicks his wrist at the Spanish guy's face like he's brushing away a fly. Blood