Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [87]
"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.
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.