Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [96]
I went over to the desk, moved the papers to one side, reached for the phone. Belle was standing by the couch, watching.
"Come here," I said, watching her face. When she got close, I made one last try.
"I don't think he's coming here. But if he does, it'll take him a while to get through that door. He does, and this whole building's going up. You understand?"
"Yes."
"You sure? I can't use the guns. There's no way to shoot through that door, and if he gets inside, there's no room. No time. He's too fast. Mortay makes it inside here, there's no gunshots. Just one big boom."
"I know."
"You can work with me. I'll keep my promise. But I don't want you to stay here. You take the car, go back to your house. I'll call…"
"Forget it."
"I'll call you when I need you, okay? Not when it's over. Before that. When I need a driver," I said, trying my last hope.
She put her hands on her hips, her legs spread wide apart. "You want me to take Pansy with me?"
"No."
Her dark eyes were on fire. "One bitch is good enough to die with you, not the other, huh?"
"Belle…Pansy wouldn't go with you."
"That's bullshit. You could get her out of here. You just think she might do you some good."
I threw up my hands. "I give up," I told her.
"Burke, don't give up. I'm not asking you to give up. Let it play out, okay?"
"Okay," I said, reaching for her hand.
She sat on the corner of the desk, looking down at me. "Where do you think you go when you die? You think we all go to the same place?"
"I don't know."
"This guy comes here, we'll find out together," she said, holding my hand tight.
111
I STARTED going through the papers piled on my desk. Smoking and thinking. Belle put her hand on my shoulder. "You want some paper, write stuff down?"
"No. I'm not used to working like that. I have to do it in my head."
"Can I help?"
"Not yet."
I went back to the files, working over the clips on the Ghost Van, sorting what I had into little boxes inside my head. Stacking them in rows, building a foundation. You work from the ground up, brick by brick. When you reach out your hand for a brick and it's not there, you've found the door. Whatever's missing, that's where you have to look.
The man who played with death wanted Max. I wanted him. He had all the cards, but I had one edge. I knew something he never would. How to be afraid.
The edge burned at the corners of my guts.
Seven–thirty. I picked up the phone. All clear. Dialed Mama. She answered in the middle of the first ring.
"Gardens."
"It's me. What?"
"Gone."
"All of them?"
"All gone. Maybe three weeks, okay?"
"Perfect."
"You have two calls. Man called Marques, couple hours ago. And the cop. McGowan. Maybe ten minutes ago."
She gave me the numbers. McGowan was calling from the Runaway Squad; I didn't recognize the other one.
"I'm off, Mama."
"You come soon?"
"Soon."
I lit a smoke. Ten minutes ago… I dialed McGowan. He answered himself.
"You called me?"
"We got to meet, pal. Now."
"I'm hot."
"Just say where."
"Battery Park. Where they park to go out to the Statue of Liberty. The benches facing the water."
"Thirty minutes?"
"I'll be there."
Belle was behind me, her hands on my shoulders. I told her the number Mama gave me for Marques.
"That the same one you have?"
She went into the back room, came out with her purse, fumbled around. Pulled out a little red leather book, thumbed through the pages. She looked up. "No."
I punched the number into the phone. A woman's voice came on the line.
"Mr. Dupree's office," she said, a coked–up giggle in her voice.
"Get Marques," I told her.
The pimp took the phone. "Yes?" Like an executive.
"You called me a couple of hours ago?"
"Who's this?"
"You called at the Chinese Embassy, okay?"
"Oh, yeah. I get you. Look, man, I got some dynamite stuff. This guy who hangs with him, he…"
"Hold up," I barked, listening hard.