Day of Confession - Allan Folsom [90]
Suddenly he felt a tug on his pants, and he glanced down. An old woman was lifting his pant leg, looking at his shoes. Jerking back, he stepped away from her. It did no good. Another woman was right there. Younger, grinning. Her front teeth gone. One hand held up for money, the other reaching out to caress the material of his trousers. That he seemed to be a priest made no difference. Then something brushed his back and a hand went for his wallet.
In one motion he whirled, his own hand flashing out, coming up hard with a piece of material, dragging a wildly shrieking young woman up with it. The others shrank back, frightened, uncertain what to do. All the while the woman in his grasp thrashed and wailed, screaming as if she were being murdered. Abruptly Harry pulled her close. His face inches from hers.
“Hercules,” he said, quietly, “I want to find Hercules.”
THE DWARF SAT with one hand on his hip, the other holding his chin, staring intently at Harry. It was just past noon, and they were on a bench in a small, dusty square across the Tiber in the Gianicolo section of Rome. Midday traffic rumbled past on a boulevard at the square’s farthest boundary. But that was the extent of it; other than two elderly men on a bench farther down, they were alone. Except that Harry knew the Gypsies were there, somewhere, out of sight, watching.
“Because of you, the police found my tunnel. Because of you, I now live outdoors instead of in. Thank you very much.” Hercules was angry, and put out, literally.
“I’m sorry…”
“Yet here you are again. Back, I think, looking for help instead of the other way around.”
“Yes.”
Hercules deliberately looked off. “What do you want?”
“You, to follow someone. Two people, actually. You and the Gypsies.”
Hercules looked back. “Who?”
“A cardinal and a priest. People who know where my brother is… who will lead me to him.”
“A cardinal?”
“Yes.”
Hercules suddenly pulled a crutch under him and stood up. “No.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“With what?”
“Money.”
“How are you going to get it?”
“I have it….” Harry hesitated, then took Eaton’s money from his pocket. “How much do you want? How much for you and the Gypsies?”
Hercules looked at the money, then at Harry. “That’s more than I gave you. Where did you get it?”
“I got it—that’s all…. How much do you want?”
“More than that.”
“How much more?”
“You can get it?” Hercules was surprised.
“I think so…”
“If you can get so much money, why don’t you ask the people giving it to you to follow the cardinal?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why?—Can’t trust them?”
“Hercules, I’m asking for your help. I’m willing to pay for it. And I know you need it…”
Hercules said nothing.
“Before, you said you could not collect the reward on me because you would have to go to the police for it…. Money can help get you off the street.”
“Frankly, Mr. Harry, I would just as soon not be seen with you. The police want you. The police want me. We’re bad company. Twice as bad when we’re together…. I need you as a lawyer, not a banker. When you can do that, come back. Otherwise, arrivederci.”
Indignantly, Hercules grabbed for his other crutch. But Harry beat him to it and snatched it away.
Hercules’ eyes flashed angrily. “That’s not a very good idea.”
Harry ignored his protest. “Before, you said you wanted to see what I could do. How far my wits and courage would take me. This is how far, Hercules. In a big circle, right back to you…. I tried, it just didn’t work…” Harry’s voice softened, and he looked at Hercules for a long moment, then ever so slowly gave him back his crutch.
“I can’t do it alone, Hercules…. I need your help.”
Harry’s last words were barely out when the cellular phone rang in his jacket pocket, its shrill intrusion startling them both.
“—Yes… ,” Harry answered warily, his eyes darting around the park, as if this were a trick, the police on to him.
“Adrianna!” Quickly Harry turned away, covering his free ear against the sound of the traffic on the boulevard.
Hercules swung