Dead and Gone - Andrew Vachss [121]
We walked for a couple of blocks, then Max rapped on a door the exact color—New York dirt—of the building it led into. The door opened. A Chinese man with a small meat-cleaver in his right hand stood there. He bowed to Max and stepped aside. I followed, still invisible.
This time, the exit was from the basement. But not into an alley, into a tunnel. It had obviously been there a long time, probably built by coolie labor for one of the Tongs, back when Chinatown was another country and tourists weren’t welcome.
When a branch of the tunnel finally took us into the cellar of Mama’s restaurant, I wasn’t surprised.
It took me a while to tell the story. When I was finished, the Prof spoke first. “Ain’t but one way for us to play, Schoolboy.”
The “us” came out of him so natural that I had to bite my lip to keep my face flat. Almost dying had really fucked up my internal controls.
“If we could find where he is …” the Mole offered.
“Not a prayer, Mayor,” the Prof chopped him off. “Motherfucker’s not putting himself on the spot. We want a date, we got to have the bait.”
“And he will have plenty of firepower behind him, Father,” Clarence added. “That team that tried to kill Burke …”
“Soldiers,” Mama said. “Very expensive.”
“What are you saying, Mama?” I asked her.
“All about money. This … place you talk about.”
“Sure, but …”
“Money is bait,” she finished for me. “Money bring him to you.”
“But he’s got all the—”
“No, he doesn’t, honey,” Michelle put in. “Mama’s right. If he did, why would he still be raising all this cash? You said the operation’s still going on, right? Still soliciting in the right places.”
“Sure!” the Prof backed her up. “Motherfucker had his whole rack stacked, he’d just jet off the set.”
“Okay, so he’s still collecting cash. How does that—?”
“Investor,” Mama said. “Big investor.”
I thought it through, taking my time. And kept coming up against the same flaw.
“No way this guy’s going to go face to face without knowing who he’s dealing with,” I told them. “I’d need an X-ray-proof ID, back-legend and all.”
“Didn’t your girl build you one of those before, youngblood?” the Prof asked.
“Wolfe won’t … won’t work with me anymore.”
“I can do it,” Michelle piped up.
Nobody said anything, waiting.
“I know just the man,” she said. “An old man. Lives in Key West. A real recluse. A rich recluse. Never goes out. I think he needs oxygen just to get around.”
“How’s that going to—?”
“Baby, let me tell it, all right? He’s an old man, if you understand what I’m telling you. He spends his money on anything that might give him back what he’s lost. Powdered rhino horn, tiger testicles—you know. Plus, he’s a real fascist. Anyone checks him out, they’ll see he’s been giving money to those save-the-race freakshows for years.”
“Yeah, fine. But this Darcadia—why bother? He’s already got his paradise right here, all that money.”
“No, sweetheart. There’s one thing he’s heard that’s guaranteed to give him back what he wants. Little girls. Fresh ones, understand? But he’s scared to death of trusting any kiddie pimp. Plus, he’s afraid to fly, so he only travels by boat. His own boat.”
“So maybe he’d want to buy a piece—”
“—a big piece.”
“—a big piece, okay, of this operation so he could have what he wanted … hell, be a king down there. Christ.”
“It sounds very perfect,” the Mole said.
“What are you saying?” Michelle challenged.
“That it is not true. It sounds as if you took Burke’s specifications and built a person to fit them.”
“Just some of it is built,” Michelle said, not resenting the Mole’s insight.
“How much?” I asked, already tired from