Strega - Andrew H. Vachss [51]
"That won't work either, Burke. You can make the perpetrator disappear from the earth, but not from inside the child's mind."
I didn't say anything. Immaculata's face was calm, her eyes watchful but showing nothing. I looked at Max—his face was a concrete mask. He wasn't buying this any more than I was.
"What's this got to do with the tape recorder, Mac?" I asked her.
"In my office, the child has to not just be safe, she has to feel safe. She has to learn she can control parts of her life. She has to learn she has the right to say 'No!' Okay?"
"Okay."
"Most of the kids have been involved in a conspiracy of silence. The offenders make them promise not to tell—keep it a secret. Or they make the kids believe something terrible will happen if they do. So I tell them if there's something they don't want to go on the tape recorder, all they have to do is reach over and turn it off. So they are in control."
"And they turn it off when they get to the stuff you need for court?"
"Sometimes they do," she said.
I lit another smoke and closed my eyes, buying some time to think. When it came to me it was so simple I was sure they'd already thought of it.
"Use two tape recorders," I told Mac.
"Two tape recorders?"
"Sure. The one on top of the table—the one the kids can turn off if they want, right? And you keep another one out of sight, maybe under the table or something. And you let that one run all the time. So even when they turn off the first one, you still have everything on tape."
Immaculata put the two fingernails back against her cheek, thinking it over. "That would be dishonest," she told me.
"Better to let some scumbag walk away laughing?" I asked.
She waited a second or two. "No," she said. And a smile broke across her lovely face. "That's what we'll do."
Max made an "I told you so" gesture to his woman, now smiling himself. Immaculata reached over and squeezed my hand, and Max's smile broadened.
Immaculata was the first woman ever to come into our clubhouse. She'd be the last. Like all truly dangerous beasts, Max would mate for life.
I left them with each other and went in the back to make my call.
32
IT WAS just getting dark as I walked through the catacombs behind the warehouse. The cellar was one of many that ran under all the buildings on the block. The City Planning Office sold me a set of the plans years ago, and the Mole figured out how we could make all the basements connect to each other by drilling a few holes. It took almost a month for us to finish, but once you got to the warehouse basement, you could get out a dozen different ways. We originally did it just in case we had to leave quickly, but once we were under there, the Mole showed me how we could tap into the telephone lines in the other buildings. The warehouse is owned by some corporation Mama Wong set up, but it belongs to Max. His temple is upstairs, and the rest of the space is for whatever we need. For Mama, it's a warehouse. For me, it's the post office.
I found the metal footlocker, rooted through it past the stuff we kept there—coats, hats, glasses, anything to make you look different. I found the field telephone and the set of alligator clips. I walked through our cellar into the next basement. Above us was a firm of Chinese architects, and they never worked late. I clipped the field phone onto the junction points the Mole had shown me and I got a dial tone right away. I used the little box that looked like the face of a calculator and punched out the number Julio had written down, lit a cigarette, and waited.
I didn't have long to wait—she must have been sitting by the phone. "Hello." It was the redhead.
"Hey, baby," I leered into the mouthpiece, "you free tomorrow night?" She got it right away.
"Sure. What time will you pick me up?"
"I'm going to be working late. I'll meet you, okay?"
"Where?"
"Same place—nine o clock," I told her, and unplugged the phone.
I put everything back