Without remorse - Tom Clancy [141]
'They let you do that?' Zacharias asked.
Grishanov chuckled, shaking his head. 'No, but I do it anyway.'
'Good for you,' Robin said with a smile of his own, remembering what it was like. He thought of one particular afternoon, flying out of Mountain Home Air Force Base one February day in 1964.
'It is how God must feel, yes? All alone. You can ignore the noise of the engine. For me it just goes away after a few minutes. Is it the same for you?'
'Yeah; if your helmet fits right.'
'That is the real reason I fly,' Grishanov lied. 'All the other rubbish, the paperwork, and the mechanical things, and the lectures, they are the price. To be up there, all alone, just like when I was a boy skiing in the woods - but better. You can see so far on a clear winter day.' He handed Zacharias the flask again. 'Do you suppose these little savages understand that?'
'Probably not.' He wavered for a moment. Well, he'd already had one. Another couldn't hurt, could it? Zacharias took another swallow.
'What I do, Robin, I hold the stick just in my fingertips, like this.' He demonstrated with the top of the flask. 'I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them, the world is different. Then I am not part of the world anymore. I am something else - an angel, perhaps,' he said with good humor. 'Then I possess the sky as I would like to possess a woman, but it is never quite the same. The best feelings are supposed to be alone, I think.'
This guy really understands, doesn't he? He really understands flying. 'You a poet or something?'
'I love poetry. I do not have the talent to make it, but that does not prevent me from reading it, and memorizing it, feeling what the poet tells me to feel,' Grishanov said quietly, actually meaning what he said as he watched the American's eyes lose focus, becoming dreamy. 'We are much alike, my friend.'
'What's the story on Ju-Ju?' Tucker asked.
'Looks like a ripoff. He got careless. One of yours, eh?' Charon said.
'Yeah, he moved a lot for us.'
'Who did it?' They were in the Main Branch of the Enoch Pratt Free Library, hidden in some rows, an ideal place, really. Hard to approach without being spotted, and impossible to bug. Even though a quiet place, there were just too many of the little alcoves.
'No telling, Henry. Ryan and Douglas were there, and it didn't look to me like they had much. Hey, you going to get that worked up over one pusher?'
'You know better than that, but it puts a little dent in things. Never had one of mine wasted before.'
'You know better than that, Henry.' Charon flipped through some pages. 'It's a high-risk business. Somebody wanted a little cash, maybe some drugs, too, maybe break into the business quick? Look for a new pusher selling your stuff, maybe. Hell, as good as they were on the hit, maybe you could reach an understanding with 'em.'
'I have enough dealers. And making peace like that is bad for business. How they do 'em?'
'Very professional. Two in the head each. Douglas was talking like it was a mob hit.'
Tucker turned his head. 'Oh?'
Charon spoke calmly, his back to the man. 'Henry, this wasn't the outfit. Tony isn't going to do anything like that, is he?'
'Probably not.' But Eddie might.
'I need something,' Charon said next.
'What?'
'A dealer. What did you expect, a tip on the second at Pimlico?'
Too many of 'em are mine now, remember?' It had been all right - better than that, really - to use Charon to eliminate the major competition, but as Tucker had consolidated his control on the local trade, he was able to target fewer and fewer independent operators for judicial elimination. That was particularly true of the majors. He had systematically picked out people with whom he had no interest in working, and the few who were left might be useful allies rather than rivals, if he could only find a way to negotiate with them.
'If you want me to be able to protect you, Henry,