A Catskill Eagle

CHAPTER 39

“YOU’RE MAKING PROGRESS,” IVES SAID. “BUT don’t think because you have the maiden back that you don’t have to slay the dragon.”

Hawk and I were walking on either side of Ives along the waterfront down Atlantic Avenue. Everywhere the mobility was upward.

“We’ll kill Costigan,” I said.

“You have abandoned considerable government property along the way so far,” Ives said. The trousers of his seersucker suit were cuffed at least two inches above the tops of his wing-tipped cordovans.

“Really fuck up the GNP,” Hawk said.

“Not the point,” Ives said. “The car, the weapons, they have to be accounted for.”

“We could skip killing Costigan,” I said, “and concentrate on recovering the stuff we left in Pequod.”

“Not funny, McGee,” Ives said.

We turned into the waterfront park near the new Marriott and walked to the edge and looked at the water.

“What is your plan,” Ives said.

“We were thinking about stopping in here at Tia’s and having some fried squid and a couple of beers,” I said.

Ives frowned and looked at me hard. “You work too hard at being a wise guy, Lochinvar.”

“It’s worth the effort,” I said.

“Man ain’t lazy,” Hawk said.

“Listen, both of you. You think you’re a couple of hard cases. I know. I’ve seen a lot of hard cases. Well, you two hard cases have your balls in a squeeze, you understand. You are in hock to us and we’re calling in the chit. You want to learn about how hard a case someone can be you keep fucking around with us. You’ll find yourself hanging out to dry in a slow wind.”

“Eek,” I said.

“Keep it up,” Ives said. “You’ve got Costigan on one side, and us on the other. You don’t know what pressure is if we start squeezing.”

“Here,” Hawk said. “Why don’t you just give this a gentle squeeze to show you’re serious.”

Ives’s face flushed and small dimples formed near the corners of his thin mouth. He breathed in a large lungful of salt air and let it out, turning to lean on one of the capstan posts that lined the edge of the harbor.

“You know Costigan will be after you,” Ives said in a voice tight with the obvious effort of control. “He’s got a contract out on both of you now, and he has an organization that can find you anywhere in the world.”

“We’ll kill Costigan,” I said.

“If you have any doubts remember that he’ll kill you if you don’t, and without us to back you up, you won’t.”

“With or without,” Hawk said.

“And what do I tell my people when they ask me your plan?”

“Tell them you don’t know,” I said.

“And how do I look telling them that? I’m supposed to be running you.”

“They think so,” Hawk said, “you think so, but we don’t think so.”

“And,” I said, “we don’t have a plan. Yet.”

“Well, you weren’t signed aboard this cruise to sit around and soak up per diem. Every unproductive day is another expense I have to justify to the shoo flies. They want some cost efficiency here.”

“We artists,” Hawk said. “We ain’t cost efficient.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ives said.

“We know something,” I said, “we’ll tell you. But if it helps, we will do it. Not only because it’s him or us, but because we said we would. We’ll kill him.”

“Well, it better be quick, or by God there’s going to be some accounting called for.”

“First we have to find him,” I said.

“He’s not at Mill River,” Ives said. “We can tell you that.”

“And he’s not here in Waterfront Park,” I said. “So that’s already two places we don’t have to look.

“Gonna be easy,” Hawk said.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got so far,” Ives said. “We get more we’ll let you know. But you’ve got to check in.”

I nodded.

“You people did pretty good in Pequod with the two instructors,” I said.

“We have our moments,” Ives said. “You guys didn’t do so bad either. The Transpan facility is a shambles. Connecticut State arson people are climbing all over it. Federal Immigration people are chasing illegal aliens all over Connecticut… hell, all over the Northeast. They will have many questions to ask Transpan.”

“What about the aliens,” Hawk said.

“You sound like Steven Spielberg,” Ives said and laughed.

Hawk didn’t say anything.

“We’ll do what we can,” Ives said. “Remember, we made no promises beyond doing what we could.”

Hawk nodded.

A cycle cart selling chocolate chip ice-cream sandwiches cruised by us, turned in by the Marriott and set up shop near the railing along the water. A fat old woman with short hair was selling helium-filled balloons at the crosswalk on Atlantic Avenue. Ives was leaning on the capstan gazing at the cabin cruisers moored in the slip.

“How do you expect to find Costigan,” he said.

“We have a private intelligence service,” I said.

“Well, be sure that we coordinate,” Ives said. “We don’t want a lot of people churning around in the mud obliterating the footprints.”

“We’ll be careful,” I said.

Ives nodded, straightened, and turned toward Quincy Market.

“Tally ho the fox,” he said.

I nodded. Hawk nodded. Ives left, crossing Atlantic Avenue toward the market.

“You think the Russians maybe winning,” Hawk said.

“Maybe their people are worse,” I said.

“Hard to picture,” Hawk said.