Cold Service

7

OUTSIDE THE WINDOWS of my apartment, it was getting dark. Hawk was asleep on the bed in my bedroom. The trip to Bullfinch Place had used up all his strength. Hawk slept a lot. I used the couch. The couch was fine. I sat at my kitchen counter with the overhead lights on and the contents of Quirk's big envelope spread out in front of me.

There were mug shots and arrest records of five men:

Bohdan Dziubakevych

Fadeyushka Badyrka

Vanko Tsyklins'kyj

Lyaksandro Prohorovych

Danylko Levkovych All five originally came from Odessa. All five had legitimate immigration credentials. None was wanted by Ukrainian police. They were foot soldiers. There had been various arrests for assault, extortion, and racketeering in Ukraine, Poland, Russia, Romania, New York, New Britain, and Boston. No one appeared to have done serious jail time. Witnesses were probably hard to come by. The men were all between thirty-five and forty-five; they had hard, middle-European faces. Their eyes had seen awful things. I looked at the names some more and decided not to memorize them. I wasn't sure I could forget the faces.

At about twenty to six, Susan unlocked my door and came in with two large shopping bags. She was in her understated work mode-gray suit, black sweater, clear nail polish, quiet makeup.

"It's hard to shrink people," she once explained to me, "if they're fascinated by your eyeliner."

She was beautiful and quiet when she came from work. Sometimes she wasn't coming from work. Then she looked beautiful and flamboyant. She put the bags on the floor and came and kissed me.

"How is he?" she said.

"He's asleep," I said.

"Hard to imagine him tired," she said.

She looked at the pictures spread out on the counter.

"Who are those awful men?" she said.

"Ukrainian mob," I said. "The ones Hawk will be looking for when he's not tired."

"Ick," Susan said. "Can you help me with the bags?"

I put the photos and paperwork back in the envelope and put the envelope away. I picked up the two shopping bags and put them on the counter.

"Could I have a glass of orange vodka?" Susan said.

"Straight up," I said. "No ice."

"With a slice of orange," she said.

"You eat and drink like no one else I know."

"I like warm orange vodka," she said.

"My point exactly," I said.

I got her drink while she unpacked the bags. Bread, cheese, cold chicken, fruit, and two bottles of Riesling. I gave her the warm vodka, and she sipped it as she arranged the food on a couple of good platters that she had insisted I buy.

"Can he eat and drink?" Susan said.

"He's permitted to," I said. "But he doesn't have much interest in it yet."

She nodded. I made myself a scotch and soda in a tall glass with a lot of ice. We sat at my counter and had our drinks together.

"You're on the couch?" Susan said.

"Yes."

"Do I remember correctly?" Susan said. "Were we on that couch the first time we ever made love."

"I think so," I said. "At least that's where we started. I remember you burst into applause afterwards."

"Are you sure?" she said.

"You said I should get an award for sustained excellence."

"I'm pretty sure I didn't say that," Susan said.

"What did you say then?"

"I think I said, 'Never touch me again, you lout.' "

"Maybe," I said. "But you didn't mean it."

Hawk came out of my bedroom, barefoot, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. His face was still damp from washing.

"Did we wake you?" Susan said.

"I sleep about twenty hours a day," Hawk said. "Anything wakes me up is good."

"Can you eat anything?"

"Maybe sip a drink," Hawk said. "What you drinking?"

"Orange vodka," Susan said. "Up with a slice."

"Up?"

"Yes."

"Warm orange vodka?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, girl," Hawk said.

He looked at my drink.

"Gimme one of those," he said.

I made him one and he eased onto a stool at the counter.

"Would you be more comfortable on the couch?" Susan said.

"Too hard to get up."

"We could help you," Susan said.

Hawk looked at her balefully.

"Or not," Susan said.

Hawk sipped his drink. He seemed to be listening to his body as the drink went down.

"Okay?" I said.

Hawk nodded.

"Pretty good," he said.

Susan took a couple of grapes off the platter and ate them and sipped some vodka. Hawk shuddered.

"You will be all the way back sooner or later," Susan said.

"I will," Hawk said.

"And then what?"

Not a lot of people said "then what?" to Hawk. But Susan was one who could. Hawk looked at the manila envelope I had put aside. He shrugged.

"Business as usual," he said.

"You're going to find those men," Susan said.

"Yes."

"You're going to kill them."

"Yes."

"Five people."

"Four," Hawk said. "Old Bohdan will be dead long before we ready."

Susan nodded toward me.

"You will want him to help you."

"Up to him," Hawk said.

"Are you going to help him kill four people?" Susan said to me.

"I'm going to help him find them, and I'm going to help him not get killed. He'll kill who he kills," I said.

"Isn't that sort of a fine line?" Susan said.

"Very fine," I said. "But it's a line."

Susan nodded.

"That troubling to you?" Hawk said.

"Yes," she said. "It is very troubling."

"He don't have to."

"Yes," Susan said. "He does."

She looked at Hawk, holding her warm vodka in one hand and a green grape in the other. I knew she had forgotten both.

"He does have to," she said.

We were quiet. I put my hand on her thigh and patted softly. She never disappointed. She always knew.

"Ain't happening for a while," Hawk said.

Susan ate her grape and sipped more vodka.

"I know," she said brightly. "Want some chicken?"