Cold Service

16

MARSHPORT CITY HALLwas one of those handsome, ornate civic buildings that people built in the nineteenth century out of brownstone and brick. It had the affluent, satisfied look of the upper middle class it was built for and was probably the best-looking thing in the city… except for me and Hawk, and we were only temporary. Inside was a lot of curving staircase, and dark wood, and heavy oil paintings of the city's ancestry, who for all I knew could have been the entire Marsh dynasty. The mayor's office was on the second floor, facing the big stairwell. We went in and announced to the several blue-haired staff ladies that we wanted to see the mayor. I gave my name. Hawk smiled warmly, which seemed to fluster the closest staff member a little.

She got up and went into the mayor's office and came out shortly with Boots Podolak behind her.

"Spenser," he said loudly, "you son of a bitch."

"Nice to be remembered, Boots."

"You still on the cops?"

"Nope. Private now."

"Then get the fuck out of my building," Podolak said.

He looked at Hawk.

"And take Sambo the fuck with you."

"Sambo," Hawk said to me.

The blue-haired staff pretended he hadn't said that. All of them appeared to have typing to do.

"We've come to discuss Duda and Husak," I said. "Esquire."

"I think they both Esquire," Hawk said.

"You think I should have said Esquires?"

"I dunno," Hawk said.

He looked at Podolak.

"You think, does one Esquire cover both lawyers?" Hawk said to Podolak.

"What the fuck are you talking about."

"Your attorneys," I said. "Duda and Husak."

Podolak was a tall, bony man with a sparse gray crew cut, and a thin gray 1930s movie villain moustache. He wore rimless glasses, and his arms were long. He was narrow and hard-looking. He wore no coat, and under his tan cardigan sweater an incongruous potbelly pressed out, as if he was hiding a soccer ball.

"In the office," he said, and stepped aside so Hawk and I could walk through the door. Podolak shut the door behind us and walked the length of the vast office and sat behind a vast desk. There were four other men sitting around at the near end of the office. Podolak didn't say anything to them, nor did he introduce anyone. He took a long, thin cigar from a leather humidor and got it lit, turning it slowly in the flame of a pigskin-covered desk lighter. Hawk and I sat in a couple of chairs near his desk and watched the operation. When he was happy with the way it was burning, Boots looked at us through the cigar smoke.

"So what's this shit about Duda-dooda?" he said.

"You hired him and Husak to represent some Ukrainians with names I can't pronounce," Hawk said. "If I could remember them. And you tell them, make sure nobody rolls on nobody."

"You think so, huh."

"We do," Hawk said. "And we want to know why."

Boots puffed his cigar for a moment, looking at Hawk, then at me.

"Where'd you get him?" Boots said to me.

"Bought him from a guy in Louisiana," I said. "Then came emancipation and I'm stuck with him."

If Boots thought I was funny, he didn't show it. Which happens to me a lot.

"So who told you I hired Duda and whatsis?" Boots said.

The four men in the far corner of the room had stood up and were watching us.

"Whatsis," Hawk said.

"Well, he's full of shit, whoever he is. I need a lawyer, I don't need to go into Boston."

"Why you think they from Boston?" Hawk said.

Boots pulled on his cigar for a moment. Then he took it out and admired it. Then he looked straight at Hawk.

"What I don't need," he said, "is some smart-ass fucking nigger coming in here and talking to me like he's white."

Hawk smiled at him warmly.

"Ah know," he said. "Ah know… and yet, here ah is. You got something going with Tony Marcus?"

"Who the fuck is Tony Marcus?" Boots said.

Hawk made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Lemme ask you this," Hawk said. "You don't know anybody named Duda and Husak. You don't know nobody named Tony Marcus. You don't want us here. You the mayor. You got four, ah, retainers standing around down the other end of the room, lookin' terrifying. Whyn't you just throw us out?"

"These men are Marshport police officers," Podolak said with dignity.

"Oh, good," Hawk said. "I was afraid for a minute they be real cops."

"You want to go to jail?" Podolak said.

Hawk looked at me. Then he looked down the room at the four men. Then he looked at Podolak, and stood and walked down the room and stopped in front of the four men, standing very close to them.

"I don't think so," he said.

No one moved. The air in the room seemed to thicken. I could feel the pressure of it.

Looking at the four men, Hawk was still talking to Boots.

"You let us in here," he said, " 'cause you hoping to find out what we knew 'bout you hiring Duda and Husak. And then I say something 'bout Tony Marcus and you want to know what we know 'bout him."

Nobody moved. Podolak and the four cops were giving Hawk the steely stare, and he was, I thought, bearing up very well under it. Hawk kept looking at the four cops as he talked to Podolak.

"Tha's one reason you ain't thrown us out," Hawk said.

"What's the other reason?" Podolak said.

He was trying to look at ease and in control. I thought he was struggling with it a little.

"Other reason bein'," Hawk said, "that there only five of you and there two of us, which means we got you outnumbered."

The cop closest to Hawk was a big, shambling guy with grayish hair and a lot of broken veins in his face.

"Enough," he said.

He took a leather sap out of his right hip pocket, and put a big left hand flat on Hawk's chest. Hawk smiled at him. And then something happened and Hawk had the sap and the cop was on the floor with blood running from his nose. I had my gun in my hand. For the occasion I had shelved the usual S&W.38. I was carrying my Browning nine-millimeter, which I pointed at the cops.

"Okay," I said. "Everybody sit tight."

Podolak was outraged.

"You can't shoot up the fucking mayor's office, for crissake," he said.

The office door opened and one of the blue-haired secretaries peered in.

She said, "Is there anything you need, Mr. Mayor?"

Hawk walked back toward Podolak, slapping the sap lightly against his thigh. When he reached the desk he looked at Podolak for a moment. Then he tossed the sap on Podolak's desk and with a very fast, fluid motion produced a big.44 Mag from inside his coat.

The secretary said, "Oh my God," and backed out the door and closed it.

Hawk didn't even glance at her. He cocked the revolver. The noise of the hammer going back was loud in the brittle silence. Then a loud alarm horn began to blare from somewhere in City Hall. If Hawk heard it, he showed no sign.

"Gimme something I can use," Hawk said.

He pressed the barrel of the cocked revolver against the bridge of Podolak's nose.

"Now," Hawk said.

The three cops left standing shuffled a little. But nobody made any decisive movements. Podolak's body was rigid. His face looked moist. And quite pale. His throat moved as he swallowed.

"Quick," Hawk said.

"Ask Tony about his daughter," Podolak said.

Hawk smiled and nodded. With the gun still pressed against the bridge of Podolak's nose, he let the hammer down slowly on the.44. Podolak let out a little sound. Hawk nodded his head at me and went to the door, carrying the.44 comfortably by his side, the barrel pointing at the floor. I backed toward the door after him.

"Door's open," Hawk said.

I backed through it. Hawk closed it and grinned at me, and we both sprinted out of the mayor's office, which had been deserted by the blue-haired staff, down the grand staircase where a number of City Hall staffers mingled in uncertain anxiety, and out the front door. I could hear a siren sounding somewhere. As we rounded the corner, I spotted a police car pulling up in front of City Hall. Then we were in Hawk's car and rolling.

There was very little traffic in the desolate city. What there was was outbound, like us. Maybe nobody drove into Marshport. We headed back to Boston on 1A without hearing any more of the siren. And without seeing a cop.

I said to Hawk, "I don't sense hot pursuit."

"Probably didn't chase us," Hawk said.

"Because?"

"They afraid they might catch us," Hawk said.