Cold Service

52

WE WERE IN my office. We had parked illegally in the alley and come up the back way and encountered nobody. I was sitting at my desk, which always ups my sense of self-worth. Boots was in a client chair. Hawk was standing between Boots and my office door. Boots was looking silently at nothing, staring out the window behind me, maybe contemplating eternity.

"What the hell was that mumbo jumbo at the door?" I said to Hawk.

"Ukrainian," Hawk said. "I said, 'Hurry up, it's an emergency.' "

"You speak Ukrainian?" I said.

"Memorized the phrase, case I needed it."

"Like you memorized the five Ukrainians involved in shooting Luther," I said.

"Names and faces," Hawk said.

"Remind me not to annoy you," I said.

"Too late," Hawk said.

Boots continued to stare blankly. He seemed smaller than he had been, and limp. Like an uprooted weed.

Standing behind him, Hawk said, "You didn't make a break for it, so I figure you hoping to live."

Boots stared.

"You hoping to live?" Hawk said.

Boots didn't answer. Hawk cuffed him on the back of the head.

"You hoping?" Hawk said.

Boots shrugged.

"Hard being tough when you alone," Hawk said. "Easier when some of your people around."

Boots shrugged again.

"You got a chance," Hawk said. "You do what I tell you."

Boots was motionless for a moment, then nodded.

"You give me ten million dollars," Hawk said. Boots was silent for a time, and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded as if he hadn't spoken for a long time.

"I don't have that," he said.

Hawk took out his gun and pressed the barrel hard against Boots's right temple. He cocked it. The mechanical sound of the hammer going back was harsh in the quiet room.

" 'Course you do," Hawk said.

"I don't. I mean, I may be worth it, but I don't have that in cash."

"How much you got in cash?"

"Maybe five?"

Hawk looked at me.

"Marty Siegal told me, if you shop, you can get a secure three percent at the moment."

"Hundred and fifty thousand a year," Hawk said. "Think Rita will shop?"

"Somebody will," I said.

"Think one hundred fifty thousand enough?"

"Probably more than Luther made," I said.

Hawk nodded.

"How 'bout inflation?" Hawk said. "Kid's still a baby."

"Invested right, it'll grow with inflation."

"And Rita will invest it right," Hawk said.

Then he smiled and said in unison with me, "Somebody will."

During the conversation, Boots sat motionless and without affect.

"Okay," Hawk said to Boots. "Five it is. I find out you had more and you dead."

Boots nodded. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. It was the first sign of life in him.

"You gonna wire-transfer it to an account I'll give you. When the transfer is done and the money in the account, you free as a buzzard."

"I don't know how to do that," Boots said. "My accountant does that."

"Where you accountant?" Hawk said.

"State Street."

"In town here?" Hawk said.

"Yes."

"Well, then he probably still alive."

Without taking the gun from Boots's head, Hawk leaned forward and took the cordless phone from my desk and handed it to Boots.

"I don't know what to tell him," Boots said.

"Give him the paper from Rita," Hawk said.

I did.

"Routing number, account number, all that stuff," I said.

Boots was afraid to move his head with the cocked gun at his temple. He raised the paper so he could see it. Then he took in some air and dialed the number.