Flood

48

I NEEDED TO go to the Bronx to see the Mole, and I also needed Michelle to work this last bit. I figured I’d ask her to go along for the ride-Flood would have made the mixture too tricky. I told her we wouldn’t be rolling until tomorrow, to get some sleep and be ready. I dropped her off and turned back down toward the docks.

For once I was running in some luck. I spotted Michelle daintily hoisting herself out of the front seat of a dark Chrysler sedan. I watched from a distance as she waved good-bye to whoever was inside, then I nosed the Plymouth slowly over to where she was standing.

She was fumbling in her huge pocketbook for something when I pulled alongside. She recognized the car, opened the door for herself, and climbed in next to me. I pulled away without saying a word.

Finally she extracted a tiny bottle full of some dark liquid from her purse, took a deep pull, swished the stuff around in her mouth, and rolled down the window to spit it into the night.

“Want some, baby?”

“No thanks. What is it… mouthwash?”

“Don’t be so vulgar, Burke. It’s cognac.”

“I’ll pass. You want to work tonight?”

“Baby, I am working-I just spit my last job out of your window.”

“Something else, okay?” Sometimes I hate what she does to make a buck.

“Don’t you snap at me, Burke. You’re not my fucking parole officer.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m your friend, okay? And I’m taking you to see another friend.”

“Who?” Still not mollified.

“The Mole.”

“Oh, the poor child still can’t call up and make his own dates?”

“Michelle, give me a break. We need to set up another office. I need Mole for the electronics and you for the phones.”

“This has something to do with the job for Margot?”

“I hope you heard about that from Margot herself.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise the individual involved may know more than he should.”

“Oh, Dandy knows from nothing, dear, but the Prophet’s been doing his Armageddon number so I trust whatever’s coming down will be here soon.”

“As soon as I find this freak.”

“Just you and me on this job?”

“And the Mole.”

“Oh goodie. I love the Mole.”

“Michelle, listen-don’t drive the poor bastard any crazier than he already is, okay?”

“Can I help it if I’m attracted to intellectuals? After all, it’s rare enough that a woman of my accomplishments can have a decent conversation with her peers.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’ll be good,” she promised with an evil smile.

We motored along sedately until we crossed the line to the Bronx. I found a working pay phone, reached the Mole, and set up a meet near the junkyard. I didn’t want to bring Michelle inside-I was afraid she’d insist on some major interior decorating.

We sat there waiting. It was a quiet night, except for the occasional howling of a dog or a police siren.

“I’m on a dead fucking blank, Michelle. He was here, somewhere in the cesspool, but he’s gone. I’m not going to find him now-he’s got to come to me.”

“You have to play the cards they deal you, baby.”

“Who says so?”

“The Dealer,” said Michelle. And she was right.

The Mole materialized now at the side of the car. I rolled down the window all the way.

“Mole, I need some work done in an office building-phones, lights, stuff like that.”

“So?”

“So I need it tomorrow. In Moscow’s building-the little place upstairs, okay?”

Before he could answer, Michelle draped herself halfway across my lap and fixed her luminous eyes on her target. “Well, Mole, don’t say hello or anything!”

“Michelle-” was all the Mole got out before she was off and running.

“Now, Mole, it’s not polite to just ignore people. Especially your friends.”

“I didn’t see you-”

“Mole, please. It is common knowledge that you can see in the dark. You wear some clean overalls tomorrow-I don’t want you tracking mud all over my…”

I elbowed Michelle sufficiently to get her back on her side of the car, shrugged what-can-you-do? to the Mole, who just said, “Tomorrow morning,” and disappeared.

Michelle pouted for a few minutes on the way back, then started to giggle. The Mole has that effect on her. We made all the arrangements and I said I’d pick her up tomorrow.

Usually I don’t dream. That night I dreamt of a leering lunatic standing over a fiery pit, throwing in one child after another. I knew somehow that when enough kids hit the bottom of the pit, it would reach critical mass and explode in his face. But I woke up before that happened.