'I was telling him about me. That I was a driver. He said he used to cowboy liquor stores.'
'Old as he is, he probably robbed stage coaches.'
Belle giggled. 'He's not so old.'
'Anyone older than me is old.'
'You don't feel old to me,' she said, her hand shifting into my lap.
I grabbed her wrist, pulled her off. 'Cut it out. Pay attention.'
'I am.'
'We got bigger things to think about.'
'Bigger than this?' Grabbing me again.
I snarled at her. She giggled again. I turned off at the Brooklyn Bridge exit, took Centre Street to Worth, skirting the edge of Chinatown. I needed to make some calls, and I couldn't use the basement under Max's warehouse. Not now.
138
I pulled in behind Mama's. A black Buick sedan rolled across the entrance to the alley behind us, blocking us in. Its back doors opened. Three young Chinese jumped out. Long, shiny, swept-back black hair, red shirts under black leather jackets. They stepped into a triangle, using their car for cover. Two of them braced their elbows, locking their hands around automatics. The other crouched against the alley wall, an Uzi resting on one knee. No way out.
Belle caught it in the side mirror. 'Burke!' she whispered.
'Don't move,' I told her. I knew what it was.
The back door to the kitchen popped open. A monster walked out. He looked like a pair of sumo wrestlers. Shaved head, eyes buried in fat. He grabbed our car, shook it like a kid with a toy. He looked into my face.
'Mor-Tay?' It sounded like someone had taken his tonsils out with razor wire.
I put my hands on the dashboard, keeping my eyes on his face.
'Burke,' is all I said.
He shook the car again. Mama came out into the alley, said something to the monster. He let go, stepped aside. I motioned to Belle to get out. We followed Mama inside. Took my booth in the back. I lit a smoke. A waiter came up, a tureen of soup in his hands. When he leaned over, I could see the magnum under his arm.
'Where'd you find 'Zilla, Mama?'
'Always around. Good friend.'
'I see you taught him some English.'
Mama bowed. 'Teach him everything.' Most Orientals are fatalists - Mama was fatal.
I sipped the soup. Mama was serene. Greeted Belle, reached over, held her hand for a second. I left them there, went in the back to make some calls.
'Runaway Squad.'
'McGowan. It's me. I got something. Can you meet me at the end of Maiden Lane, by the pier?'
'I can roll now.'
'Make it in an hour.'
'Right.'
I tossed in another quarter, rang the private number for the phone-sex joint where Michelle worked.
'Yeah?'
'Michelle?'
'We got no Michelle here, pal.'
'I know. Tell her to call Mama.'
A sleepy woman's voice answered the next call.
'Put Marques on.'
'He's not here.'
'Right. Tell him Burke's going to call him. In two hours. Tell him to be in his car. In two hours, you got it?'
'I'm not sure . . .'
'This is Christina, right? You be sure. Two hours. I'll call him. Tell him to be in the car.'
I hung up, not waiting for a whore's promise.
Back inside, Mama and Belle were huddled together, talking. I sat down across from them. Mama spooned some meat-stuffed dumplings onto my plate, still talking to Belle.
'Dim sum. Burke's favorite.'
'How do you make them?'
Mama shrugged her shoulders - she wasn't a cook.
I ate slowly, one eye on my watch. The Maiden Lane pier was just a few minutes away.
'Mama, Michelle's going to call here. If she doesn't do it before we leave, make sure you get a number where I can reach her. Tonight. Very, very important, okay'?'
'She help you. On this?'
'We'll see.'
Mama bowed. More food came. Belle ate like Pansy, only with better table manners. I never felt so safe.
Finally, I pushed the plates away. Belle was still eating. 'You hear from Mac?' I asked Mama.
She smiled. Made a gesture with her hands like a flower opening to the sun.
'Boston quiet?'
'Quiet soon. Max working.'
I bowed. Held out my hand to Belle. She looked unhappy, not wanting to leave the warmth any more than I did.
Mama walked us out to the back. 'I'll call later - check on Michelle.'
The monster was still standing by the door. The Buick was still across the alley mouth, no gunners in sight. I backed up the Pontiac slowly, watching the Buick move out of the way in the rearview mirror. Pointed the car toward the pier.
139
Belle was finishing off a last egg roll. She delicately wiped her mouth with the chiffon scarf, tossed it into the back seat.
'How come you call her Mama?'
'It's what she calls herself.'
'Where're we going?'
'Meet some cops.'
'Cops?'
'They're okay. For this, they're okay. They want him too.' I handed her the grenade. 'You stay in the car.'
'But . . .'
'Shut up. I let you have your grenade, took you for a nice drive to the Bronx, gave you a nice meal. That's all the babying you're going to get today.'
She reached into the back seat, put the greasy scarf in her lap, covering the grenade. I turned in to the pier and backed the Pontiac into an empty space, watching for McGowan. We were early.
'Burke?'
'What?'
'That huge guy . . . the one who came out the back door?'
'Yeah?'
'If he's Chinese, how come he has an Italian name. 'Zilla'?'
