Footsteps of the Hawk

'This won't take long,' I told her. 'Just tell me what Morales wanted.'

'How did you— ' she gasped, her face showing fear for the first time.

'I've got people on it,' I said, keeping it vague in case Morales worked her over the phone.

She took another breath. 'He just wanted— '

'Don't lie, Mary,' I warned her. 'Don't even try.'

'I'm…scared,' she said. 'If he knew…'

'He won't know,' I told her. 'No way he knows. Not from me, not from you.'

'He made me…suck it,' she said, her voice dropping so low I could barely hear it.

'That's part of the job, right?'

'Not his…cock,' she said, dropping her voice still another notch. 'His gun. His pistol. He made me take it in my mouth. It hurt.

He made me open my eyes. His face was right there. All sweaty and crazy. Then he cocked the gun— I heard it click. He said, if I didn't tell him, he'd do it. He said, I liked blow jobs so much, he'd show me one. A real one. Blow out the back of my head, that's what he said.'

'This was in your work crib? The one on— ?'

'No. It was in his car. A fancy red car. He stopped me on the street, made me get in. He drove way north, like for the Triborough? But he didn't go over it, he made this turn….I don't know. We ended up in this scary place, like out in the country or something. It was…like empty. Just us. He told me, I didn't do what he wanted and he'd leave me there. Another dead whore, who'd care?…That's what he said.'

I knew where he'd taken her. Ward's Island. Nothing much out there but a hospital for the criminally insane. Maybe Morales was checking out his new home, before he moved in. 'So you told him…what?' I asked her.

'I told him the truth,' Mojo Mary said, hands fluttering in her lap. 'Everything.'

'Now tell me,' I said.

She glanced over at where Rudy was lying all trussed up on the floor. 'Did you kill him?' she asked.

'If he was dead, what would we need the gag for?' I answered reasonably. 'Nobody's getting killed here. Nobody's getting hurt, either. Just tell me, Mary. Then I'll be out of your life.'

'I told him that girl, that Roxanne, what she paid me for.'

'To get in touch with me?'

'Yeah.'

'And about how you met her in Logan's, all that?'

'Yeah.'

'You tell him what this Roxanne wanted? From me?'

'Yes. But I— '

'It's okay,' I reassured her. 'What else?'

'That's all. Really.'

'Don't lie anymore,' I warned her. 'I'm not playing. You know me a long time, Mary— I don't play.'

'I'm not playing.'

'Is that when Morales put the gun in your mouth?' I asked. 'When you told him that was all of it?'

'Burke, I…'

'He wanted to know about the blonde,' I told her, not making it a question. Her eyes were little slot–machine windows— I could see the wheels spinning behind them, trying to wait on three–of–a–kind. 'You got any doubts I'll do it?' I asked, stopping the wheel, 'You don't know who to be scared of, I'll tell you, Mary— be scared of the one who can do it now.'

'He's a cop,' she said softly. 'He can do it anytime he wants. I asked around…later. Some of the other girls, they know him. He's…been with them, you understand? He's not like other cops. I mean, he pays. Pays full price. But he hurts you, that's what they said.'

'S&M hurt? Or— ?'

'No. He isn't into whips and chains, not like that. He's just…rough. Like he hates you while he's doing it. One girl…You know Irene? The redhead who works in the— ?'

'No,' I said, not wanting her to stray off the trail.

'Well, anyway, she took a back–door from him. You know, Greek–style. I mean, he didn't make her do it. That's what she does and all. But there's a way to do it…a right way, I mean. It really don't have to hurt if you— '

'I know,' I told her, guiding her back to the path.

'He didn't do it the right way. Just didn't care. She told him, but he just grabbed the back of her head and like shook it,' Mojo Mary said, shaking her right fist like it had a handful of hair in it. 'Real hard. Like he was— '

'What about the blonde, Mary?'

'He asked me everything. About her, I mean. And I told him. It wasn't much, right?'

'You tell me,' I answered her.

'It wasn't. I mean, I didn't know anything. I mean, I don't street–stroll, you know that. She was buddies with this Roxanne, not with me.'

'You told Morales that they wanted to hire me, get some work done?'

'Yes. But I know you didn't— '

'Right. I didn't. What else?'

'He said, if they ever called again— ever — I had to call him. Right away, before I went to the meet. He said, if I didn't call him, if he found out I was in touch with them without telling him, he'd find me.'

'And did they— ?'

'Never!' she said, almost jumping off the couch with the force of it. 'No way I'd— '

'Okay.' I told her.

'Okay? That's it? You're not— '

'Everybody has to make a living,' I told her. 'I'm not mad at you. When Morales comes around, tell him the truth. Tell him I was here, asked you the questions.'

'If he knows I told you, he'll— '

'That's right,' I interrupted. 'When the time comes, you decide.'

I stood up. Max did too, bringing Mojo Mary along with him. I didn't bother warning her about calling the cops— it wasn't something she'd do.

'I'll leave you to get the tape off,' I told her.

She knelt next to Rudy, put her face close to his. 'He's breathing,' she said, almost indifferent.

'I wouldn't stick you with a body,' I told her. 'Just cut the tape off real careful— he'll be fine.' I nodded at Max. The warrior cracked open the door, checked both ways. Then he stepped out, heading for the staircase. I closed the door behind him, turned to Mojo Mary. 'We need a few minutes, make sure there isn't any problem leaving, okay?'

'Sure,' she said. 'Okay if I go into the kitchen, get a knife? So I can start on— '

'Better not, I said quietly. 'I heard you were pretty good with those things yourself.'

'Rudy taught me,' she said. 'Taught me good.' She turned her back to me, bent over. A crescent–shaped scar blossomed on one tawny thigh, just below her butt, 'That's his mark,' she said.

I looked at the scar, not saying anything. Mojo Mary looked over one shoulder back at me, still bent at the waist. I wondered if Rudy was going to wake up with a mark of his own. The cellular phone in my jacket buzzed. Once, twice. Then it went dead. All clear.

'You want to jet, now's the time,' I told her, looking down at Rudy.

I dropped Max at his temple, returned the Chevy to Hertz, took the subway back to my place. I picked up Pansy, went down to the garage and pulled out in my Plymouth. Then I drove over to West Street, parked the Plymouth on an open strip of asphalt, slipped on Pansy's lead and walked over to the river.

The Hudson was calm— the water looked like the pebbled glass in those old–fashioned office doors. A giant