Quirk and Belson arrived at the table.
“Say all the legal shit to them, Frank,” Quirk said. “Billy-give me the piece you’re carrying.”
Belson began to recite the formalized litany of arrest like a kid reciting the alphabet. Billy looked at Marcus. Marcus wasn’t looking at him. He was still staring at Hawk.
“Now, Billy.” Quirk’s voice had an edge to it. Billy lunged past him. Quirk seemed to barely notice, as if he were thinking of something else. But he made some sort of efficient compact movement and Billy hit the floor like a foundered walrus. Quirk held Billy’s right arm at an awkward angle with his left hand and reached around and took the Browning off Billy’s hip. It was stainless, with a walnut handle.
“Nice piece. Don’t you have one like it?”
Without pausing in his recitation, Belson produced a clear plastic bag and held it open and Quirk dropped the gun into it.
“Mine’s only got the black finish,” I said, “and a black plastic handle. Got a nice white dot on the front sight, though.”
Belson finished his recitation and they cuffed Tony Marcus and Billy and hauled them off. Marcus kept staring at Hawk until he was out of sight.
“I think he feels betrayed,” I said.
Hawk nodded, looking around the room. Everyone there was staring at us or trying not to.
“You think that the red hair and tight dress will come back in here for lunch?” he said.
CHAPTER 45
Susan and I were having supper on Rowe’s Wharf, across from International Place in the dining room at the Boston Harbor Hotel. I had an Absolut martini on the rocks, with a twist. Susan had a glass of Riesling, which she probably wouldn’t finish.
“Was it the gun?” Susan said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Can they convict him with it?” Susan said.
“The gun, the tape, Major’s testimony. Sure.”
“I’m surprised that Major is willing to testify.”
“Hawk says he will.”
“Because Hawk told him to?” Susan said.
“Yeah, I imagine so. And, too, it’s a chance to be important.”
“Interesting, isn’t it. He had to know that Hawk could beat him.”
“Established the command structure,” I said. “I guess any order is better than none.”
Susan rested her chin on her upturned palm. The twilight glancing in off the harbor highlighted her huge dark eyes.
“I talked with Jackie,” Susan said.
“Too much for her?” I said.
“Yes,” Susan said. “She’s-overwhelmed, I guess, is the best way to describe it.”
“Not just the violence,” I said.
“No,” Susan said. “She saw Hawk, I suppose, for the first time.”
“He saved her life,” I said.
“She knows that,” Susan said. “But there might have been another way. He shot right past her head to do it without a moment’s hesitation.”
“It was the best way,” I said.
Susan nodded. “Yes, I’m sure it was. Maybe even Jackie is sure it was, but she can’t… do you see? She can’t be with a man who could do that.”
“I see,” I said. “Could you?”
“I am,” Susan said.
I drank some of my martini. I checked the glass. There were at least two swallows left.
“You think we’ll see her again?” I said.
With her chin still in her hand, Susan shook her head slowly. The waiter brought menus. We read them. The waiter came back. We ordered. The waiter left. The twilight softened into darkness outside the window, and the harbor water, wavering against the wharf, was very black.
“What do you think?” Susan said. “Is there a future for Major and those other kids?”
“I doubt it,” I said.
The waiter returned with food. I mastered the desire for maybe thirteen more martinis, and when Susan and I finished supper and left, I was still sober. It made me proud. We drove back to Cambridge and I parked in the driveway of her place on Linnaean Street.
