'Do you think they'll try again?'
'Got no way to know,' I said.
'Except that whoever wanted you dead didn't get what they wanted,' Susan said.
'Except that,' I said.
'Aren't you worried about it?'
I shrugged.
'What kind of gun are you carrying tonight?' Susan said.
'Browning,' I said.
'The one that's heavier and more uncomfortable to carry, but it will shoot a lot of bullets before you have to reload.'
'Thirteen in the clip, one in the chamber.'
Susan nodded slowly while she looked at me.
'What do you think?' she said to Hawk.
'Think I'll stick around,' Hawk said.
'That would make me feel better,' Susan said.
'Make anyone feel better,' Hawk said.
Susan smiled and ate the rest of her clam.
'I can't eat all of this,' she said.
'Maybe the baby would like some.'
'You going to give it to the dog?' Hawk said.
'She's a good eater too,' Susan said.
CHAPTER 44
Hawk had on a dark blue serge suit and a collarless white linen shirt. His shaved head gleamed. His black ankle boots gleamed at the other end. He had one of my office chairs tipped back against the wall to my left, and he was sitting in it reading a book called Remembering Denny, by Calvin Trillin. I was at my desk trying to learn how to say 'you'll never get me, you dirty rat,' in Russian.
'You got a plan yet?' Hawk said without looking up from his book.
'We could hide in here with the door locked, sleep in shifts.' – 'I thought of that,' Hawk said.
The phone rang.
'Be nice if we could figure out which anthill we stepped in,' I said.
'Yeah, be great, we could call them names while we sleeping in shifts.'
'We know who they are, we might know what to do.'
The phone rang again.
'Be a nice change,' Hawk said.
I nodded and picked up the phone.
'Da?' I said.
'I want to speak to Spenser,' a voice said.
'Speaking,' I said.
'You was working out in Vegas in September,' the voice said.
'Yeah.'
'With a big black guy, bald head?'
'Actually he's not bald, he shaves his head.'
'Same difference,' he said.
'My name is Bernard J. Fortunate, you remember me?'
I slid my desk drawer open and looked at the business card I had put there more than a month ago. It said Bernard J. Fortunato.
Investigator, Professional and Discreet.
'Yeah,' I said.
'Little guy with a Panama hat and a short Colt.'
'I'm compact,' he said.
'Sure,' I said.
'That's what I meant to say, compact guy with a Panama hat and a compact Colt.'
