'Bohdan's a mob guy,' I said.
'Seems like,' Quirk said.
'And his lawyer's probably a mob lawyer.'
'Seems like,' Quirk said.
'And you got the others?'
Quirk smiled.
'Five in all,' he said.
'Including Bohdan?'
'Including him,' Quirk said.
'They all Ukrainian?' I said.
'I guess so. Except for Bohdan, they all swear they don't understand English, and Ukrainian translators are hard to come by. We had to get some professor from Harvard to read them their rights.'
'Maybe you should keep him on,' I said.
'Too busy,' Quirk said. 'He's finishing a book on…' Quirk took out a small notebook, opened it, and read from it. '… the evolution of Cyrillic language folk narratives.'
I nodded.
'That's busy,' I said. 'Can I have another scone?'
Quirk pushed the bag toward me.
'You think it'll make Hawk happy?'
'Not sure,' I said.
'You think he'd rather have done it himself?'
'Not sure of that either,' I said. 'Hawk is sometimes difficult to predict.'
'No shit,' Quirk said.
4
IN THE AFTERNOONon Thursday, late enough to be dark, with the rain coming hard, I walked down Boylston Street to have a drink with Cecile in the bar at the Four Seasons. We sat by the window looking out at Boylston Street with the Public Gardens on the other side. Cecile was wearing a red wool suit with a short skirt and looked nearly as good as Susan would have in the same outfit. A lot of people looked at us.
'Hawk asked me to talk with you,' I said.
She nodded.
'You know his situation?'
She nodded again. The waiter came for our order. Cecile had a cosmopolitan. I asked for Johnnie Walker Blue and soda.
'Tall glass,' I said. 'Lot of ice.'
The waiter was thrilled to get our order and delighted to comply. There was considerable traffic on Boylston, backing up at the Charles Street light. There were fewer pedestrians. But enough to be interesting, collars up, hats pulled down, shoulders hunched, umbrellas deployed.
'I know his surgeon,' Cecile said. 'We were at Harvard Med together.'
'And he's filled you in?'
'Well,' Cecile said with a faint smile. 'He respects patient confidentiality, of course… but I am reasonably abreast of things.'
'Hawk wants me to explain to you,' I said.
'Explain what?' she said.
'Him,' I said.
'Hawk wants you to explain him to me?'
'Yes.'
Cecile sat back with her hands resting on the table and stared at me. The waiter came with the drinks and set them down happily, and went away. Cecile took a sip of her drink and put it back down and smiled.
'Well,' she said, 'I guess I'm flattered that he cares enough to ask you… I think.'
'That would be the right reaction,' I said.
'I could have considered it possible that I knew him well, and perhaps even in ways that you don't,' Cecile said. 'For God's sake, you're white.'
'That would be another possible reaction,' I said.
Cecile drank some more cosmopolitan. I had some scotch.
