'He work for you?' Hawk said.
Ives was wearing a tan summer suit with a blue oxford shirt and a green-and-blue striped tie. A snap-brimmed straw hat tilted forward over his narrow forehead. The wide hatband matched his tie. He studied the young woman for a moment as she receded down the mall. He ate a couple more cashews and offered me some. I shook my head.
'Currently?' Ives said. 'He does.'
'So what's he doing for us?' Hawk said.
'I assume he's helping you translate.'
'And what's he doing for you?'
The young woman went into Filene's. Ives shook his head slightly in sorrow.
'Oh, my,' Ives said. 'Tight young ass.'
Hawk didn't say anything.
'All ass is good,' Ives said. 'But these young housewives with their personal trainers… visions of sugarplums.'
I said, 'We're after the same thing, Ives.'
'Tight young ass?'
'Besides that,' I said. 'You want something from Boots Podolak, and since officially you are supposed to work on foreign stuff only, you want something that has to do with the Afghan connection.'
'Afghan connection?'
'You know he's got an Afghan connection, and I know you know it, and now you know I know it.'
'I've always admired your ability, Lochinvar, to construct and speak complicated sentences without confusion.'
'Yeah, it's special, isn't it?' I said.
'You know we after Boots,' Hawk said.
Ives nodded.
'And you put the Gray Man in with us to see what we up to,' Hawk said. 'You didn't plan it that way maybe, but when Spenser come to you for translator help, there it was.'
'Sometimes you have to let the game come to you,' Ives said.
'Whassup,' Hawk said. 'With the game?'
'You show me yours,' Ives said, 'I'll show you mine.'
Hawk looked at me.
'How much you tell him?'
'Just that I needed a tough guy who could speak Ukrainian. He knows it's about you getting shot.'
'Or something,' Hawk said.
I nodded.
'We trust him?' Hawk said.
'No,' I said.
Ives smiled in self-deprecation and ate the last of his cashews.
'But I think you can tell him about this. He doesn't care who killed who?'
'Whom?' Ives said.
'Okay,' Hawk said. 'Got hired to protect a bookie named Luther Gillespie…' He told it all, without emotion, without slant, as if he were giving somebody directions to Anaheim. Ives listened without any expression. As he listened, he got a meerschaum pipe out of his coat pocket and filled it from an old-fashioned oilskin fold-over tobacco pouch, and lit it with a Zippo. The pipe tobacco smelled sweet.
When Hawk finished, Ives contemplated his pipe smoke for a time and then said, 'So you are going to destroy his entire enterprise to get even.'
'Ah'm going to destroy his entire enterprise,' Hawk said.
'And Lochinvar?'
'What are friends for,' I said.
Ives nodded. He glanced aimlessly around the mall. There were enough shoppers so that it was not discouraging. But it was an upscale mall, and it was rarely jammed on a weekday morning.
'Do you know what the Gray Man is currently calling himself?' Ives said. 'Kodi McKean.'
'C-O-D-Y?' I said.
Ives shook his head and spelled it.
'His cover name, when he needs to reach me, is the Kodiak Kid.'
'The Kodiak Kid,' I said.
