then punished him as a lesson to others, then finished him off.
But the dirt?
What is that about?
Like he got greedy and built Paradise Homes on bad dirt, and certain people are going to lose a lot of money, so they decided to make him accountable?
Fucking Boone, Johnny thinks.
138
Boone starts to go to sleep.
When he stops thrashing, the world gets very still and peaceful, like Mother Ocean has him in her lap, singing him a lullaby, a pulsing hum like the sounds of whales or dolphins. He feels warm, almost cocooned, and he remembers that he has often said that he would like to die in the ocean instead of in a bed with tubes sticking out of him. Many times said in those conversations on the Dawn Patrol that when his time came, he would just swim out until he was exhausted and couldn’t swim anymore and let the ocean take care of the rest. And maybe this is a little sooner than he hoped for, but it’s like getting into a wave, better too early than too late.
Remembers now his mother telling him that she surfed when she was pregnant with him, took him out with her in the gentler waves, dove underwater so he could feel the pulse and pull, he in the water of his mother, she in the water of hers. They say this is where we came from anyway, crawled from brackish waters onto land, and maybe all of living is a quest to go back, not from dust to dust but from salt to salt. The tide comes and goes out and one day it takes us with it, people say they are going up into the sky that’s where heaven is up there with the father but maybe you don’t go up but down not into hell but into the deep belly of your mother, the deep, impossibly deep blue and that would be okay that would be good a world away from air because you are so tired of holding your breath hoping for air a world beyond struggle and hope, a world of perfect silence you’ve had good times and good friends it’s been a good ride on this wave let it go . . .
Except he hears K2 say:
139
Johnny Banzai’s eating shit.
From Steve Harrington, for starters.
“You just stumble onto this?” he asks Johnny. “Decided you’d take a ride over to a perp’s father’s house and . . . bingo-bango! ‘Look, Ma, no hands’?”
“I had a lead,” Johnny admits.
“Partners?” Harrington asks. “We’re ‘partners,’ remember? You ever seen any movies? Cop shows on TV? We’re closer than brothers . . . than married couples.
The ME is doing his thing on Blasingame’s body. A rookie uniform is puking into a white plastic bag. Johnny wants to get the hell out of there, not because of the puke or catching shit from Harrington, but to get to Boone and tell him a Mexican drug cartel might be looking for him.
Just because he hates the guy doesn’t mean he wants him tortured to death.
Johnny really wants to get out of there when Lieutenant Romero arrives, takes one look at the scene, and pulls him out on the street.
“Tell me you’re deaf,” Romero says.
“Lieutenant—”
“Because you must not have heard me say, ‘You do
Johnny ignores what he assumes to be a rhetorical question and, seeing how his career is swirling around the toilet anyway, says, “It looks like Mexican drug stuff to me. The severed hands, the—”
“Why do my people,” Romero asks, “catch the blame for every nasty, violent, sick activity that happens in this city? A guy gets his hands sliced off and you just assume the beaners did it?”
“I said, it
Romero gets right up in his face and says with a hiss, “I told you to stay away from this. I told you to keep some distance so we could duck and cover, and you put me right into it. You want my job, Kodani, is that it? I swear, I’ll take you right down with me.”
“I already figured that, sir.”
“Yeah, you’re a smart bastard, aren’t you?” Romero asks. “See how smart you feel checking up on paroled pedophiles the rest of your career.”
“Am I off this case, Lieutenant?”
“You’re fucking right. Get out of here.”
Johnny gets in his car and heads for Boone’s.
140
Boone comes to on the deck of the boat.
Water gushes out of his mouth, and he takes a deep breath of air.
Someone says quietly, “Did you think you had died?”
Boone nods.
“You’re going to wish you had,” Jones says.
141
On the way to Boone’s place, Johnny hits him on the cell a few times, but the asshole doesn’t answer.
Classic Boone anyway—he goes into his crib-slash-cave and forgets the rest of the world exists, doesn’t answer his phone. Johnny just drives over to Crystal Pier. The Deuce is there, so Johnny goes to the door and knocks. Boone doesn’t answer. Johnny walks around and bangs on the windows.
No Boone.
Johnny calls Dave.
“You seen Boone around?”
“Man, I haven’t seen Boone in a long time.”
“I hear that,” Johnny says. “But do you know where he might be?”
“Try the Brit’s place.”
Johnny heads over to Petra’s.
142
Boone bounces on the bottom of the boat like a gaffed fish.
