'Yeah, well, let's see,' Pistillo went on. 'We have these two men dead. Plus we have the two guys in New Mexico. That's four.'
'And you didn't use your fingers. They're not paying you enough, Agent Pistillo.'
'You want to tell me about it?'
'Very much,' McGuane said. 'I admit it. I killed them all. Happy?'
Pistillo leaned over the desk so that their faces were inches apart. 'You're about to go down, McGuane.'
'And you had onion soup for lunch.'
'Are you aware,' Pistillo said, not backing off, 'that Sheila Rogers is dead too?'
'Who?'
Pistillo stood back up. 'Right. You don't know her either. She doesn't work for you.'
'Many people work for me. I'm a businessman.'
Pistillo looked over at Fisher. 'Let's go,' he said.
'Leaving so soon?'
'I've waited a long time for this,' Pistillo said. 'What do they say? Revenge is a dish best served cold.'
'Like vichyssoise.'
Another smirk from Pistillo. 'Have a nice day, McGuane.'
They left. McGuane sat there and did not move for ten minutes. What had been the purpose of that visit? Simple. To shake him up. More underestimation. He hit line three, the safe phone, the one checked daily for listening devices. He hesitated. Dialing the number. Would that show panic?
He weighed the pros and cons and decided to risk it.
The Ghost answered on the first ring with a drawn-out 'Hello?'
'Where are you?'
'Just off the plane from Vegas.'
'Learn anything?'
'Oh yes.'
'I'm listening.'
'There was a third person in the car with them,' the Ghost said.
McGuane shifted in his seat. 'Who?'
'A little girl,' the Ghost said. 'No more than eleven or twelve years old.'
27
Katy and I were on the street when Squares pulled up. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Squares arched an eyebrow in my direction. I frowned at him.
'I thought you were staying on my couch,' I said to her.
Katy had been distracted since the fruit basket's arrival. 'I'll be back tomorrow.'
'And you don't want to tell me what's going on?'
She stuck her hands deep in her pockets and shrugged. 'I just need to do a little research.'
'On?'
She shook her head. I did not press it. She gave me a quick grin before taking off. I got in the van.
Squares said, 'And she is?'
I explained as we headed uptown. There were dozens of sandwiches and blankets packed in the bag. Squares handed them out to the kids. The sandwiches and blankets, in the same vein as his rap about the missing Angie, made excellent icebreakers, and even if they didn't, at least the kids would have something to eat and something to keep them warm. I had seen Squares work wonders with those items. The first night, a kid would most likely refuse any help at all. He or she might even curse or become hostile. Squares would take no offense. He'd just keep coming at him. Squares believed that consistency was the key. Show the kid you're there all the time. Show the kid you're not leaving. Show the kid it's unconditional.
A few nights later, that kid will take the sandwich.
Another, he'll want a blanket. After a while, he'll start looking for you and the van.
I reached back and lifted a sandwich into view. 'You're working again tonight?'
He lowered his head and looked at me above his sunglasses. 'No,' he said dryly, 'I'm just really hungry.'
He drove some more.
'How long are you going to avoid her, Squares?'
Squares flipped on the radio. Carly Simon's 'You're So Vain.' Squares sang along. Then he said, 'Remember this song?'
I nodded.
'That rumor that it was about Warren Beatty. Was that true?'
'Don't know,' I said.
We drove some more.
'Let me ask you something, Will.'
He kept his eyes on the road. I waited.
'How surprised were you to learn that Sheila had a kid?'
'Very.'
'And,' he went on, 'how surprised would you be to learn I had one too?'
I looked at him.
' You don't understand the situation, Will.'
'I'd like to.'
'Let's concentrate on one thing at a time.'
The traffic was miraculously light this evening. Carly Simon faded away and then the Chairman of the Board begged his woman to give him just a little more time and their love would surely grow. Such desperation in that simple plea. I love this song.
We cut across town and took the Harlem River Drive north. When we passed a group of kids huddled under an overpass, Squares pulled over and shifted into park.
'Quick work stop,' he said.
'You want help?'
Squares shook his head. 'It won't take long.'
'You going to use the sandwiches?'
Squares examined his potential help-ees and considered. 'Nah. Got something better.'
'What?'
'Phone cards.' He handed me one. 'I got Tele Reach to donate over a thousand of them. The kids go nuts for them.'
They did too. As soon as they saw them, the kids flocked to him. Count on Squares. I watched the faces, tried to separate the smeared mass into individuals with wants and dreams and hopes. Kids do not survive long out here. Forget the incredible physical dangers. They can often get past that. It is the soul, the sense of self, that erodes out here. Once the erosion reaches a certain level, well, that's the ball game.
Sheila had been saved before reaching that level.
Then someone had killed her.
I shook it off. No time for that now. Focus on the task at hand. Keep moving. Action kept the grief at bay. Let it fuel you, not slow you down.
Do it corny as it might sound for her.
Squares returned a few minutes later. 'Let's rock and roll.'
'You haven't told me where we're going.'
'Corner of 128th Street and Second Avenue. Raquel will meet us there.'
'And what's there?'
He grinned. 'A possible clue.'
We exited the highway and passed a sprawl of housing projects. From two blocks away, I spotted Raquel.
