Flood

judge or a social worker since then. I hoped they put Pepper someplace where there were rats, so he could do his work. There were plenty of them where they sent me.

I went into the side room, found a good dark conservative suit, a dark blue shirt, and a black knit tie. I set Pansy up for the day and went off to the docks to find Michelle. For once it didn’t take long-she was in the back booth at the Hungry Heart, sipping some evil-looking potion and eating a rare steak with some cottage cheese. I walked right on through to the back, feeling the looks and giving off businessman vibes like I was Michelle’s date. No problems-I sat down and a waiter appeared, looking at Michelle to see if I was trouble for her. She extended her hand like a bloody countess, smiled, and the waiter withdrew. Nobody came there for the food.

“Michelle, can you do a phone job for me?”

“Starting today?”

“In a few hours.”

“Honey, it’s a known fact that I give the best phone in all New York. But I suspect this has nothing to do with someone’s love life, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re going to tell me more?”

“When we get there,” I said.

“So mysterious, Burke. Is this a paying customer?”

“How much do you want?”

“Now don’t be like that, baby. I’m not like that. If you’re on a budget, just say so. If this is a money-maker for you, I should get something for the time my money-maker’s out of action, yes?”

“Yes. But I can’t pay you what you’re worth.”

“They never do, sweetie, they never do.”

“It’s a bit downtown from here, Michelle. We’re setting up a temporary office-you know what I mean?”

“Not in that damn warehouse.”

“In the warehouse.”

“And this involves…?”

“I’m still looking for that freak I told you about.”

She thought about it for a moment or so, then reached over and tapped my arm. “We have to stop at my hotel, Burke.”

“For how long?”

“Just long enough for me to get my makeup case and some clothes.”

“Michelle, this is strictly a phone job, you know? Nobody’s going to see you.”

“Honey, I’ll see me. If I want to sound right, I have to feel right. And to feel right, I have to look right. That’s the way it is.”

I grunted my annoyance at this delay, all the time knowing she was right.

Michelle wasn’t intimidated. She just widened her eyes, looked at me, and said, “Baby, you came to me for this work-if you don’t like my peaches, don’t shake my tree.”

I just looked at her-I’d said more or less the same thing to Flood, but not as well.

“It’s important,” said Michelle, in a serious, no-nonsense voice. And there was nothing I could say to that. We all know what we need to do our work.

She was as good as her word. Less that fifteen minutes after I dropped her off she came tripping down the front steps of the hotel carrying one of those giant makeup cases like models use. I had been sitting in the car with a newspaper over my face-a newspaper into which I had punched a clean hole with the icepick I always keep in the car. It gave me a clear view of the street ahead and the mirror did the same behind. I never turned off the engine, but the Plymouth idled as quiet as an electric typewriter. I kept it in gear, with my foot on the brake, but the brake lights didn’t go on. As soon as Michelle opened the door, I lifted my foot from the brake and we moved off like smoke into fog.

13

MAX WASN’T AROUND at the warehouse. I pulled the car all the way in, and Michelle and I went into the back where I keep the desk and phone boxes.

While she was changing into her outfit, I tested the equipment the Mole had set up for me. It was perfect-the Mole’s work made Ma Bell look like the crooked old bitch she is.

Michelle came back inside, straightened out the desk to suit herself, and began to page through the loose-leaf book I gave her. The damn book costs about five hundred bucks a year just for the updates-it’s cheaper to buy military secrets than direct-line numbers for government employees. She found the number she was looking for and punched it into the Mole’s contraption. I could hear it ring through the speaker box-both ends of the conversation came through loud and clear.

“Veteran’s Administration,” answered the bored voice at the other end.

“Extension Three-six-six-four, please,” came Michelle’s executive secretary voice. It buzzed four times before it was picked up.

“Mr. Leary’s office,” answered a flat female voice.

“Mr. Leary, please-Assistant United States Attorney Wayne calling,” said Michelle, now with a clipped, upper- class tone. If Leary was around, it was clearly expected he was to get his ass over to the telephone-pronto.

A pause, then a voice: “This is Mr. Leary. How can I help you?”

“Hold for Mr. Wayne, please,” said Michelle, hitting the toggle switch and handing the phone to me with a smile. I took the instrument, smoothed out my voice (all those Strike Force guys went to Ivy League schools), and opened the dialogue. “Mr. Leary? Good of you to speak with me, sir. My name is Patrick Wayne, Assistant U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. We’ve had a situation come up here that I hope you can help us with.”

“Well… I will if I can. Are you sure it’s me you want to talk to?”

“Yes, sir-allow me to explain. We are interested in an individual who is currently receiving VA benefits-and our interest frankly concerns traffic in narcotics. We are in the process of preparing an informational subpoena for your payment records so we can determine the extent of this individual’s ability to support himself.”

“A subpoena…”

“Yes, sir. It would be delivered to you personally, and would encompass the full range of your activities pursuant to… but, let me explain. That’s why I’m calling you. The subpoena-and the Grand Jury testimony, of course-may not be necessary if we can secure your cooperation.”

“Cooperation? But I haven’t done-”

“Of course you haven’t, Mr. Leary. All we really need is the opportunity to speak with this particular individual. You see, we have learned that he has no permanent address- that he comes directly to the VA for his check every month. All we want you to do is put a temporary stall on that check the next time he comes, and give our office a call. Even a day’s delay is more than sufficient. Then, when he returns the following day, we will be able to pick him up and speak with him.”

“And then there’d be no subpoena?”

“No, sir-there’d be no need for one.” First the pressure-then the grease. “Of course, I realize you probably have no interest in such things, but it is the policy of our office to award governmental commendations to those who assist us as you will be doing. If you are shy about the media we could avoid all publicity, but our office does feel you should have official recognition in some way.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” chanted the bureaucrat, “I just do my job.”

“And we appreciate it, Mr. Leary-rest assured that we do. Our man’s name is Martin Howard Wilson.”

“What’s his service number?”

“Sir, I’ll be frank with you. We only have an old number, and we’re fairly certain he’s been collecting under a new one. We assumed your computer network-”