Flood

Street.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“He left last night.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just missed him.”

“Didn’t you ask where he’d gone?”

Another short laugh. “The circumstances made that impossible, Mr. Burke.”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“I had to be forceful with the superintendent.”

“A bit more specific…?”

“He tried to put his hands on me and I kicked him.”

“So?”

“I don’t mean kick like you would mean it, Mr. Burke. He’ll have to go to the hospital.”

And then I remembered where I’d seen those bluish knuckles before-on the hands of the elderly kung fu instructor who had taught me how to breathe. “What style do you study?”

Her eyes went flat. “I study no style. For the last several years I have been my own teacher. Years before, many different styles. I don’t have a black belt, I don’t break boards, and I don’t fight in gymnasiums.”

Somehow, I already knew that. “You seem like you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, Miss…”

“Flood.”

“Miss Flood. So what do you need me for?”

“Mr. Burke, I did not come to you for protection, but for information. I understand you have sources of information which would be closed to me. I am a person of honor. I need a service, and I am prepared to pay for that service.”

“Look, I don’t get it. No offense meant, okay? But the first time you come in here you talk like an Eighth Avenue hooker, and now you come on like Fu Manchu. I think you know some things you haven’t told me. I think you think I know this Cobra you’re looking for. I don’t.”

“Mr. Burke, I know you don’t. But I know you run a service for fools and misfits who think they want to be mercenaries. I know you know the mercenary scene. This person has to leave the country now that he knows I am looking for him, and it would be right in character for him to try and go down the mercenary pipeline. But he’s not mercenary material-he’s a freak, a psychopath. And a stupid loser. So I thought maybe he’d turn up in one of your recruitment files and then I’d have him.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ve paid for a week of your time to find him out there,” a short sweep of her arm indicating the streets outside.

“It could take a lot longer than that to find a guy like you’re looking for. He could be anywhere.”

Her eyes went cold when she looked at me and said, “I only have a week,” but her mouth tightened just enough to show me the truth.

“You only have the grand, right?”

“You are very perceptive, Mr. Burke. I have only one thousand dollars, which I have already given you. It will take a long time for me to come up with that much money again.”

“How come?”

“It’s not important how come. It’s not your business and it won’t help you find this person for me.”

I looked at her a long moment. Her face went flat again; she wouldn’t make the same mistake with her mouth twice. She had lived someplace where an expressionless face was an asset, maybe the same place I lived when I was a kid. I asked her. “You ever do time?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I like to know what I’m working with.”

“So do I, Mr. Burke. And I already satisfied myself about you before I came here. I’m hiring you to do a job, that’s all. I know you’ve done a lot of jobs for a lot of people and never asked too many questions. I don’t expect to be treated any differently because I’m a woman.”

“That’s not why I’m asking. It sounds like you’re trying to find this guy so you can cancel his ticket, and I don’t want to get involved with any number like that. This guy’s not registered anyplace. I can’t trace him on the phone or through the mail-I have to go in the street. I can’t be that subtle about it. If I find him, and he turns up dead, people are going to be asking me questions. I can’t answer some of them.”

“There won’t be any questions.”

“I only have your word for that.”

“I always keep my word, Mr. Burke.”

“I don’t know that either. How the hell would I know? Give me a name-give me someone to call who’ll vouch for you.”

“There’s nobody in New York-nobody who would talk to you, anyway. You should know about people by now.”

“Look, Miss Flood. I’ve seen some things. I’ve done some things. I’m not stupid but I’m no mind reader. You want a bloodhound, I’ve got to know what you want to do with the man after I turn him up.”

Her white teeth against the heavy dark lipstick denied what might have been a smile. Very chilly. “What if I tell you that I only want to talk to him?”

“Is that what you’re saying?”

She looked at me carefully, ran the first two fingers of her right hand softly against the underside of her squarish jaw, then cocked her head slightly to one side and looked at me some more. “No.” She stood up. “May I have my money back, please? I don’t believe we can do business.”

She held out her hand, palm up. The other hand curled into a tight fist, held just in front of her waist. With legs slightly spread, she shifted her weight below her hips. The gun was in the desk drawer-no contest. I put the money in her hand and she stepped backward, brought both her hands together, bowed slightly and stepped back again. She opened both hands and spread them in front of me, like she was asking for something. The money had disappeared. The office was quiet. I looked to my right, and saw Pansy on her feet-a low growl, almost like a purr, came from deep in her chest but she didn’t move. I threw a switch on the desk and the door behind Flood locked with an audible click. Flood looked from the dog to me. I took out the pistol slowly and carefully and held it on the desk. I spoke softly, spacing the words.

“Listen to me. I am going to say something to the dog. It will not be an attack signal, no matter what it sounds like. Don’t do anything stupid, because I’m not going to. Just listen to me, please. You can’t do anything to me here. This is my place-I survive here. I am not trying to scare you or make you do anything foolish. I know you want to leave, and you’re going to. I’m not your enemy. I just want you to understand that you can’t come back. Don’t be stupid, and don’t get stupid ideas. When I say something to the dog, she’ll lie down. Then I’ll throw this switch, and the door will unlock. When I put the gun down on the desk, you open the door, go downstairs, leave here, and don’t come back. Do you understand?”

She didn’t change expression. “I understand.”

I looked over at Pansy-the hair on the back of her neck was standing straight up. “Pansy, jump!” and she immediately hit the deck like she’d been crushed with a hydraulic press. I threw the switch and Flood could hear the door unlock behind her. I cocked the pistol and laid it gently on the desk, the barrel facing her. I looked at Flood and bowed my head slightly as she had done. Without a word, she turned her back and walked toward the door. The roll of her hips looked deadly, not friendly this time. She closed the door behind her softly without looking back.

She didn’t make a sound going down the stairs, but the red light on the desk glowed to tell me she was three steps from the middle of the staircase. Then another glowed to tell me she was three steps from the bottom. There’s a switch if I don’t want the staircase to be there anymore, but I didn’t put my hand near it. I heard the downstairs door open and close. That didn’t mean anything. I went to my office door, opened it, and pointed out into the corridor. Pansy trotted out the door and over to the staircase. I went back to my desk and watched the light. It stayed on. Pansy was holding her front paws on that third step from the middle, like she was supposed to. I waited, heard Pansy’s short bark of disappointment, and knew that Flood had actually left.