‘Easy, lady,’ a voice said in her ear. ‘We’re gonna do us a little fishing.’
She jerked her head up sharply and the hand slipped away from her mouth and she bit it. Hard. And kept biting until she tasted blood in her mouth. The man screamed and she whirled away from him. Another grabbed her in the darkness and spun her into the room. She was caught in a kaleidoscope of movement, images and voices: a new voice in her ear saying, ‘Don’t worry, you are okay’; a table in the middle of the room with a candle, set in a pool of its own wax, burning at one corner; another man standing between her and the candlelight; a towering, frightening silhouette in a thick fur jacket; black shaggy hair; a black full beard. And those eyes, peering from the dark, shapeless face; cold gray eyes looking right through her; the big man charging past her, swinging through the doorway in a crouch.
Little Ears was backed against the wall, his bleeding hand in his mouth, his face bunched up with anger. He hadn’t expected the big man. As he turned, the big man’s foot swept in a wide arc and shattered Little Ears’ wrist bone. The gun, a police special, spun out of his hand, flew across the hallway and stuck in the plaster wall, muzzle first, its stock and chamber protruding out into the hail.
Little Ears swung his hands up in a classic karate position and leaped toward the pistol, but before he could complete the move, his attacker twisted sideways and lashed out with his left leg. He missed, but the move distracted Little Ears and the big man whirled and caught him deep in the gut with the heel of his other foot. Breath whooshed out of Little Ears like air from a punctured balloon. His face turned red with pain and he jack-knifed forward, clutching his stomach. The big man twisted him around with one hand and slammed him in the middle of the back with the palm of the other.
Little Ears flew across the hallway, almost tiptoeing, trying vainly to regain his footing. His arm smashed through the cracked pane of the door, hanging at the entrance to the dock, was caught there for a moment and then the door tore loose and he sprawled headlong onto the dock in a shower of broken glass and curse words. The old dock creaked under his weight. He rolled fast, got his feet under him and jumped into a crouch, but the big man in the fur jacket was all over him. He grabbed Little Ear’s wrist, twisted hard, stepped in close and flipped him in a tight loop.
Little Ears kept moving, rolling out of the loop, trying to get back into the hallway. He snapped his wrist and a switchblade slid from his sleeve into his hand. The blade hissed from the handle, glittering in reflected light. Before Little Ears could turn, the big man leaped into the doorway and slashed his elbow into Little Ears’ jaw. The blow knocked him back onto the dock. He hit the antiquated dock railing, which cracked under his weight. He staggered away from it and took a hard swipe with the knife. Its blade swished an inch from the big man’s face. The big man stepped in fast, getting inside his reach, but Little Ears slashed back and the knife sliced through the big man’s jacket and ripped into his shoulder.
The big man did not utter a sound. He feinted with a chop, stepped back as Little Ears made another swipe, then moved in and threw a body block across him, grabbing his wrist and twisting. Little Ears shrieked and fell to his knees. The knife clattered to the floor.
The big man spun him around, wrapped his wounded arm around Little Ears’ neck, ground his fist into his throat and held the point of the knife against his jugular. He pressed a knuckle from his fist into Little Ears’ carotid.
‘Calm down,’ the big man said. ‘It would be real embarrassing to get your throat cut with your own knife.’
Little Ears grunted something and tried to twist away.
The knuckles dug in deeper. Little Ears growled with pain. The big man said, ‘Listen to me, pal, if you’re after O’Hara, you missed the party.’
Little Ears stopped struggling, He moved his head away from the knife. ‘Aaargh ... larder. . . furmilpuf ...‘ he said.
The big man let up the pressure with the knuckle a little. ‘What was that?’ he asked.
‘Somebody’s already pushed him over?’ Little Ears asked in a husky voice.
‘No, the Winter Man called off the sanction. The Game’s over.’
Little Ears snapped ‘Bullshit!’ and tried to pull away. The knuckle dug in harder. In a moment Little Ears began to go limp. The big man loosened up again. Little Ears was not convinced. He glared at the girl. Then he said, ‘That lying Winter Man told me this was my stunt. Exclusive, he said.’
The big man drove the knuckle into the artery again. His shoulder was killing him, but he kept the pressure on, neutralizing Little Ears.
‘If you don’t calm down, you’re going to have a sore throat for the rest of your life,’ the big man said and turned to Eliza. ‘You got the letter from Dobbs?’
Her eyes were as wide as dollar pancakes. She nodded vigorously.
‘Well, get it up before this jackass dies on me.’
She dug in her bag, thrashing around among clinking mirror, lipstick, comb, brush, hairpins, pens, paper, and finally produced the letter. But Little Ears wasn’t interested. He jammed his elbow into the big man’s ribs and twisted, and the big man let him go, kicked him hard in the kneecap and threw a hard punch straight to Little Ears’ temple. The man hit the railing and it shattered. He soared off the dock, head over heels, and hit the water six feet below, spread-eagled.
The big man leaned back against the wall and sighed. ‘I hope you can swim,’ he said, looking down at Little Ears, who was floundering in the frigid black water,
Little Ears struggled to the dock and dragged himself up on it. He collapsed on his hands and knees.
The big man grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him up, and dragged him into the room. He held the letter in front of Little Ears’ face. ‘Can you read?’
Little Ears tried to focus his eyes. He was beginning to shiver. He spat water on the floor.
‘Read it!’
Little Ears waited until his eyes could focus, and he read the letter. ‘Son of a bitch,’ he said. He read it again, shaking his head in disbelief.
‘You almost got yourself burned for nothing,’ the big man said. His shoulder was throbbing.
Little Ears rubbed the spot on his neck. It was already beginning to bruise. His voice was a tortured whisper. ‘I don’t believe this,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I fucking don’t believe this. You know what I got in this job? I started following her in San Francisco, for Chrissakes. I must be close to six grand out of pocket. And that don’t count the time. Three, four weeks. I must be out, dammit, close to ten grand.’
‘Send the Winter Man a bill.’
‘I’ll send him a bill, I’ll go back and castrate the son of a bitch.’
‘Good, you’ll need this.’ The big man pressed the release button on the knife and shoved the blade against the wall. It slid back into the handle. He tossed it to Little Ears. ‘At least you got your knife back,’ he said.
‘Jesus, I don’t believe any of this,’ Little Ears said, still shaking his head, and he dragged his wet, shivering body from the room, pulled his .38 out of the wall and limped up the stairs, the gun hanging forgotten in his hand as he went out the door, still rubbing his throat.
The big man turned to Eliza. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘you looked pretty good in there, for a midget.’
Eliza’s eyes were still the size of dollar pancakes, and the questions came tumbling as they returned to the street. ‘Are you okay? Who was that? Is he just going to walk away from it like that? Isn’t he mad or something? You almost broke his neck. You threatened to cut his throat. He tried to kill you. What the hell’s going on, anyway? Won’t he come looking for you later?’
‘He’s a head-hunter,’ the big man said. ‘First thing they learn, never let emotion get in the way of business. If he starts feeling instead of thinking, he’ll end face-up smiling at the moon.’