We went to the last bedroom. She dropped the robe to the floor. The choke collar was around her neck, leather leash dangling to her knee. I sat on the psychiatrist's couch, pulling hard on the leash. She came to the couch obediently, eyes dreamy. I pulled again. She sat on the couch, slipped onto her hands and knees. I stood up. "Stay there," I told her.
I walked behind her. She dropped her shoulders to the couch, her round butt seemed to shimmer in the dim light. "Stay the way you were," I said.
She pushed herself back up on her hands, saying nothing.
"I know where the stuff I want is. Stay there."
I went to her closet. Found what I needed. When I walked back, she hadn't moved.
"Put your hands behind your back."
The handcuffs were leather-lined. I snapped them home. Looped the leash through one of the rings in the floor.
She licked her lips. Cold cat's eyes. Feral and fearless.
I knotted the leash. Her shoulders came forward, bent, touched the couch. I stepped behind her. Her slim ankles were close together, muscles bunched on the backs of her thighs. I cuffed her ankles together. Held a length of chain in my hands. She crooked her feet back over her butt in an arch, holding her cuffed hands back toward her ankles, waiting to be hog-tied the way another woman would wait for a bus. I linked the chain to the cuffs holding her ankles. But then I pulled back, hard. The front of her calves hit the couch. I tightened the chain around one of the couch legs. She was spread out, on her stomach, chin on the couch. The way I'd been on those subway tracks.
Her body was faintly coated with sweat, like she'd been oiled. I put a tube-shaped leather pillow under her hips.
"I can't move an inch," she purred. Like it was magic words.
I put one knee on the couch next to her. Patted her butt lightly. Slid my hands up to her shoulders.
"There's a mirror. Behind the screen. If you want…"
She was still talking when I pushed the ball gag into her mouth, slipped the elastic over her head.
Then I went looking for what I'd come for.
There had to be another room someplace. I found it off the dressing room. A butcher-block desk with one of those tiny designer lamps. A high-tech phone with a row of unmarked buttons down one side. I wrapped a handkerchief over my finger. Pushed each button, watching the stored number come up on the liquid crystal screen. I filed the numbers in my head, hanging up before they could ring even once. Ten buttons. Only four had numbers stored.
I stepped into one of the bathrooms. Flushed the toilet. Candy had it backwards. It wasn't her who knew me. Now.
I was back inside the last bedroom in a couple of minutes. Slipped the elastic off her head. The ball gag popped out.
"You okay now, baby?" she asked.
"Not yet."
"I thought…"
"I'm not finished," I said, unlocking the cuffs from her ankles. She wiggled her hips. It wasn't to get the feeling back. I unlocked the cuffs from around her wrists. She waited. I unknotted the leash. Pulled her to her feet.
"Get dressed."
Her eyes were downcast, voice soft, feeling her way. She wasn't good at ad-libs. "Tell me what to wear. Tell me everything- I can't get dressed unless you tell me what to put on."
"A sweater and a skirt."
"Should I wear a bra, honey?"
"Yeah."
"Panties?"
"Yeah."
"What color?"
"It doesn't matter."
"I…"
"Pink, okay? Do it quick."
"Should I wear stockings? Heels?"
"No."
"How old am I?"
"You'll see," I said, pulling hard on the leash. "Hurry up."
I pulled her down the hall to her dressing room. Watched as she dressed.
"Where's the key to this place?"
She handed it to me. I put it in my pocket. "Come on," I said, bunching the leash in one hand, holding it behind her neck. Even when we were kids, that was the way I held her- never her hand.
I led her to the front door, opened it, pushed her outside. She didn't say a word. The hall was carpeted. I took her to the stairwell door. One short flight to the roof. Twenty flights below us. A naked red bulb was the only light. Emergency Exit. I prodded her forward. Pulled the leash. She stopped. I was one step behind her.
She knew what to do. Grabbed the railing with both hands as I lifted her skirt from behind. "What if somebody comes?" she whispered. Making it come back.
"Too bad for them." Max one flight below us. Only one person was going to come.
My zipper rasped. Her hands went behind her, thumbs hooking the waist of her panties. She had them down just before I slammed into her.
I felt the muscles inside her grab and hold. I never touched the silicone.
It didn't take long. She made a greedy noise as I shot off inside her. Pulled up her own panties. Never turned around. Like old times.
BACK IN her apartment. Candy sitting on her couch, the leash a dark line between her breasts inside the bright yellow sweater.
"You'll get her back for me now?"
"Yes." I took her key out of my pocket, running my fingers over it, rubbing hard. I tossed it to her. It bounced off her shoulder. She never took her eyes from me.
"I always loved you," she said.
125
I TOOK THE stairs down with Max.
The Prof was waiting in Morehouse's car. I handed him the soft plastic block from my pocket. The key to Candy's apartment was sharply outlined on its face.
"Tell the Mole I need two, okay? He can leave them in one of the cars for Monday night."
"It's done, son."
126
MONDAY, MIDNIGHT. Max and I pulled off the FDR, leaving the car to the darkness. Michelle was in the back seat. Max waited while I walked along the riverbank with Michelle. She leaned into me, her hand on my arm.
"Here's the papers you wanted," I told her.
"This is pretty thick for just a passport," she said, putting the packet into her purse.
"The rest is from the Mole."
She stopped in her tracks. Slit the envelope with a long thumbnail while I lit a smoke. I saw a wad of greenbacks. And a note on the graph paper the Mole uses for stationery. I left her to herself, smoking in silence. When she turned her face to me, tears streaked the perfect makeup.
"After tonight, I'm gone from here."
"I know."
"When I come back, I'll be me."
"Yeah."
"I love you, Burke," she said. Pulled my face down to kiss my cheek. "You watch out for my boy- you take care of him."
I didn't ask her who she meant. "Come back at one, okay?" I told her. "You'll hear some kind of a big bang. Wait five, ten minutes. We're not here, go. If we're coming, we're coming fast. You see us coming toward you, just walk away, leave the keys in the ignition."
"I'm not running around in this mess in my good shoes."
"I mean it, Michelle. Don't wait. We don't need a driver."
She gave me another quick kiss. "Take care of Max," she said.
The ground felt squashy under my boots as we made our way down to the river. Manhattan is a big island; the East River separates it from Queens, dotted by smaller islands. Welfare Island. Roosevelt Island. Once they used them for insane asylums, hospitals, leper colonies. Now they use them for luxury co-ops. Other islands too. Real small ones. Just clumps of dirt and trees sitting in the river. You could get a good view of the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge from them.
Michelle would wait on the Manhattan side. We couldn't just stash a getaway car in that neighborhood- it wouldn't be there when we needed it. The Prof was in place on the Queens side. When the pressure came, we'd move away from it. If we could.