Daniel kept talking, but Lucas lost track of what he was saying. A slow fire of anticipation spread though his chest j and stomach. Lillian Rothenburg, NYPD. Lucas bit his lip i and stared into a dark corner of Daniel's office, as the chief rambled on.
Lily.
A moment later he realized Daniel had stopped talking and was staring at him.
"What?" asked Daniel.
"I got an idea," Lucas said. "But I don't want to talk, about it."
An hour after dark, Lucas found Elwood Stone standing under a streetlight on Lyndale Avenue. This time, Stone didn't bother to run.
"What the fuck you want, Davenport?" Stone was wearing sunglasses and a brown leather bomber jacket. He looked like an advertisement for rent-a-thug. "I ain't holding."
Lucas handed him a deck of photographs. "You know this kid?"
Stone looked them over. "Maybe I seen him around," he said.
"They call him Harry Dick?"
"Yeah. Maybe I seen him around," Stone repeated. "What you want?"
"I don't want anything, Elwood," Lucas said. "1 just want you to give the boy some credit on a couple of eight-balls."
"Shit, man…" Stone turned away and looked up the street, doing a comic double-take in disbelief. "Man, I don't give no credit, man. To a crackhead? You fuckin' crazy?"
"Well, it's like this, Elwood. Either you give Harry a little credit-and it's got to be tomorrow-or I'll talk to Narcotics and we'll run your little round ass right off the street. We'll have somebody in your back pocket every day."
"Shit…"
"Or, I can have a talk with Narcotics and tell them you're temporarily on my snitch list. I'll give you some status for say… two months? How about that?"
"Why me?"
" 'Cause I know you."
Stone considered. If he went on the snitch list, he'd have virtual immunity from prosecution. It was an opportunity not to be missed, as long as nobody else found out.
"Okay," Stone said after a moment. "But keep it between you and me. You don't tell Narcotics, but if I get hassled, you jump in."
Lucas nodded. "You got it."
"So where do I find this motherfucker, Harry Dick? It's not like I know where he lives."
"We'll spot him for you. You give me your beeper number and I'll call you. Tomorrow. Probably early afternoon."
Stone looked at him for another long minute, then nodded. "Right."
CHAPTER 15
Lucas put a thousand dollars on the street between ten o'clock and noon, then headed out to the airport in a city car. Sloan called him on the way.
"He's there," Sloan said. "I talked to the next-door lady. She said he's usually out of there in the early afternoon. Sleeps late, usually leaves between one and two. His mother's gone out to South Dakota to see the old man."
"All right. Keep an eye on the place," Lucas said. "You got our friend's number?"
"Yeah."
"Lily's plane's on time, so I ought to hook up with you before one. If our boy goes for a walk before then, take him. No fuckin' around."
"Gotcha. Uh, our little Indian helper…"
"I'll pick him up. Don't worry about Larry."
"He could be a problem, the way he's talking," Sloan warned.
"I'll take care of it," Lucas said.
Hart bitterly fought the idea of putting money on the street, and threatened to quit. Daniel went to the director of Welfare and Hart got a call.
When Lucas talked to him that morning, Hart seemed more sad than angry, but the anger was there too.
"This could fuck me forever, man," Hart said. "With the Indian people."
"They're killing guys, Larry," Lucas said. "We gotta stop it."' "This is not right," Hart said.
And when Lucas outlined the proposal to pick up Harold Richard Liss, Hart laughed in disbelief.
"Don't fuck with me, Lucas," he said. "You're setting that boy up. You're going to plant the stuff on him."
"No, no, this is a legitimate tip," Lucas lied.
"Bullshit, man…"
They'd left it like that, Hart heading down to Indian Country with a pocket full of cash and a growing anger. He could be handled, Lucas thought. He loved his job too much to risk it. He could be cooled out…
Lily's plane was early. He found her in the luggage pickup area, watching the carousel with the suppressed embarrassment of somebody who suspects she has been stood up.
"Jesus, I missed you at the gate," Lucas said, hurrying over. She was wearing a beige silk blouse with a tweed skirt and jacket and dark leather high heels. She was beautiful and he had trouble saying the words.
"God damn it, Davenport," she said.
"What?"
"Nothing. That was just a general 'God damn it.' About everything." She rose on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek. "I didn't want to come back."
"Mmm."
"There's a bag," she said. She stopped a suitcase and Lucas lifted it off the carousel. "And there's the other, coming through now."
Lily's second bag came around, and Lucas grabbed the two of them and led the way to the parking ramp. On the way, he looked down at her and said, "How've you been?"
"About the same as I was yesterday," she said with mild sarcasm, squinting as the outdoor light hit her face. "I was out of here. Finished. Job done. I got to our apartment, opened the door, and the phone was ringing. David was in the shower, so I picked it up. It was a deputy commissioner. He said, 'What the fuck are you doing here?' "
"Nice guy," Lucas said.
"If there were honorary degrees for assholes, he'd be a doctor of everything," Lily said.
"How's David?" Lucas asked, as though he knew her husband.
"Not so good the first time, 'cause he was a little overexcited. After that, he was great," she said. She looked up at him and suddenly blushed.
"Women are no good at that kind of talk," Lucas remarked. "But it wasn't a bad try."
They stopped at the gray Ford and Lily lifted an eyebrow.
"We got something going," Lucas said. "In fact, we're in kind of a hurry. I'll tell you about it as we go along."
Hart was worse. He'd tried to talk money with some of his acquaintances, and everything, he said, had changed. He'd be a pariah. The Indian man who bought people. And he worried about Harold Richard Liss.
"Man, I don't like this, I don't like this." He sat in the backseat, twisting his hands. Tears ran down his face. He wiped them away with the sleeve of his tweed jacket.
"He's a fuckin' criminal, Larry," said Lucas, annoyed. "Jesus Christ, quit whining."
"I'm not whining, man, I'm…"
Lucas let the Ford idle along. A hundred yards ahead, Harold Richard Liss ambled down Lake Street looking in the store windows. "He was making money selling chloroform to little kids. And glue," Lucas said, interrupting.
"This still isn't right, man. He's a fuckin' teenager." Hart shivered.
"It's only for a couple of days," Lucas said.
"It still isn't right."
"Larry…" Lucas started in exasperation. Lily touched his shoulder to stop him and turned and looked over the seat.
"There's a big difference between Welfare work and police work," she said to Hart, keeping her face and voice soft and sympathetic. "In a lot of ways, we're on different sides. I think you'd be more comfortable if we just dropped you off."
"We might need his help," Lucas objected, glancing sideways at Lily.
"I won't be much help, man," Hart said. There was a new note in his voice, the sound of a trapped man who sensed an opening. "I mean, I spotted him for you. I don't know shit about surveillance. It's not like you need to interrogate him."
Lucas thought about it, sighed and picked up the radio. "Hey, Sloan, this is Davenport. You still got him?"
Sloan came back: "Yeah, no sweat. What's happening?"
"I'm dropping Larry. Don't worry when you see us stop."
"Sure. I'll hang with Harry."
Lucas pulled over to the side and Hart scrambled to get out. "Thanks, man," he said, leaning over the driver's side window. "I mean, I'm sorry…"