«Christ, they’re sharks!»
«I’m glad you understand… How far away are we? Your mother can barely whisper, but she’s terribly uncomfortable.»
«Less than a minute… Hey, maybe we should take her to the hospital! I mean, if she’s really—»
«Forget it, Counselor. That would mortify her more than Nanny’s. The teapot was empty.»
«Is that another twig from the tribal tree of wisdom?… No, it couldn’t be. Cora mentioned teapots—so did you.»
«Some things, Mr. Devereaux, like childbirth, are distinctly feminine experiences.»
«Thanks again—for the mister,» said Sam, swinging into the parking lot of Nanny’s Naughty Follies Et Cetera. «Nobody has to make my day, or last night. Madman Mac and his two absurd ‘adjutants’ who keep tackling me, bearded Greeks who’ve got my clothes, Aaron Pinkus calling me ‘Samuel,’ a brief that should be consigned to some legal hell, a bombed-out mother, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life falling in and out of love with me in the space of twenty minutes—and now a fucking hit man from Brooklyn after my ass! Maybe I should take myself to the hospital.»
«Maybe you should stop the car!» shouted Red Redwing, as Devereaux passed by the canopied entrance of Nanny’s emporium. «Now, back up about thirty yards!»
«You people bury your captives up to their heads in killer anthills,» mumbled Sam.
«It’s an option I’ll take under consideration,» said Redwing, opening the door and gently urging Eleanor Devereaux out of the car. «Will you get your ass outside and help me, or a hit man from Brooklyn will be the least of your worries!»
«All right, all right.» Sam did as he was told, finally holding his mother’s right arm as the three of them walked to the imposing building, where photographs of naked men and women were plastered all over the place, on the stucco walls and above the doorframe. «Perhaps I shouldn’t leave Mother’s car,» Sam offered softly.
«Good thinking, Counselor,» agreed Redwing, not without a note of sarcasm. «It might not be here two minutes later… I’ve got Eleanor, you just wait for that man Paddy or whatever his name is.»
«Eleanor?»
«We women more readily recognize kindred souls than men do. We’re brighter… Come along, Ellie, you’ll be fine.»
«Ellie?» said the astonished Devereaux as the stunning Indian woman took his mother inside. «Nobody calls her ‘Ellie’—»
«Hey, Fancy Dan!» intoned the coarse voice of a huge, heavyset middle-aged man, more apelike than human, who stood by the Jaguar and was obviously a guard-cum-bouncer. «We ain’t exactly got vallay parking here. Move the fag Jag!»
«Right away, officer.» Sam trotted back to the car under the disapproving eye of Nanny’s Special Force veteran.
«I ain’t no cop,» said the older carnivore of a man, as Devereaux got behind the wheel. «Read that as no police restraints, mister.»
«Understood, sir.» Sam started the engine. «You’re obviously with the diplomatic corps,» he added, spinning the wheel and shooting across the lot in a circle before stopping. The moment he saw Redwing and his mother come outside, he would rush back to the canopy, counting on the fact that even Nanny’s elderly King Kong would reflect on Red’s beauty and have a gentler disposition. Then the three of them could wait in the Jaguar for Paddy Lafferty to arrive with further instructions… Jesus, an «enforcer!» And a black limousine right out of a funeral procession racing down the street to his house! What was happening? He could certainly understand Washington’s desperation if there was any sympathy whatsoever for the Wopotami brief, but a hit man and a Black Maria with a passenger who bore no resemblance to «Penrod» was not the way for a civilized government to proceed. Negotiators were sent, not exterminators. Quiet meetings were held to seek civilized solutions, not death squads to impose them… Whoa, thought Devereaux. On the other hand, if Washington had learned that former General MacKenzie Hawkins—Madman Mac the Hawk—was behind this potential if remote fiasco of national security proportions, exterminators and death squads were the only solutions. The Hawk gave no quarter where the lace-pants of Dizzy City were concerned. Those pricky-shits, as he termed them, had taken the army out of his life and nothing, absolutely nothing, was too putrid to shove down their throats, the higher placed the better.
Whoa … no, double whoa! Sam considered with a sudden mental jolt. If Washington was responding in kind to Mac’s assault, it would include any and all persons around the Hawk. And the enforcer had used the names of Pinkus and Devereaux at the front desk! How the hell did that happen? Hawkins had arrived in Boston barely eighteen horrible hours ago, and by his own admission nobody in Washington had yet heard of one Sam Devereaux, much less Aaron Pinkus! How then? Even with today’s instantaneous global communications, one source had to have a fact or a name to transmit to a second source, or the specific information could not be received—and the name of an innocent, insinuated Devereaux was not known, and therefore neither was that of Pinkus. How?… Good God, there was only one answer—the Hawk was being followed! Right now, at this moment!
Where was Paddy? Christ, he had to get word to Mac! Somewhere close by, unseen by the Hawk, was a second person watching every move the old soldier made, and it took no criminal imagination to know that second unknown person was in touch with the enforcer two stories below Mac… Paddy, where are you?
Sam glanced over at the canopy; there was no sign of Redwing or his mother—also Nanny’s aging King Kong had left. Perhaps, if he was quick about it, he could get inside to the pay phone against the wall that he had used last night and reach Hawkins at the hotel. He was about to start the engine when, to his surprise, the huge bouncer came walking out of the door, rushed to the curb, and looked around, immediately centering his gaze on Devereaux and the yellow Jaguar. He gestured at Sam, instructing him to drive instantly to the entrance. Oh, my God, something’s happened to Mother! Devereaux gunned the engine and screeched to a stop under the canopy in 2.4 seconds. «What is it?» he cried to the now smiling simian with the straight gray hair.
«Boyo, why didn’t y’tell me you were with Miss Redwing? She’s a grand little girl, y’know, and I surely wouldn’t have been so impolite if I knew you were an acquaintance. Me apologies, bucko!»
«You know her?»
«Well, now, truth be told, I been at this lousy joint for more years than I care to count, since I got the pink slip from the force. Y’see, this rotten establishment is owned by m’widowed daughter-in-law—which had somethin’ to do with my gettin’ the pink slip, ’cause m’stupid son took the wrong bread to buy the place and got totaled in the crossfire—and Miss Redwing and her pals from Haavadd actually sued City Hall and got me a bigger pension. What d’y a think of that?»
«I have no thoughts, no comprehension of the events that swirl around me—»
«Yeah, the lovely Injun miss said you might sound a touch confused—and I wasn’t to pay no attention to your trousers.»
«I changed them! She knows that!»
«And I don’t care to know no details, boyo, but I tell ya this. You do dirt to that girl and you’ll answer to me, bucko. Now, get out and join the ladies. I’ll watch this fruit car of yours.»