Lawrence Block - A Walk Among the Tombstones

When I finally got off the phone I had to sit down. Kenan asked me if I was all right. I said I was.

“You don’t look so hot,” he said. “You look like you need a drink, but I guess that’s the one thing you don’t need.”

“You’re right.”

“Yuri just made some coffee. I’ll get you a cup.”

When he brought it I said, “I’m okay. It takes it out of you, talking to that son of a bitch.”

“I know.”

“I tipped my hand some, let him know some of what I know. It started to look as though that was the only way to get him off the dime. He wasn’t going to move unless he could control the situation completely. I decided to show him he was in a little weaker position than he realized.”

Yuri said. “You know who he is?”

“I know his name. I know what he looks like and the license number of the car he’s driving.” I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling his presence on the other end of the telephone line, sensing the workings of his mind. “I know who he is,” I said.

I explained what I’d worked out with Callander, started to sketch out a diagram of the terrain, then realized that what we needed was a map. Yuri said there was a street map of Brooklyn somewhere in the apartment but didn’t know where. Kenan said Francine had kept one in the glove box of the Toyota, and Peter went downstairs for it.

We had cleared off the table. All of the money, repackaged to hide the counterfeit bills, was packed into two suitcases. I spread the map on the table and traced a route to the cemetery, indicating the two entrances on the graveyard’s western border. I explained how it would work, where we’d set up, how the exchange would be made.

“Puts you right out in front,” Kenan observed.

“I’ll be all right.”

“If he tries anything—”

“I don’t think he will.”

You can always kill me, I’d told him. Yes I could, he’d said.

“I am the one who should carry the bags,” Yuri said.

“They’re not that heavy,” I said. “I can manage them.”

“You make a joke, but I am serious. It is my daughter. I should be out in front.”

I shook my head. If he ever got that close to Callander, I couldn’t trust him not to lose it and go for him. But I had a better reason to offer him. “I want Lucia to run to safety. If you’re there she’ll want to stay with you. I need you here,” I said, pointing to the map, “so you can call to her.”

“You’ll tuck a gun in your belt,” Kenan said.

“I probably will, but I don’t know what good it’ll do. If he tries anything I won’t have time to get it out. If he doesn’t I won’t have any use for it. What I wish I had is a Kevlar vest.”

“That’s the bulletproof mesh? I heard it won’t stop a knife.”

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It won’t always stop a bullet, either, but it gives you a sporting chance.”

“You know where you can get one?”

“Not at this hour. Forget it, it’s not important.”

“No? It sounds pretty important to me.”

“I don’t even know that they’ve got guns.”

“Are you kidding? I didn’t think there was anybody in this town doesn’t have a gun. What about the third man, the sharpshooter, guy hiding behind a tombstone covering everybody? What do you figure he’s doing the job with, a fucking Wham-O slingshot?”

“That’s if there is a third man. I was the one who mentioned him, and Callander was bright enough to follow my lead.”

“You think they’re doing this with two guys?”

“They only had two when they kidnapped the girl on Park Avenue. I can’t see going out and recruiting an extra person for an operation like this. This is lust murder that developed a commercial hook to it, not an ordinary professional criminal operation where you can go out and put a string of men together. There are some witnesses who would seem to indicate the existence of a third man in the two abductions that were witnessed, but they may just have assumed there was a driver, because that’s the way you would expect people to do it. But if you only had two people to start with, one of them would double as the driver. And that’s what I think happened.”

“So we can forget the third man.”

“No,” I said. “That’s the aggravating thing about it. We have to assume he’s there.”

I went into the kitchen for more coffee. When I came back Yuri asked how many men I wanted. He said, “We have you, me, Kenan, Peter, Dani, and Pavel. Pavel is downstairs, you met him coming into the building. I got three more men ready to come, all I got to do is tell them.”

“I can think of a dozen,” Kenan said. “People I talked to, whether they had money to kick in or not, everybody said the same thing. ‘You can use a hand, tell me, be right there.’ ” He leaned over the map. “We can let them get in position, then bring in a dozen more men in three or four cars. Seal up both exits, plus the rest of them, here and here. You’re shaking your head. Why not?”

“I want to let them get away with the money.”

“You don’t even want to try for it? After we’ve got the girl back?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s crazy to get into a firefight in a graveyard at night, or shoot at each other from cars careening around Park Slope. An operation like that’s no good unless you can control it, and there are too many ways this one can slip out of control. Look, I sold this by setting it up as a standoff, and I did a good job designing it that way. It is a standoff. We get the girl, they get the money, and everybody goes home alive. A few minutes ago that was all we wanted out of the deal. Is that still how we feel?”

Yuri said it was. Kenan said, “Yeah, sure, it’s all I ever wanted. I just hate to see them get away with anything.”

“They won’t. Callander thinks he’s got a week to pack his valise and get out of town. He hasn’t got a week. It won’t take me that long to find him. Meanwhile, how many men do we need? I think we’re fine with the people we’ve already got. Say three cars. Dani and Yuri in one, Peter and… is it Pavel in the lobby downstairs? Peter and Pavel in the Toyota, and I’ll ride with Kenan in the Buick. That’s all we need. Six men.”

The phone rang in Lucia’s room. I answered it and spoke to TJ, who was back at the laundromat after having no luck looking in driveways and at curbs for the Honda.

I went back to the living room. “Make that seven,” I said.

In the car Kenan said, “I figure the Shore Parkway and the Gowanus. That sound okay to you?” I told him he knew more about it than I did. He said, “This kid we’re picking up. How’s he fit into the picture?”

“He’s a kid from the ghetto who hangs out in Times Square. God knows where he lives. He goes by his initials, assuming they’re his initials and he didn’t find them in a bowl of alphabet soup. He’s been a big help, believe it or not. He put me on to the computer wizards, and he saw Callander tonight and got the license number.”

“You think he’s gonna do anything for us at the cemetery?”

“I hope he doesn’t try,” I said. “We’re picking him up because I don’t want him wandering around Sunset Park being resourceful when Callander and his friends are on their way home. I’d like to keep him out of harm’s way.”

“You say he’s a kid?”

I nodded. “Fifteen, sixteen.”

“What’s he want to be when he grows up? A detective like you?”

“That’s what he wants to be now. He doesn’t want to wait until he grows up. I can’t say I blame him. So many of them don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Grow up. A black teenager living on the streets? They’ve got the average life expectancy of a fruit fly. TJ’s a good kid. I hope he makes it.”