Эйс Аткинс - Kickback

We returned to the Vinoy hotel and ate lunch poolside. I had on nothing but a pair of running shorts and my Sox cap. I rarely wore the Sox cap in Boston. Too much competition. But deep down in Florida, in enemy territory, it stood out like a beacon of hope. This time of year, the place was crawling with Yankees fans. I finished off the last quarter of a club sandwich and drank some Yuengling on tap.

“Man could get used to living down here,” Hawk said. A lot of glistening bodies sunbathed by the pool while he worked on a tall Bloody Mary, taking inventory.

“Maybe Scali and Callahan will take you yachting.”

“I don’t think they want me in their club.”

“Bobby Talos has a boat in Boston,” I said. “Keeps it at the Boston Harbor Hotel.”

“We can pay him a visit when we get back.”

“Not if his attorney has anything to do with it,” I said. “Ziggy Swatek just left me a pretty nasty voice mail at my office. He threatened to sue for harassment.”

“We didn’t threaten Talos,” Hawk said. “Not yet.”

“He said I threatened Mr. DeMarco and his business partners.”

“In other words, those crooks.”

“Well,” I said. “Yeah.”

“This the attorney from Tampa?”

“Apparently he has offices in Boston, too.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Ziggy,” I said. “Swatek.”

“You’re making that up.”

I shrugged and drank some more beer. A woman in a skimpy purple bathing suit and very large sunglasses shimmied by. It seemed as if Hawk had lost his train of thought.

I coughed. “As I was saying.”

“Hmm,” Hawk said. “I could get used to this.”

The pool was sprawling, with a man-made waterfall cascading and plenty of space for bodies to laze about on floats. Palm trees swayed. Cables on the marina boats clanked in the warm wind. The sky was big and blue, with fat white clouds only momentarily obscuring the sun. A waiter appeared. I asked for another beer.

“Maybe we should pay ol’ Zig a visit,” he said.

“Confront him with what we know?”

“Why not?”

“He won’t say anything about the DeMarcos.”

“Then again, he may not know we know about the judges taking payoffs from Talos.”

“Technically, we don’t know. But I’d like to see his reaction.”

“Rattle that cage,” Hawk said.

I nodded. “More than we have now.”

Hawk dove off into the pool. Several women watched him as he started to swim laps. His dark skin and muscular shoulders and arms made him seem as if he’d been born to the water. He did four laps across the pool before he was sidetracked by the woman in the purple bathing suit. She rested on a yellow float and turned sideways, keeping a tricky balance, as she moved to speak to Hawk.

Maybe I could bring Susan back here when things slowed down. We could thaw out for a while. Maybe catch a Rays game and the Dalí museum. Susan could shop. I could drink beer and eat blue crabs. It would be lovely.

About the time I finished my second beer, Hawk paddled up to the side of the pool. He rested his sizable arms on the lip of the pool.

“Making friends?” I said.

“And influencing the ladies.”

“I think her bathing suit was influencing you.”

“Both,” he said. “She invited me to dinner.”

“Fast worker.”

Hawk grinned. I watched the pitch and fall of the sailboat masts in the harbor. The hotel stood pink and proud as it had back in Gatsby’s day.

“Don’t suppose we’re down here to frolic in the water,” Hawk said.

“Even in the water, it’s hard to imagine you frolic.”

“Where to?”

“Let’s go see Zig,” I said. “I don’t know anyone else down here. I only know people in Miami.”

Hawk nodded.

“But it could be useful to check in with them,” I said. “Perhaps they might offer an introduction.”

“Epstein?” Hawk said.

I nodded.

“Good to know some honest Feds,” Hawk said. He turned to look over his shoulder. The woman on the float raised a tropical drink in our direction.

“Meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes?” I said.

Hawk remained impassive behind his designer frames. “Babe, that wouldn’t do the lady justice.”

39

Ziggy Swatek’s office was on the seventh floor of a building in Tampa that resembled a beer can.

“Everything looks like a beer can to you,” Hawk said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But this building must have been designed on a very hot day.”

“Hmm,” Hawk said, standing with me on Ashley Street near the Hillsborough River. He looked upward, shielding his eyes and studying the tall, cylindrical shape. “You just may be right, man.”

We rode up together on the elevator. My knee was giving me a little trouble, but I didn’t acknowledge it. I start to complain about the knee, and soon Hawk and I would be trading cholesterol scores.

The Swatek Law Firm took up three office suites and had an interior that looked to have been designed by Marlin Perkins. Photographs of exotic animals lined the walls. The receptionist noted my staring and informed us Mr. Swatek was a world traveler and an animal lover. Hawk leaned in and said, “Reason he work with Jackie DeMarco,” he said.

“Is Mr. Swatek in?” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s not in the office. But his associate Sydney Bennett is in. Would you like to speak with her?”

“Terrific.”

“And your names, please?”

“Spenser and Hawk.”

“Mr. Spenser and Mr. Hawk,” she said, writing it down. “And may I ask your first names?”

“That’s all of it,” I said. “Kind of like Madonna.”

“Or Prince,” Hawk said.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was being racially insensitive.”

The woman studied us for a moment, not sure what to say, and picked up the phone. She let the party at the other end know a Mr. Spenser and Mr. Hawk were in the building. She put down the phone and gave an unsteady smile. Behind her was a picture of a cheetah chasing down a gazelle. Or maybe it was a small wildebeest. It was really hard to tell from the angle and all the blood. Another photo showed a herd of galloping giraffes. Hawk stood nearby, staring out the window at the river rolling by. A plaque on the wall noted that Swatek donated money to the Lowry Park Zoo.

After a minute or two, a young woman emerged from a hallway and walked out to the front desk. She was tall and moved with a lot of confidence, as if maybe she’d been an athlete in college. She had the build for it, maybe an inch shorter than me, with broad shoulders and muscular legs showing from a herringbone skirt. Her top was white silk and her shoes a modest black patent leather. She had bobbed brown hair and did not wear a lot of makeup. She offered her hand.

“You work fast, Mr. Spenser,” she said. “We only called you this morning.”

“Oh, well,” I said. “We were in the neighborhood.”

She asked if we wanted water or coffee. I accepted a little coffee and she nodded to the secretary. Hawk didn’t speak.

“This way,” she said. “Please. We’re looking forward to clearing up this matter.”

“We?” I said.

“Mr. Swatek is just back to the office.”

“Ziggy,” Hawk said. “Wow. Man sure moves quick.”

“Well, we weren’t exactly expecting you,” Sydney said. “I figured I’d be the one searching for you in Boston. I run the office there.”

“You don’t say.”

“In Brookline,” she said. “If we don’t settle this matter today, I look forward to seeing you there. I fly back tomorrow.”

“‘When strangers do meet, they should ere long see one another again.’”

“Who said that?”