Andrew Vachss - Two Trains Running

“Carl!”

“Calm yourself, Mother. Most of what has been reported in the popular press about the Nazis is nothing but Jew propaganda. You don’t really believe six million people were gassed to death, do you? Research shows that was physically impossible.”

“Carl, I never pry into your affairs, but-”

“Oh, I know you saw the flag, Mother. It’s just a symbol. A symbol of racial purity.”

Carl’s mother began sobbing softly. “You can’t…”

“Ssshhh,” he said, reaching over to stroke her shoulder.

“Carl, people were killed over there. And it wasn’t just Jews they put to death. They killed Gypsies and…”

“They never exterminated Aryans,” Carl said, firmly.

“But…”

“I know,” Carl told her quietly. “Mother, I truly know.”

1959 October 03 Saturday 13:39

“You never write anything down?” Beaumont said.

“Would you want me to?” Dett asked.

“I’m not saying that. But all that information you asked for, it’s a lot to remember.”

“It’s a skill you can teach yourself. Like driving a car, or shooting a gun. Takes practice, that’s all.”

“Makes sense to me,” Beaumont said. “That’s something I can understand. What I’m not so clear about is why you’d want to meet Dioguardi’s people way out in the country.”

“You ever see the way cops search a house?” Dett said. “They look into everything. They look under everything. But they never look up.”

“That’s why you want that old shack? Because it has that crawl space up top?”

“Yeah. Besides, I need them to think I’m local. An out-of-towner wouldn’t even know how to find that place, right?”

“That’s true. But how do you know they’re planning to jap you?”

Dett’s eyes were gray mesh, absorbing without reflecting.

Moments passed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Beaumont finally said. “What else would they do?”

1959 October 03 Saturday 15:22

“He frightens me,” Cynthia said. “Every time he comes here, he… he changes the air we breathe, somehow. I can’t explain it.”

“It’s not like you to get spooked, honey.”

“I know it’s not,” she said, crisply. “That’s why I’m saying it now.”

“You want me to cut him loose?” Beaumont asked.

“You’d do that, Beau? On nothing more than my… feeling?”

“Of course I would, Cyn. This… business we’re in, it’s probably like any other. There’s people you can never trust, people you can trust sometimes, but how many do you ever meet you can trust all the way?”

“I don’t know. You handle all the-”

“You,” Beaumont said, lovingly. “From the minute I was born, you.”

1959 October 03 Saturday 16:04

“You said one car,” the pawnbroker said to Dett.

“I said one space,” Dett rebutted, neutral-voiced. “There’s never going to be two cars back there at the same time. Just different ones, alternating.”

“That still should be more-”

“I came here as a courtesy, so you wouldn’t be surprised when you saw another car in the space I rented. I’ve always been polite to you, haven’t I? And I dealt fair, paid you what you wanted, didn’t I?”

“Yes. But-”

“All right. I’ll tell Mr. Beaumont you want to change the deal.”

“Anyone can say a name,” the pawnbroker said, in his professional bargainer’s voice.

“They can,” Dett agreed. “Sometimes, a man thinks he can make an investment with that. Spend a dime on a phone call, say a name, and get back a big reward. You seem like such a smart man. With your own business and all. I thought we were friends.”

“I-”

“You’re going to make some kind of call. If you make the right one, you’ll see I’m a man who tells the truth about who his friends are. If you make the wrong one, you’ll find out something else about me. When I come back, you tell me if you still want more money for that space, okay?”

1959 October 03 Saturday 16:22

“That was Nat,” Beaumont said, hanging up the phone.

“What could he want?”

“He said Dett used my name.”

“Well, he should, shouldn’t he? You were the one who sent him to Nat.”

“I’m not saying he did anything wrong. I’m just a little surprised. Nat was trying to shake Dett down for a few extra bucks. You’d think Dett would just pay it; what’s the big deal?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me, either. But what Nat really wanted was for me to be sure to tell Dett he called. Can you make any sense out of that?”

“I think he did something that scared the hell out of Nat,” Cynthia said. “And that’s not such an easy thing to do.”

1959 October 03 Saturday 22:22

“You got a name?”

“I’m the man who sent your boss the letter.”

“Oh. The cute guy. What d’you want now, pal?”

“I want to speak to your boss. Just like I said the last time I called.”

“The boss isn’t going to talk to some punk hustler. There’s a hundred ways you could have gotten that license.”

“You talking for your boss? Or are you just talking?”

“You’ll never know, pal.”

“Okay, messenger boy. Tell your boss I won’t be using the mail to deliver the next package.”

“Hey! If you-”

1959 October 03 Saturday 23:45

“What’d he look like?” Rufus asked Silk. The two men were in the back booth of a sawdust-floored juke joint, walled off from the other patrons by three men who stood in a fan around them, facing out.

“Like any of your regular hillbillies, man. Kind of tall, but not no giant. Slender, but not skinny. White skin, but not ex-con color. He just… average-looking, I guess. Not the kind of man leaves an impression. Except for his eyes.”

“What color?”

“I couldn’t even tell you, brother. Not in the light we was in. But it’s not the color, it’s the look.”

“Like nobody’s home?”

“That’s it! Even when he smiled-”

“And he gave you those?” Rufus asked Silk, looking down at the pimp’s open palm. “Just gave them to you?”

“You know what they are?”

“Looks like a pair of gold dice. With little diamonds where there’s supposed to be dots.”

“Solid gold, brother. Real diamonds. You never heard of these?”

“Supposed to be some kind of good-luck charm?” Rufus asked, his mind flashing to an image of the mojo Rosa Mae had described.

“You know how the greaseballs be moving in on our policy banks?”

“Our banks?”

“You know what I mean, man,” Silk said, deliberately not taking offense. “The numbers game is a colored thing. Always been. We invented it. Got a whole big industry behind it: dream books, charms, stuff like that. Naturally, Whitey sees us making some money, he wants it for himself.”

“You got me all the way over here so you could tell me that?”

“I know you don’t feature me, man. Behind what I do.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Rufus said. “I care about what you are. You’re a black pimp, that’s okay. What I got to find out is what comes first. Black, or pimp.”

Silk leaned back in the booth. He lit a cigarette with a small gold lighter. Half-closed his eyes. “Young boys, they think being a pimp takes a steel cock. What it takes is a steel mind.”

“Uh-huh.”

“They think it’s the perfect job, what I do,” Silk went on, unruffled. “All the free pussy in the world. What they don’t know is, there’s no such thing as free pussy. You pay, one way or the other.”

“Why you telling me all this?”

“Outsiders, they don’t understand The Life,” the pimp went on as if he had not been interrupted. “They think a whore’s a cold-blooded cunt. Like a slot machine-you slide in the money, and they open up. You want to know the truth? To be a high-class working girl, like the kind I got, you have to believe in love. That’s what they get from me. That’s what I pay with. See, a real mack, he knows everything comes from here,” Silk said, touching his temple in the same spot Dett had with his.45. “I talk for a living. I’m not going to do that with you. I came here to show you something. You don’t want it, I’ll just-”