Andrew Vachss - Flood

We walked through the park to the car. I saw one of the local denizens looking at Flood’s pocketbook and was tempted to let her walk on alone just so at least one miserable purse-snatcher would meet justice head on, but it wasn’t worth it. Actually, I wouldn’t have minded Flood walking ahead of me just to watch her walk.

When we got to the Plymouth, I checked it quickly, opened my door, and Flood slid in first. We drove over toward the East Side Drive, down to the Park amp; Lock joint near the river. I wanted to approach the Daily News Building on foot. I turned off the engine, rolled down the window, lit a cigarette, and waited. It’s always good to wait. Most people lack patience, especially when they’re doing something they really don’t want to do.

It was quiet and dark in the lot, even in the middle of the day, and Flood didn’t seem in a hurry. She just sat quietly, watched me smoke, and finally said, “You’re not carrying guns today, are you?”

I turned away from the window. She was sitting with her legs crossed, elbow on one knee, chin in her hand. “Why do you say that?”

“A person walks differently when he’s carrying a weapon. He moves differently. You can always tell.”

“You learn that in Japan?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they told you wrong. I don’t walk differently, I don’t move differently.”

“Burke, you’re not carrying those guns.”

“I’m armed.”

She looked at me, smiled, and said “Bullshit” in a merry voice. I looked as injured as possible under the circumstances.

“You want to search me?”

Flood gave me a throaty laugh, said “Sure,” and put her hands inside my coat, under the arms, down my ribcage, around to my back, into the waistband of my slacks, dropped her hands to my ankles. Came up empty. She raised her eyebrows, patted my groin and round the inside of my thighs. Back to the groin again. “Is this what you mean?”

I tried to look serious, settled for a kiss on the tic-tac-toe scar instead and lit another cigarette. Flood looked pouty.

“Look,” I said, “those folks in Japan don’t know everything. I’m not trying to put them down, but you won’t survive long if you believe everything someone else tells you.”

“I still don’t see any guns.” Flood tapped her fingers on my knee as if she were patiently waiting.

I tightened my right fist, brought it up against my shoulder, flexed my bicep hard until I popped the Velcro flap inside the sleeve at the elbow joint. I pulled my fist rapidly away from my shoulder, opening it just in time to catch the short metal tube as it slid down my sleeve through the silk channel into my open hand. It wasn’t as smooth as Flood and her star, but her mouth popped open like she’d just seen magic. She clapped her hands delightedly. “Burke, what’s that?”

“What’s it look like?”

“Like a big fat lipstick.”

I held it in my hand and told her to look closely. The tube was perfectly machined steel, about two-and-a-half inches long. Inside was a.357-magnum hollow-point slug. All you do is press hard on the back of the tube and the slug comes out the front. The Mole wouldn’t guarantee accuracy over five feet but he did guarantee it would work. Flood reached for it but I jerked it away from her.

“Can’t you unload it and let me look at it?”

“You can’t unload it. Once you force the slug in against the spring, that’s it.”

“Can you reload it after you use it?”

“Nope. You shoot it once-it blows up a piece of your hand and whatever’s in front of your hand, and that’s all there is.”

“What a crazy thing.”

“You just searched me. Did you find it?”

“The star is better.”

“Better for you. It takes skill to throw that damn thing. All it takes for this is the guts to push the button.”

She sat there for a while, obviously thinking it over. Like she knew something was wrong but couldn’t get a grip on it. I smoked another cigarette while she was thinking. Finally she said, “It’s no good. It doesn’t even look like a gun. You couldn’t hold it on anyone and make them do anything. It wouldn’t scare anyone.”

“It’s not supposed to scare anyone. Nobody’s even supposed to see it, much less get scared by it. It’s just in case.”

“In case of what?”

It was my turn to shrug. I took off the jacket, put the tube back inside, refastened the Velcro flap, tried it back on, and moved around inside the jacket until I was comfortable again. “Ancient philosophy covers everything, right? People have evolved since those Japs went into the mountains to study the fine art of breaking other people into little pieces. We got all kinds of freaks walking around this planet who didn’t even exist a hundred years ago. This is for them, not for me. You have a reason to be here, but only for a while. Then you’ll go back to wherever you came from and do whatever you did before. I have to stay here-it’s a life sentence for me. So don’t tell me how a man looks when he’s carrying a gun-you don’t know, little girl. You may be the toughest broad on this whole earth, okay? But in this little section of it you’re ice cream for freaks.”

Flood looked like her whole face went flat except for her eyes. I didn’t let it stop me. “Don’t get an attitude, Flood. I’m not trying to be your daddy. If I was in fucking Japan looking for someone I’d at least have enough sense to find a translator first, right? We’ve got work to do, and I can’t have you stomping around like a fool-you’ll fuck things up. And I’ll get my ticket cancelled.”

Flood tried to sound bitter. “That’s the real issue, huh?”

“Ah, kiss my ass.” I threw my hand up in disgust and opened the door to get out. Flood’s hand turned into a grappling hook as she hauled me back inside like I was a featherweight and slammed me back against the driver’s seat.

Still holding the lapel of my jacket, she thrust her square little face right against mine, growled “Maybe later,” and giggled. Then she leaned over and kissed me hard on the mouth. “Let’s be friends, okay?”

“I am your friend,” I said, “I just don’t want-”

Flood made a shut-up gesture with her hands. “That’s enough. I’ll listen to you-you’ll listen to me. Let’s do it.”

I nodded my head. We both got out of the car and started up the block to the Daily News Building.

AS WE WALKED up Forty-second Street I kept my hands in my pockets. Flood rested her left hand on my forearm, keeping the other one free and loose. There’s something about that street that makes you think a freak is going to jump out of every alley, even when you’re way over on the East Side. Now that we had some of the ground rules straight, Flood decided to ask some questions. “What are we going to do at the News Building?”

“We’re not going to do anything. I’m going inside to see someone-you’re going shopping.”

“Look, Burke-”

“Flood,” I said wearily, “I’m not leaving you out of anything. There’s no reason for this guy I have to meet with to see your face, right? And besides, you really do need some kind of disguise if you’re going to go around with me. We don’t know what’s going to come down when you meet up with this Cobra freak. There’s no need for people to see you.”

“We are going to find him, Burke?”

“We are going to find him, yes. For damn sure if he’s still in the city. And eventually even if he’s not. Okay? But you’ve got to loosen up. Let me do what I can do-then you’ll get your shot at him.”

Flood smiled. A genuine, happy smile. “Okay!”

“All right, listen. You have to buy some clothes and some other stuff. You got money?”