Роберт Паркер - Double Play

Burke knew the voice.

“Lauren,” he said.

“Yes. I just got home.”

“Un huh.”

“He’s going to kill Robinson,” she said.

“Who is.”

“Louis.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. If he knew I told you he’d kill me.”

“When?” Burke said.

“Sunday, during the doubleheader against Pittsburgh.”

“At Ebbets Field,” Burke said.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you know,” Burke said.

“You can’t ever tell him I told,” she said.

“I won’t. Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything else.”

“He told you he was going to kill Jackie,” Burke said. “Tell me about that.”

“Yes,” Lauren said. She seemed to be having trouble breathing.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay... we were drunk and crazy with pills and he said did I ever think about you... and I said no... which was a lie... and he said how about when we were doing it, you know, sex, did I ever pretend he was you... and I said no... And he said he didn’t believe me... And he laughed and said here’s something to get your attention... He said, I’m going to kill Jackie Robinson... And I said how about Burke, are you going to kill Burke... And he kind of laughed and said I’m not going to... As if maybe, you know, somebody else was.”

“Is it to get even with me?”

“I don’t know.”

“If that’s it, why not kill me?”

“His father. His father told him to stay away from you.”

“And he does what his father says?”

“If he says it... if he says it in a certain way... Louis is afraid of him.”

“Is he going to do it himself?”

Lauren laughed. Burke thought it sounded ugly.

“Of course not... He’ll have it done... He’ll want to watch... and giggle.”

“Do you know who will do it?”

“No. He has lots of people.”

“Can you find out any more?”

“No. God no. No. He’d kill me in an awful way if he knew I even called you.”

“I’ve got to tell the cops.”

“No. You can’t. He’d know. Please, please, please. You can’t.”

“Jesus Christ,” Burke said.

“My God, I hear him coming. Please!”

She hung up. Burke sat on the bed holding the phone for a time and then very slowly, as if it were difficult to do, he carefully placed the phone back in its cradle. He sat some more. The light outside his window got a lighter gray. From the bedside table, he picked up the big GI .45 which was his legacy of the war and looked at it for a moment. Then, holding it, he stood, and walked to the window, and looked down at the street, and watched the morning brighten.

“We can’t ignore the threat,” Rickey said.

“I know.”

“We also can’t have Jack playing baseball in an armed camp. We are selling baseball, family entertainment; and we are selling him. People aren’t going to come watch him play if they think there will be gunfire, for God’s sake.”

“Can’t have cops showing,” Burke said.

“Perhaps we best not mention it.”

“The ballpark threat, no. But you need to cover his home. The first thing he’ll want to know is about protecting Rachel.”

“Perhaps we best not mention it to him.”

“Get somebody to watch out for Rachel,” Burke said.

“I can arrange for that, I believe.”

“Your word,” Burke said.

“You have it.”

“Good,” Burke said. “They said they’d shoot him during the doubleheader. That implies while he’s playing.”

“It would be a dramatic thing to do,” Rickey said.

“It would,” Burke said.

They both sat silently for a moment.

Then Burke said, “We both know, Mr. Rickey, that complete protection isn’t possible.”

Rickey nodded.

“I don’t want him hurt,” Rickey said.

Burke said, “It’s like the war, Mr. Rickey. All you can do is be ready and do what you can. We’ll have to tell Robinson.”

“No.”

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

“Do you think that’s wise? He might be more comfortable, not knowing.”

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

“And if I instruct you not to?” Rickey said.

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

Rickey, his cigar clamped in his mouth, was studying Burke. His eyes narrowed.

“And if I fire you?”

Burke sat back a little in his chair. His voice was the same voice that he’d had since Rickey met him, flat, without emotion, not very loud.

“You do what you gotta do, Mr. Rickey. Fire me. Don’t fire me. I’m going to do what I’m gonna do, and I’m in this until it’s over.”

Rickey moved the cigar around without taking it from his mouth.

“Why?” he said.

Burke sat for a minute rubbing his palms together, looking at his hands, which were slightly distorted from prizefighting.

“All my life,” he said flatly, looking at his thickened hands, “I never done anything amounted to jack shit.”

“You were in the war,” Rickey said. “That was worth something.”

“That was me and ten thousand other guys going where they sent us, doing what they told us — which was to kill ten thousand Japs who went where they were sent and did what they were told.”

“Many consider you a hero, Burke.”

“I got shot to pieces on Bloody Ridge,” Burke said, “ ’cause that’s where they sent me. And that’s what they told me to do.”

“In defense of liberty,” Rickey said.

“Sure,” Burke said. “Probably was.”

“But it’s not enough.”

“Enough?” Burke said. “It’s a fucking Fourth of July speech, for which I got destroyed.”

“But Jackie?”

“Jackie’s my chance,” Burke said.

“For what?”

“Not to stay destroyed,” Burke said.

“And he amounts to a lot more than jack shit,” Rickey said.

Burke nodded.

“I think it will be best,” Rickey said, “if you tell him of the threat.”

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

“And no one else,” Rickey said. “It will remain our secret.”

“Sure.”

“You could take Sunday off,” Burke said.

“I could,” Jackie said. “And if I told you I wasn’t scared I’d be lying.”

“You been scared since this started,” Burke said.

Jackie looked at him hard.

“You think so?”

“Sure. You’re alone against the world and people hate you. Of course you’re scared. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I’m not alone,” Jackie said. “I’m with Rachel.”

“Yeah,” Burke said. “You are.”

“And I had all those people up on Lenox Avenue when Paglia wanted to shoot me.”

“Yeah,” Burke said. “You did.”

Jackie grinned suddenly.

“And I got you.”

Burke laughed without amusement.

“Hot dog!” he said. “You want to take Sunday off?”

“Can’t,” Jackie said. “Then we get a letter saying they gonna kill me on Monday? I take Monday off? Tuesday? Wednesday? The season?”

Burke nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I get it.”

“You gotta see to protection for Rachel,” Jackie said.

“I’ve got Rickey’s word,” Burke said. “There will be people with her.”

Jackie nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Then we just go about our business.”

“It may be nothing anyway.”

“And if it’s something,” Jackie said, “you’ll handle it.”

“Sure,” Burke said.

“So you worry about it,” Jackie said.

“Sure,” Burke said.

Burke drove up to Harlem to Wendell Jackson’s pool hall.

“I was hoping you’d let me borrow Ellis next Sunday,” Burke said.