Andrew Vachss: Footsteps of the Hawk

"Four," she said. "There's only one left now. A man. I just made that up…about the red ribbon. I got the idea from George. I mean, he didn't know why I was doing it. But he said, if I made them look like sex murders, they'd never suspect a woman did it. You didn't suspect it, did you? You're just a man. A weak, stupid man. Chasing shadows, and scared of them too. There never were any red ribbons. But the last one, a man…I can't make it look like a rape, so…"

"…so that's perfect," I finished for her. "That's the kind of work I do— you said so yourself. A hundred grand flat and I'll do them both, George and the other guy."

"You do think I'm crazy, don't you?" she said, a bright smile on her face. "I let you go and you'd run right to your pal Morales, wouldn't you? You're no killer. I asked around— that was all bullshit street gossip. You're a con man, that's what you are."

"I can get it done," I told her. "Why don't you just— ?"

"What, just listen to you? You're lying. You'd say anything to stay alive. Do anything too. I know about that. That's what I did. Did…did anything . That old man…"

"Capshaw?" I asked, trying to get her talking again, trying to catch her in a loop, anything…

"Capshaw? Oh yes. Capshaw. He's still making us play. Even dead, he can do that. He has the power. Money, that's the power. He told us. He showed us. And I was the last."

"What's this foundation thing?"

"The Adelnaws Foundation? That's his. And his friends' too. He told us about it. In his will, but it only happens if he dies of natural causes. He knew what we were. He knew what we'd do. So he made us wait. Spell it backwards."

I tried to do it in my head….SWANLEDA— didn't make sense. "I don't get it," I told her.

"Swan Leda," she said, offhand, the way you give someone your phone number. "It's from Greek mythology. Zeus turned himself into a swan. So he could rape Leda. Capshaw turned himself into…I don't know, whatever he was. Rich, I guess. He turned himself rich, so he could rape us. I was the last one. He called me, and I went up there to visit him. Just before he died. And he told me, about the will and all. I was last on the list."

"But if he told you— "

"Yes! You understand. You really do. That was my gift. Not the list— we all knew about the list— but the names, the real names…I was the only one who had that list."

"He knew what would happen…?"

"Of course he knew. He was my family, like he was my father. In my family, we know what to do. We all knew it, but I was the only one who knew it all."

My spine shuddered. I took a shallow breath, tried again, "Look, all you have to do is— "

" Here's what I'm going to do, Mr. Burke." She stepped on my words, focused now, her voice clipped and precise. "Listen good. And see if you still think I'm crazy. I'm leaving here soon. I'm going to meet Morales. One–on–one, I told him. And he's too macho–stupid to ever tell anybody else. He's coming to the loft, the one on Van Dam. That's where you're going to kill him."

"Okay, sure. I'm with you…"

"Sure you are, honey. Believe me, you are going to kill him. Morales has his notes. Somewhere, I don't know where, he's got his notes. He's an old harness bull, he'll have notes. He's been tracking you for a good while now. Lots of guys on the job know about it."

"Bullshit," I said. "Morales has no friends."

"That's right. That's why you thought he was the one shooting at you. At that gym in the Bronx. That was me— I'm a very good shot— qualified Expert every year at the range. I missed on purpose…and it worked. See, Morales doesn't need friends for this one," she said, a wide smile on her face. "Because you're going to kill him. Bang–bang, he's dead. And then you're going to come after me. Come right here. You were waiting for me. No sign of forced entry— you must have picked the locks. I bet they'll even find a set of picks in your jacket. And here's your gun," she said, waving the automatic. "Silencer and all. A real pro outfit. But I was too fast for you. I got the gun away from you and shot you. Right between the eyes. At close range, as we fought over the gun."

"It'll never fly," I said. "Who's gonna believe I was waiting— "

"Oh, everybody will believe it all right," she said. "Why, look! Here's a cigarette butt. And I don't smoke. Maybe they should check the saliva, see if they can make a DNA match. They'll have plenty to work with— head wounds don't hardly bleed at all."

"Anyone can take a— "

"I know. I just did. See, the problem isn't really you, Burke. It's Morales. That stupid grunt, he's been chasing me for a long, long time. Only he didn't know it, I don't think. He knew something was wrong with a couple of those murders, but nobody would listen. Any other cop, he'd have gone on with his life. But Morales, he doesn't have a life. Sooner or later, he was going to…Ah, it doesn't matter, does it? You and Morales, you're both going to solve my problems. All my problems."

"It won't work. Why don't you— ?"

"Shut up!" she snapped. "You're done talking. The only reason I'm not killing you right this second is maybe Morales won't show up on time. He could get in an accident, have a flat tire— I don't know. But I have to do him before I do you, just to make sure."

"It won't help," I said. "What I know, what I just told you— it's all written down. If anything happens to me— "

" Liar! " she hissed out at me. "Dirty liar. You don't have anybody. Just other…people like you. Thieves. Even if you did leave something, they'd only want money. I'll have money."

"What if Morales doesn't show up at all?" I tried. "Or what if he has backup? You could talk your way out of a lot of things, but not a dead body in your apartment."

"He'll show," Belinda said. "I got everything I need from you. Well, maybe everything. We'll see…."

She pulled the jersey bra up over her breasts, then over her head. She slipped off the shorts, stood there naked. "You think a man can be raped?" she whispered.

"I know they can," I said.

"I don't mean by another man, like in prison. Do you think a woman can rape a man?"

"I don't know."

"You and me, we're gonna find out, honey. Don't go away now."

She walked down the hall, an exaggerated wiggle to her hips, looking over one shoulder, blowing me a kiss. When she came back, she had a blue washcloth in her hand. She got on her hands and knees and started crawling toward me. When she got right on top of me, she raised her head, licked her lips. "I'm going to make you come, she purred. "In my mouth. And I'm going to spit it up on this," she told me, holding out the washcloth. Her eyes flickered under long lashes, looking up at my face. "Looks like you're not just a hit man, Burke," she whispered. "You're a rapist too."

"You're out of your— "

"No," she said. "No, I'm not. I look good, don't I? Isn't this perfect? I'm going to rape you. You're going to get nice and hard, and you're going to come in my mouth. Even though you know what I'm going to do with it. Even though you know you're going to die. You can't help yourself. Just watch…"

She pulled my cock toward her, stuffed its limpness into her mouth, sucked hard. I felt a tremor.

No!

Another, like a little shock wave. I couldn't…stop it. I felt myself go crazy, right in my own mind. I couldn't— she couldn't make me. But people did make me…when I was a kid. I felt that come back at me…and then the red dots flashed behind my eyes until they merged into a scream inside me and I snapped my head forward, trying to drive my forehead into the top of her skull….It didn't work— the leather straps pulled me up short. She craned her neck, looking up at me from under her bangs, my cock still in her mouth. She winked at me like we were sharing a joke— then she went back to work. I looked down, looked at her mass of chestnut curls covering my lap. And I went dead.