the world to which she belonged eight hours a day. Plus overtime, like this evening.
‘Just coming!’
She walked away, and Jordan was alone again with his thoughts.
Even leaving aside the personal aspect, it really
was
a nasty business. To be handled with care. And if he was right, the heat was only just starting. When he had closed the door of his brother’s office in Gracie Mansion, the post-mortem report had not yet arrived. He had preferred to leave Christopher to his feelings as a father and his duties as a Mayor. Jordan didn’t know which of the two roles at that moment was the worse.
He had called Burroni and arranged to meet him here. He had just finished his coffee when the detective appeared, framed in the window.
He was wearing the same suede jacket and round-brimmed black hat he had worn that morning. He came in and looked around. When he spotted Jordan, he came over to the table with that strange walk of his, the centre of gravity low, like a soccer player’s. He was holding a sports paper with a yellow folder sticking out of it.
Burroni came level with him and stood there. He looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else, with someone else.
‘Hello, Jordan.’
‘Sit down, James. What are you having?’
Jordan gestured to a passing waitress, who stopped to take the order.
‘A Schweppes. I’m on duty.’
Burroni collapsed onto the chair facing him and put the newspaper down on the table. The folder slipped out a little and Jordan glimpsed the letters
NYPD
on the front.
‘Let’s get things clear straight away, Marsalis.’
‘That’s all I ask.’
‘I guess you don’t like me, but that’s neither here nor there. The real problem is that I don’t like you. And I certainly don’t like this situation. I’m sorry about your nephew, but—’
Jordan lifted his hands. ‘Stop right there. I don’t know what you’ve been told and I don’t care. But I would like you to listen to what I have to say.’
Burroni took off his hat and put it on the empty chair next to him. He leaned back in his own chair, folded his arms, and waited. ‘All right, I’m listening.’
‘I don’t believe you’re particularly sorry about my nephew. You think he was a freak who met the end he deserved, someone the world won’t miss. That’s your problem and I don’t expect you to understand. But I think you’ll have to get used to the situation. We’re not getting married, James. But we have a job to do, and we have to do it together. We both have reasons for hoping it works out.’
Burroni put his elbows on the table and looked him in the eyes. ‘If you’re referring to this Internal Affairs business, you have to understand I—’
Jordan did not let him finish. ‘I do understand. I understand it about you and lots of others. I understood all the years I spent in the Department. But I’ve always believed that a good cop, even if he sometimes falls victim to a few small weaknesses, gives more than he takes in the long run. If his weaknesses are big ones, then he stops being a good cop and becomes a crook. That’s your problem, and a judge’s. But there’s something else that matters more.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I don’t give a damn any more, James. For reasons of my own, I want to see this through and then draw a line under it. And the fact that the victim is my nephew is only part of it. When it’s all over, I’ll finally be able to leave on a journey that should have started this morning.’
The waitress arrived, placed a glass of fizzy liquid on the table, and walked silently away. Burroni took a sip of the drink.
‘That’s my side of it,’ Jordan went on. ‘But you’ll be the detective who caught the man who killed the Mayor’s son. You’ll be a hero, a star. And you’ll be able to stop having to take kickbacks.’ He pointed to the sports paper Burroni had put down on the table. ‘What do you bet on? Horses or football?’
‘You’re a son of a bitch,
‘Just coming!’
She walked away, and Jordan was alone again with his thoughts.
Even leaving aside the personal aspect, it really
was
a nasty business. To be handled with care. And if he was right, the heat was only just starting. When he had closed the door of his brother’s office in Gracie Mansion, the post-mortem report had not yet arrived. He had preferred to leave Christopher to his feelings as a father and his duties as a Mayor. Jordan didn’t know which of the two roles at that moment was the worse.
He had called Burroni and arranged to meet him here. He had just finished his coffee when the detective appeared, framed in the window.
He was wearing the same suede jacket and round-brimmed black hat he had worn that morning. He came in and looked around. When he spotted Jordan, he came over to the table with that strange walk of his, the centre of gravity low, like a soccer player’s. He was holding a sports paper with a yellow folder sticking out of it.
Burroni came level with him and stood there. He looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else, with someone else.
‘Hello, Jordan.’
‘Sit down, James. What are you having?’
Jordan gestured to a passing waitress, who stopped to take the order.
‘A Schweppes. I’m on duty.’
Burroni collapsed onto the chair facing him and put the newspaper down on the table. The folder slipped out a little and Jordan glimpsed the letters
NYPD
on the front.
‘Let’s get things clear straight away, Marsalis.’
‘That’s all I ask.’
‘I guess you don’t like me, but that’s neither here nor there. The real problem is that I don’t like you. And I certainly don’t like this situation. I’m sorry about your nephew, but—’
Jordan lifted his hands. ‘Stop right there. I don’t know what you’ve been told and I don’t care. But I would like you to listen to what I have to say.’
Burroni took off his hat and put it on the empty chair next to him. He leaned back in his own chair, folded his arms, and waited. ‘All right, I’m listening.’
‘I don’t believe you’re particularly sorry about my nephew. You think he was a freak who met the end he deserved, someone the world won’t miss. That’s your problem and I don’t expect you to understand. But I think you’ll have to get used to the situation. We’re not getting married, James. But we have a job to do, and we have to do it together. We both have reasons for hoping it works out.’
Burroni put his elbows on the table and looked him in the eyes. ‘If you’re referring to this Internal Affairs business, you have to understand I—’
Jordan did not let him finish. ‘I do understand. I understand it about you and lots of others. I understood all the years I spent in the Department. But I’ve always believed that a good cop, even if he sometimes falls victim to a few small weaknesses, gives more than he takes in the long run. If his weaknesses are big ones, then he stops being a good cop and becomes a crook. That’s your problem, and a judge’s. But there’s something else that matters more.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I don’t give a damn any more, James. For reasons of my own, I want to see this through and then draw a line under it. And the fact that the victim is my nephew is only part of it. When it’s all over, I’ll finally be able to leave on a journey that should have started this morning.’
The waitress arrived, placed a glass of fizzy liquid on the table, and walked silently away. Burroni took a sip of the drink.
‘That’s my side of it,’ Jordan went on. ‘But you’ll be the detective who caught the man who killed the Mayor’s son. You’ll be a hero, a star. And you’ll be able to stop having to take kickbacks.’ He pointed to the sports paper Burroni had put down on the table. ‘What do you bet on? Horses or football?’
‘You’re a son of a bitch,
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