bear, I carried a comfy little.38. But for office use the.357 was an effective negotiating tool. I kept my eyes on Wu. I was listening so hard I felt tired. The radiator pinged in the corner and almost cost Wu his life. Still he didn't move. Still the kids crouched. Still I held steady on the end of his nose. Then Wu said something to the Vietnamese kids. Both of them put their guns away. I leaned back a little in my chair and kept the gun on Wu.
"Tell them to put the guns on the floor," I said.
Wu spoke to the boys. They answered.
"You will have to kill them, if you can, to get their guns away," Wu said.
The boys stared straight at me with their empty eyes. I was wrong. They had more than rage. They had face, and they wouldn't give it up. And I couldn't make them. I knew that. I could kill them. But I couldn't make them lose face.
"Maybe another time," I said.
"See you around."
Wu looked at me for another moment. Then without a word he dropped his burning cigarette on the floor and got up and left.
Without even glancing at me, the two kids went after him. They didn't look back. They didn't close the door.
I sat with my chair tilted back and the gun still in my hand. A thin blue will-o'-the-wisp trailed up from the still-burning cigarette. I stared through it, out the door, at the empty corridor.
After a while I got up and went around and stepped on the cigarette. I closed the door and went back to my desk and got the phone, and called Boston Police Headquarters. I asked for Homicide. When I got Homicide I asked for Lt. Quirk. He picked up his phone, still talking to someone, and held it while he finished the conversation.
"Fuck aTF.," he said to someone.
"They got their problems.
We got ours."
Then he spoke into the phone.
"Quirk."
"Hi," I said.
"This is the aTF. charitable fund…"
"I know who it is. What do you want?"
"You got a Chinatown guy?"
"Yeah."
"I need to talk with him."
"Okay. Name's Herman Leong. I'll have him call you.
"Thanks," I said. But Quirk had already hung up.
Mister Congenial.
CHAPTER 14
At ten in the morning, Hawk and I were drinking coffee at a too-small table, in front of a rain-streaked window, in a joint called the Happy Haddock Coffee Shop on Ocean Street near the theater. Handmade signs behind the counter advertised linguic.a with eggs, kale soup, and pork stew with clams.
"Think we should have some kale soup?" Hawk said.
"No," I said.
"Couple of all-natural donuts."
"Good choice," Hawk said.
He got up and went to the counter and returned with four plain donuts on a plate.
"Authentic crime-buster food," Hawk said.
The Happy Haddock was almost empty. There was a darkhaired kid on the counter with a ponytail and an insufficient moustache. He wore a stained apron and a pink tee shirt with Pixies World Tour printed on the front. An old woman in a shapeless dress and a bandana was scraping the grill with an inverted spatula. A couple of old men in plaid shirts and plastic baseball caps sat at the counter drinking coffee and smoking.
"Nobody shadowing the Greek," Hawk said. "
"Cept me."
"If there ever was," I said.
"You think he made it up?"
"No."
"You think he thought he was being followed and he wasn't?"
"No."
"You confused, don't know what to think?"
"Yeah."
Hawk nodded.
"Maybe there never was a shadow," he said.
"Or maybe the shadow laying low 'cause the murder stirred everybody up. Or maybe the shadow got wind of me. What I know is, if there was a shadow, he didn't spot me."
"I know."
"I'm getting bored," Hawk said.
"Yeah," I said.
"Forget it. There may be a shadow, but not while you're around."
Hawk broke off a smallish piece of his second donut and ate it and wiped his fingers carefully on the paper napkin.
"You got anything?" he said.
"Yeah," I said.
"But I don't know what it is."
Hawk ate another piece of donut and waited.
"Woman named Rikki Wu is on the theater board with Susan. I had lunch with her couple days' ago to talk about the
"Tell them to put the guns on the floor," I said.
Wu spoke to the boys. They answered.
"You will have to kill them, if you can, to get their guns away," Wu said.
The boys stared straight at me with their empty eyes. I was wrong. They had more than rage. They had face, and they wouldn't give it up. And I couldn't make them. I knew that. I could kill them. But I couldn't make them lose face.
"Maybe another time," I said.
"See you around."
Wu looked at me for another moment. Then without a word he dropped his burning cigarette on the floor and got up and left.
Without even glancing at me, the two kids went after him. They didn't look back. They didn't close the door.
I sat with my chair tilted back and the gun still in my hand. A thin blue will-o'-the-wisp trailed up from the still-burning cigarette. I stared through it, out the door, at the empty corridor.
After a while I got up and went around and stepped on the cigarette. I closed the door and went back to my desk and got the phone, and called Boston Police Headquarters. I asked for Homicide. When I got Homicide I asked for Lt. Quirk. He picked up his phone, still talking to someone, and held it while he finished the conversation.
"Fuck aTF.," he said to someone.
"They got their problems.
We got ours."
Then he spoke into the phone.
"Quirk."
"Hi," I said.
"This is the aTF. charitable fund…"
"I know who it is. What do you want?"
"You got a Chinatown guy?"
"Yeah."
"I need to talk with him."
"Okay. Name's Herman Leong. I'll have him call you.
"Thanks," I said. But Quirk had already hung up.
Mister Congenial.
CHAPTER 14
At ten in the morning, Hawk and I were drinking coffee at a too-small table, in front of a rain-streaked window, in a joint called the Happy Haddock Coffee Shop on Ocean Street near the theater. Handmade signs behind the counter advertised linguic.a with eggs, kale soup, and pork stew with clams.
"Think we should have some kale soup?" Hawk said.
"No," I said.
"Couple of all-natural donuts."
"Good choice," Hawk said.
He got up and went to the counter and returned with four plain donuts on a plate.
"Authentic crime-buster food," Hawk said.
The Happy Haddock was almost empty. There was a darkhaired kid on the counter with a ponytail and an insufficient moustache. He wore a stained apron and a pink tee shirt with Pixies World Tour printed on the front. An old woman in a shapeless dress and a bandana was scraping the grill with an inverted spatula. A couple of old men in plaid shirts and plastic baseball caps sat at the counter drinking coffee and smoking.
"Nobody shadowing the Greek," Hawk said. "
"Cept me."
"If there ever was," I said.
"You think he made it up?"
"No."
"You think he thought he was being followed and he wasn't?"
"No."
"You confused, don't know what to think?"
"Yeah."
Hawk nodded.
"Maybe there never was a shadow," he said.
"Or maybe the shadow laying low 'cause the murder stirred everybody up. Or maybe the shadow got wind of me. What I know is, if there was a shadow, he didn't spot me."
"I know."
"I'm getting bored," Hawk said.
"Yeah," I said.
"Forget it. There may be a shadow, but not while you're around."
Hawk broke off a smallish piece of his second donut and ate it and wiped his fingers carefully on the paper napkin.
"You got anything?" he said.
"Yeah," I said.
"But I don't know what it is."
Hawk ate another piece of donut and waited.
"Woman named Rikki Wu is on the theater board with Susan. I had lunch with her couple days' ago to talk about the
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