"Sure," Hawk said.

We were nearly through our beer when Tony Marcus came down the hall with his bodyguard. Some people think a huge bodyguard will discourage people. Tony's would have discouraged the Marine Corps. He barely fit through the hallway.

"That's Junior," Hawk said. "He got his own zip code."

"Junior," I said.

Hawk shrugged.

Tony didn't speak to Hawk. He looked past him at me.

"Figured it was you," he said.

The group in the front booth had turned in their seats, and Ty-Bop had stepped out of the booth and was standing beside it. He had an earring. His longish hair was pomaded and slicked back against his skull. He was never quite still as he stood there, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to another, rocking back and forth a little on his heels, drumming with his finger against his thighs.

"How ya doing?" I said.

"You both got some f.u.c.king b.a.l.l.s," Tony said. "Coming in here."

"b.a.l.l.s are us," I said. "We need a favor."

"A favor? A f.u.c.king favor?"

Hawk was looking at the bodyguard. His face had a look of benign amus.e.m.e.nt.

"What you feed him, Tony? Hay?"

If the bodyguard heard Hawk, he registered nothing. Probably too busy looming. A corner of Tony's mouth moved as if he were tempted to smile. His hair was grayer than it had been when I first knew him and his neck looked softer and his jawline was a little more blurred. But he was still a handsome man, expensive-looking, and very neat in his person.

"You sent me up," Tony said.

"Shoulda been life," Hawk said. "And you out in three years."

"I ain't some f.u.c.king street thug," Tony said. "What you want?"

"You know Haskell Wechsler?" I said.

"That p.r.i.c.k?"

"That one," I said. "You owe him anything."

"I owe him a kick in the a.s.s, I ever get the chance," Tony said.

"Here's your chance," I said.

"I'm waiting," Tony said.

"We want to take Haskell down," I said. "We do and it leaves all his loansharking business up for grabs. Broz is too old now to care about expanding. Fast Fddie only does Asians. Leaves you and Gino."

"And the Italians," Tony said. "And the Irish guys."

"You'll know ahead of time he's going," I said. "Gives you an edge."

"Whaddya want from me?"

"Haskell's always got a lot of shooters around him."

"'Course he does," Tony said. "Everybody knows him wants to kick his nasty a.s.s."

"We need to get Haskell alone, and the only time we can think of," Hawk said, "is when he's getting laid."

"You think Haskell can get laid?"

"We figure he pays for it," I said.

"'Course he does," Tony said. "Who would f.u.c.k him but a wh.o.r.e?"

"So you run the wh.o.r.e business in town."

"Yeah?"

"If he was to employ a wh.o.r.e," I said, "and she was to let us know where and when, and bow out, we could go talk to Haskell."

"That's the favor?"

"Uh huh."

"And when he goes down, you let me know, first. 'Fore it happens."

"Uh huh."

Tony smiled gently to himself. I could tell he liked it.

"I'm going to be thinking about it," he said.

He turned and squeezed past his bodyguard and walked back down the hall. The bodyguard followed, completely screening Tony from view. Hawk and I watched him go for a moment and then went toward the front door. The skinny shooter held his ground as we came to the door.

"'Shappenin', Ty-Bop?" Hawk said Ty-Bop was no more than twenty. He had light skin and small, nearly oval, black eyes. The eyes were depthless, like a snake's. He put his left fist out and Hawk b.u.mped it with his left. Ty-Bop stepped aside and we went out into the South End.

"Good you know the language," I said to Hawk.

"Surely is," he said. "Got to take special care with the children."

We were driving up Tremont Street, past Bay Village, toward Charles Street.

"What do you think Ty-Bop's life expectancy is?" I said.

"If he don't mess with me? Tony will use him up in maybe five years."

"And I suspect he knows that," I said.

"I imagine he do," Hawk said. "Right now he gets respect."

"Because he's willing to shoot anybody at all."

"Ty-Bop ain't got much other way to get respect," Hawk said.

"I know."

We drove through Park Square and stopped for the light at Boylston. The Common sloped up to our right. The Public Garden lay flat to our left.

"Kids like Ty-Bop bother you?" I said.

"Yeah."

"Me too," I said. "You got any idea what to do about them?"

"No."

"Me either."

chapter forty.

HAWK CAME INTO my office on Wednesday morning with a young Asian woman.

"This is Velvet," Hawk said. "Tony arranged for us to talk with her."

"See," I said, "another triumph for charm and civility."

"Tony says you take Haskell out he knows ahead of everyone."

"Sure," I said. "h.e.l.lo, Velvet."

"h.e.l.lo."

Velvet looked maybe eighteen. She was wearing faded blue jeans and a loose white tee-shirt. Her only makeup appeared to be lipstick. She stood quietly in front of my desk.

"Sit down, Velvet," I said.

She sat.

"Would like coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please. Two sugar."

Hawk got her some from the Mr. Coffee pot. Then he sat beside her.

"Haskell got a regular contract with Velvet," Hawk said.

"Is Velvet your real name?" I said.

"No."

"What is your real name?"

"Kim Pak Soong."

"You're Korean."

"Yes."

"You're a prost.i.tute?" I said to Velvet.

"Yes."

"Do you know who Tony Marcus is?"

"No."

I smiled. She was at the far other end of the chain of command.

"But you know Haskell Wechsler."

"Haskell. Yes."

"You have regular appointments with him."

"Yes."

"Tell me about them."

"I would not tell anyone these things, but Clifton says I must."

"Clifton's your pimp?"

"Yes."

"Where do you meet Haskell?" I said.