Robert B. Parker's Slow Burn (Spenser, #44)(58)

“I hope so, Johnny,” I said. “I also hope you trust your friends.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Two more firefighters got hurt the other night,” I said. “Three men dead from the church. Real firefighters can’t live with that. They’re all family. They’ll come find you.”

Donovan took a few steps backward. In the small, heated room, his stench was something awful. He spit on the ground and marched to the door, holding it open.

I took the subtle hint and left.





51


Two days later, as I forced out my twelfth bench press of two hundred and twenty-five pounds, Hawk entered my field of vision. He didn’t offer to spot my last rep. He simply loomed over me and said, “Got something for you.”

“Can’t you see I’m deep into my intense training?”

“Weights will be here,” he said. “This won’t wait.”

I followed Hawk out of the Harbor Health Club. Z was working with a heavy-set woman on a treadmill. Her mouth was working faster than her legs. Helpless, Z watched as we left.

In the parking lot facing the harbor, Hawk popped the trunk of his Jag. He reached inside and pulled back an Army blanket to expose a large black box.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

“It’s July.”

“This shit can’t be returned,” he said. “One of a kind.”

“Hard to get?” I said.

A couple of seagulls looped around the docks. Pleasure boats bobbed up and down in the morning chop. Hawk closed the trunk and leaned against the Jag. He smiled. The sun was very bright and his teeth gleamed.

“How’d you know where to find it?”

“One of DeMarco’s people owes me a favor,” he said.

“That’s mighty white of you,” I said.

Hawk grunted. I could see the edge of his .44 under a light, long canvas jacket. “Jackie gonna be a little mad,” he said. “Three folks try to get in my way.”

“Stefanakos?”

“Nah, man,” Hawk said. “I’m saving his ass for you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“We can sell tickets.”

“I’ll make popcorn.”

“Haw.”

Deep in the harbor, I spotted the USS Constitution making a rare journey out of port. The big white sails full of air, cutting through the mild chop with ease. Cannons boomed off Old Ironsides in some kind of ceremony. Even on shore, I could hear people clapping from the decks.

“Maybe we can borrow that cannon.”

“He coming for you and me no matter what,” Hawk said. “Things get tight and we just got to draw that line.”

I nodded. “Won’t the bad guys ever learn?”

The warm sea wind kicked up Hawk’s canvas coat, fluttering it off his jeans and boots. He wore black sunglasses and no expression. “You gonna drop with this Quirk?”

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Quirk finally retire?”

“Worse,” I said. “He got promoted.”

Hawk whistled low. “Damn shame.”

“And Belson’s got a new boss,” I said. “Woman named Glass.”

Hawk nodded. “Hmm,” he said. “She good-looking?”

“When she isn’t gritting her teeth. Got any idea what’s on this thing?” I said.

“Far as I know, this something you use to play Donkey Kong.”

“I’ll call Arson,” I said. “They have a tech guy named Cappelletti who can figure it out. He’s pretty sharp. Although I don’t think he likes me much.”

“That is sharp.”

I’d been working out for nearly an hour. The hot sun and breeze made quick work of drying my sweaty T-shirt. After I switched the box to my trunk, I’d get changed and make some calls.

“Jackie DeMarco’s crew will be coming.”

“Bring it,” Hawk said. “I got no trouble with it.”

I smiled. “So now should we return Jackie’s money?”

“Don’t those firefighters have kids?”

I nodded. Hawk grinned wide.

“Well,” he said. “Okay, then.”





52


Where the hell did you get this?” Cappelletti said.

“A little bird brought it.”

“We need to know,” Cappelletti said. “Sometimes judges and defense attorneys ask questions like that. Evidence can’t just wash ashore.”

He stood like a banty rooster. He again had his sunglasses worn over his ball-cap visor. As he eyed me, he chomped on some gum.

“Fine,” I said. “It was a big bird.”

“Jesus,” Cappelletti said. He hoisted his thumb my way. “You believe this guy?”

“You know what they say about gift horses,” I said.

Captain Cahill and I exchanged glances. He rubbed Galway’s head and watched me with deadpan eyes. It had been three days since Hawk had liberated the camera server and I’d handed it over. They’d been going through it hours upon hours ever since. Got to hand it to Arson, they had some true patience.

“I take it you found something of interest?” I said.