Scotty was waving an old iron horseshoe in one hand. Max reached over the seat and took it from him. The Mongol held one end in each hand, breathed deeply through his nose with a clean, whistling sound, and pulled the horseshoe apart until it was just a straight piece of metal. He bowed his head, handed it back to the child.
"See?" Scotty asked.
"That's amazing," I told him.
"Max could lift this whole car if he wanted to, couldn't you, Max?" he said.
Max pressed his fingertips together, shooting his biceps full of the blood. The muscles leaped in his arms, more than a match for the thin casing of skin around them. Max pulled his hands to his chest, as if he was rocking a baby. He smiled. Then he flexed a biceps in a body-builder's pose, a vain look on his face. He shook his head "no."
"What is he saying?" Scott asked Immaculata.
"He is saying that great strength is only for protecting people, not for showing off."
"Oh." The kid thought for a minute. "Then why did he bend the horseshoe?" Whatever else they had done to Scotty, they hadn't made him stupid.
"Remember I told you that Max would be your protector?" Immaculata said, and watched the boy's solemn nod. "Well, I had to show you that Max was a good protector. We are friends, you and me. But you shouldn't trust new friends until they prove they are telling you the truth. Isn't that right?"
"Yes…" he said, a sad look on his face.
"I know," Immaculata said, patting his shoulders. "You are safe now. We're going to make it all better. Okay?"
The boy nodded dubiously. Max put his huge, scarred hand on the boy's shoulder. Just letting it lay there. And Scotty smiled as we drove through the city to the place on Broadway where we'd make it all better.
75
SAFE WAS in the Village, not far from the courthouse. I found a parking spot a few doors down and we all got out together, Immaculata leading the way, holding Scotty's hand. A tall black man was seated at a desk just inside the double glass doors. He got to his feet when he saw Max and me come in behind Immaculata. "They're with me," she said, smiling. The black guy sat down again.
We walked up a long flight of stairs to what must have been a factory loft years ago. A huge room, maybe forty by a hundred feet. Gym mats in the corner. A bunch of little kids working out, practicing some form of karate, screaming their lungs out with every move. Even younger kids were playing in a sandbox at one end of the room. Some were doing finger painting. One little boy was knitting something. It seemed like hundreds of kids, all hyperactive. Sounded like a happy subway tunnel.
A young woman detached herself from one of the groups of kids and walked over to us. She was maybe five feet tall with short dark hair flying around her face as she came over. Another pretty Italian lady-the other side of Strega's coin.
"Boss lady," Immaculata whispered to me. "Lily."
"Hi, Mac," the woman said. "And you must be Scotty," she said to the boy, coming down on her haunches the way Immaculata had in front of the Family Court. "My name is Lily," she said, holding out both hands. Scotty took her hands, but his eyes were riveted to the other kids. "You can play with the other kids later," Lily said, reading his mind. "First we're going to go to a special playroom. You have a reservation." She made it like a big deal, and Scotty responded, feeling important.
She took Scotty by one hand. Immaculata took the other. On the way down the hall to the back office the two women lifted Scotty off his feet, swinging their arms. The kid giggled like he'd found heaven.
We turned into a small room stuffed full of kids' stuff-toy animals, a three-panel screen with puppies playing on its surface, dolls, coloring books. All the furniture was child-size.
"This is where you and Immaculata get to talk," Lily told Scotty.
"About the bad things?" he asked.
"If you want to, Scotty. We don't make you do anything you don't want to here, okay?"
He just nodded, subdued now.
"You go inside with Immaculata, and we'll all wait for you out here, okay?"
"Max too!" the boy said, tugging the Mongol forward.
Max picked the boy up by his belt and tossed him in the air. Scotty screamed in delight, never doubting for a minute that Max would catch him. Max caught the boy in his arms and carried him inside. Immaculata bowed to Lily and me and followed, closing the door behind her.
There was a long window in one wall. I could see the three of them inside. Scotty was sitting on Max's lap, Immaculata talking to him.
"One-way glass?'? I asked Lily.
"Yes," she said. "We have graduate students observing all the time."
"You videotape the interviews?"
"We don't have the facilities to conceal the cameras here. And many of our children are phobic for video. You understand?"
"Sure," I told her. Kids who had been stars in porno movies could freak out if they saw a camera.
The boy was drawing something, holding the picture up for Immaculata and Max to see every couple of seconds.
"My name is Burke," I told her.
"I know who you are," she said, mixed feelings running through her words.
"You have a problem with me?"
She gave it some thought, looking directly into my eyes. "Nonot a problem. In fact, a couple of our older girls said you pulled them off the streets. And McGowan says you're okay too."
"So?"
"Mr. Burke, when we work with children at SAFE we don't edit their disclosures."
I stood there, watching Scotty make word pictures with his hands for Max. Max's arms were folded on his chest, his eyes slitted in concentration. I was waiting for this woman to tell me what her beef was.
"You know a girl named Babette?"
I nodded. I was in a mess a few months ago and she ended up going off with McGowan. I guess she landed at SAFE. It was fucking sure she couldn't go back to the stepfather who paid me to find her.
"In group one day Babette told us how she happened to get free of her pimp," Lily said. "She said you shot the man."
"I thought he was reaching for a gun," I said lamely.
"Babette said your gun didn't make any noise," Lily told me, eyes level.
I didn't say anything. If I hadn't had the silencer, it might have been some uniformed cop coming to that hotel room instead of McGowan. Shooting a pimp should only be a petty misdemeanor anyway-like hunting without a license.
"Don't worry," she said. "Nobody's going to testify against you.
"I'm not worried," I told her. The Prof had visited the pimp in the hospital-given him the word.
"We don't allow guns at SAFE," Lily said, watching me.
"You want to search me," I grinned at her, opening my coat.
"No. I want your word."
"You got it."
We both turned back to the window. Scotty had his hands on his hips and was shouting something at Immaculata. Suddenly he struck out; his little fist pounded on her shoulder. Max didn't move.
"It's okay," Lily said. "It's probably a re-enactment."
I looked a question at her. "When the child relives the experience…some of them find it easier than talking about it at first. Or maybe he's already past it…maybe he told the secret.Some of our kids fly into a rage when the truth is out…they have so much anger."
"So why's he hitting on Immaculata?"
"We encourage them to do it. At first. Then they progress to the self-defense classes. It all has to come out-first the secrets, then the anger.
"The secret is what happened to them-what people did to them?"
"No. That's what they call the 'bad stuff' or the 'scary stuff' The secret is that the offender told them never to tell anybody about what happened. They usually make it so that if the child tells, something horrible will happen."