"Pizza," I told her, under my breath.
Mama charged into the argument, adding her own voice to the din. Finally, she pointed to one of the cooks.
" Germany?" she asked me.
"No," I said.
She pointed to another.
" England?"
I said "No" again, watching their faces.
" China?" she asked, pointing to a young man in the corner.
"No," I told her again. "The dog is from Italy."
A smile broke out on Mama's face. She made me say it again, so everyone in the room would get the benefit of her wisdom. Everybody bowed to her. I didn't see money change hands, but I figured their pay envelopes would be a little short that week.
Pansy snarled her way down the steps to the basement, threatening the darkness. Mama switched on the lights-the place was filled floor-to-ceiling with boxes, some wood, some cardboard. Drums of rice stood to one side. There was still another basement below this one-I remember one time when the cops were looking for Max and they thought he was down there. They waited two days to find me to ask him to come out quietly.
"Puppy want food, Burke?"
"Sure, Mama. Whatever you think is best."
She bowed. "I come back soon," she said, and went back up the stairs. More screaming and yelling in Chinese erupted-I think the cooks wanted a rematch. She came back down with a volunteer helper; he was carrying one of those giant stainless-steel pots they use to keep the rice freshly steamed all day long. He put it on the floor, watching Pansy warily.
"This puppy good guard dog, Burke?" she asked.
"She's the best, Mama."
"Shethis girl puppy?"
"Women the best warriors," Mama said, then translated it for the cook, who nodded dubiously. "Puppy guard down here?"
"If you want her to," I said. "Watch-and tell your man to keep his hands in sight, okay?"
She nodded. I slapped my side for Pansy to follow me, walking her so her back was in a corner formed by some of the stacked cartons. I took down a few cartons to make a little wall in front of her, about as high as her chest. Her face loomed above the barrier, watching. I knew just what trick Mama would love. "Pansy!" I said, my voice sharp to get her attention. "Friends!" I motioned Mama forward. "Go ahead and pat her," I said.
Mama hadn't gotten where she was by showing fear. She walked right up to Pansy, patting her head, saying "Good puppy!" a few times. Pansy stood still, her eyes on the cook.
"Okay, now step back, Mama." When she did, I got Pansy's attention again. "Guard!" I told her.
"Tell your man to approach like he's going to pat her too, Mama. But tell him not to reach over the barrier, you got it?"
She said something to the cook. His face stayed flat, but you didn't need a translator to see he was suspicious as hell. The poor bastard had gotten about five feet from the barrier when Pansy lunged at him, a blood-chilling snarl flowing between her teeth. He leaped back about twenty feet-the snap of Pansy's jaws was like a thick branch breaking.
"Pansy, out!" I yelled at her. She sat back down, her head swiveling to watch the entire room.
Mama clapped her hands. "Good trick, Burke!" she said. The cook went back upstairs. I rolled the pot of steaming food over to Pansy. "What's in this?" I asked her.
Mama looked insulted. "Beef, pork, lobster, shrimp, good vegetables, plenty rice. All best stuff."
"She'll love it," I assured Mama.
"How come she not eat, then?"
"She'll only eat when she's alone with me, Mama. Let me get her started and I'll come up and make those calls, okay?"
"Okay, Burke," she said.
I waited a minute or two before saying "Speak!" to my dog. A good survivor never shares all his secrets.
85
THE FIRST call was to SAFE. Lily was in a session-they asked if I could leave a number. I told them I couldn't and got a time to call back. They didn't seem surprised.
I got lucky with McGowan-he was in his office for a change.
"You know my voice?" I asked him.
"Sure do, pal." McGowan had a magnificent Irish baritone-he used it for sweet-talking little girls away from their pimps.
"I need a favor. You know Wolfe, the D.A. in charge of City-Wide?"
"Pal, that woman is aces with me, understand? Cases the other prosecutors won't touch-she grabs ' em up. You better not be having a problem with her."
"No problem. I just want you to put in a good word for me, okay? I need to talk with her-I figure she might do it if she knew I was all right."
"My friend, you are not all right if you're looking to sting that woman.
"McGowan, come on. You know what I do-it's part of that, okay?"
"What part?"
I took a breath, thinking it through. McGowan knew his phones could be tapped-he had every honest cop's fear of Internal Affairs.
"Look, all I want is for you to tell her I play the game straight. I'll tell her what I need-she can make up her own mind."
Another silence on the line. Finally his voice came back. "You got it," he said.
I started to ask him to do it tomorrow, but I was talking to a dead line.
Strega answered her phone on the first ring. "I was waiting for you," she said, her voice soft.
"How could you know it was me calling?"
"I know," she said. "I told you before-I always know."
"There's been some progress.
"Tell me," she said, her voice going throaty, playing with the words, stroking them.
"Not on the phone," I said.
"I know what you want-come to my house-come tonight-late, after midnight-come tonight-I'll have what you want."
"I just wantand I was talking into another dead line.
I went back inside the restaurant, killing some time until Lily would be available. One of the waiters brought me some soup and a plate of fried rice and beef, green pea pods lancing through the mixture. Mama walked by, smiling. She tossed the News on the table in front of me. I scanned the headlines. Half of Queens County was getting indicted. Politicians were grabbing their lawyers in one hand and their guts in the other and dashing to the courthouse, offering everyone they knew in exchange for immunity from the deals they'd done together. That's why they call it the rat race.
The sports pages read like the front pages-one role model was using cocaine, another was going into an alcoholism rehab program. Another claimed he threw a prize fight.
But on the racing page I saw my horse again. Flower Jewel, running in the eighth race against the same collection she had faced last week. I checked my watch-not even nine-thirty yet.
Maurice didn't answer until the sixth ring-probably a lot of late action coming in.
"It's Burke," I told him.
"No kidding?" he said. Maurice didn't have the manners of a pig, but he was taking lessons and hoped to be right up there soon.
"The eighth closed yet?"
"Not until ten-where've you been, fucking Idaho?"
"Flower Jewel," I told him. "Three to win."
"Flower Jewel, eighth race. Three to win. That right?"
"Right," I said.
"Send your man around tomorrow with the money," Maurice said, slamming down the phone.
I went back to my dinner, wondering if even Pansy could eat all the food Mama had left down in the basement for her.
I lit a cigarette as the dishes were cleared away. Flood's face drifted up from nowhere, floating in the smoke-I ground it out in the ashtray, but it didn't help.
Lily herself answered when I called SAFE.
"It's Burke," I told her. "Did you speak with Wolfe?"
"Yes, I did."
"And?"
"And she gave me a number for you to call-anytime between eight and nine in the morning."