Bane’s hand found Davey’s shoulder again, stayed there. “They’ll still be watching your house. It’s not safe,” he repeated.
“When will it be safe?”
Before Bane could manage an answer, the doorbell rang. He had the Browning out before he was halfway over.
“Who’s there?” he asked, back pressed against the adjacent wall, out of range of a shotgun blast from the outside.
“Santa Claus,” snapped the voice of Harry the Bat, “but I couldn’t wheel this goddamn thing down the chimney.”
Bane unchained the door and swung it open. The Bat wheeled himself in.
“Don’t bother to thank me for coming over here at three in the morning. After all, what are friends for?”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
“I won’t ask you if it’s important because it better be.”
“And then some.”
“Lord fuck a duck, Winter Man, I never realized how much I missed your company,” Harry said, voice laced with sarcasm. There was a shuffling noise from the den of the apartment and he swung toward it. “Well Lord fuck a — er — sorry …”
“Davey,” Bane announced, “I want you to meet Harry Bannister, the Bat to his friends.”
“And some of my enemies. Nice to meet ya, kid. Excuse the language.” Then, to Bane, “Is that the kid you—”
“That’s the kid and I don’t think you have to worry much about your language around him after what he’s been through.”
“Lord fu — er — frig a duck, Josh, he does look a bit like Peter. I see sure in hell what you meant. Well, him being here means you must’ve had a successful hunt tonight.”
“I’ll fill you in on everything later. Right now I’ve gotta get the kid stashed somewhere safe.”
“The King’s?”
“The King’s.” Bane’s eyes shifted toward the bedroom where the television was still whispering. “Janie’s not going to be too pleased when she wakes up and finds you here….”
“Terrific …”
“So go easy, Harry. Just be your regular charming self.”
“I left him back in bed at my place, Josh.”
Bane smiled, though he didn’t feel much like it. “You’re carrying I assume.”
“A fuckin’ …” Then, with an eye on Davey, “… I mean a friggin’ arsenal. I figured the elevator might not make it up ’cause I’m packed so tight.”
“Watch the door, Harry,” Bane said, motioning Davey toward him.
“Anything that comes through there, Winter Man, better be ready to spend the rest of its life in a thousand pieces.”
“This your car?” Davey asked when they were inside a Cutlass parked in the garage beneath the building.
“No, it’s Janie’s. They’ll be watching for mine.”
Davey looked down, a habit apparently. “Oh.” His eyes came back up again. “She your girl?”
“She used to be. Right now, I’m not quite sure.”
“Is that ’cause you brought me to her place?”
“It’s because of a lot of things.”
Bane pulled the Cutlass onto the street, careful to watch for sudden movement in the area.
“So where we going?” Davey asked.
“To get you a baby-sitter.”
“What?”
Bane’s eyes rotated between the road and the rear-view mirror. “Not some old lady who passes the time away with knitting needles,” he assured jokingly. “This guy happens to stand about seven feet tall and bends steel bars for fun.”
“Who is he?”
“His name’s King Cong.”
“Come on.”
“You’ll see.”
“Hey, we’re in Harlem,” Davey realized as they drew near the gym.
“The King’s home turf,” Bane explained. “He doesn’t leave it much and most people with brains stay clear.”
“I thought you had brains, Josh.”
“I’m different.” Bane’s eyes checked the rearview mirror yet again. “How many of the men after you were black?”
“None that I saw.”
“That’s the point. The King doesn’t take a fancy to most white folks and around these parts they’ll stick out long before they get a chance to use their guns.”
“Right on, brother,” Davey quipped, flashing his smile.
The King was waiting for them at the door to his gym.
“You keep funny hours, Josh boy,” he greeted, locking it behind them. He looked bigger and more menacing than ever. Bane noticed a pistol the size of a cannon tucked into his belt.
“Sorry if I woke you up, King.”
“No sweat, Josh boy, the King don’t ever sleep at night. Too many better things to do.” The King paused and checked Bane over, stopping at the eyes and holding onto them, nodding with apparent satisfaction at what he saw. “You’s a different man, Josh boy, than you was the last time I saw ya.”
“Two days can make a big difference, King, a world of difference.”
“Yeah.” Conglon grinned. “Winter’s stayin’ late this year.” His huge eyes focused on Davey who felt his knees buckle from the stare. “Don’t pay me no fear, boy. I’m a lot meaner than I seem.”
Davey just looked at him.
“He’s all yours, King,” Bane said.
“I ain’t never been much at baby-sittin’.”
“Keeping him safe and sound will more than suffice.”
King Cong took a menacing step forward. “Treat me nice for the next decade or so, Josh boy, and I just might forget you said that. When the King says he’ll do ya a favor, you can bet your white prick it’ll get done right. I got ten guys on call already. Your boy here won’t take a step without one of ’em on either side every fuckin’ minute.”
“You trust them?”
“I trained ’em, you mother.”
“That’s all I wanted to know.”
Bane started back for the door, turned, and held Davey’s shoulder briefly. “I’ll be back for you when it’s safe.” Then, with his eyes on the King, “You’re in good hands, the best.” He squeezed Davey’s shoulder one last time and moved for the door again.
King Cong sensed the boy’s fear and uneasiness, so he thought fast and yanked the pistol cannon from his belt.
“Ever shoot a gun, boy?”
Davey looked at him with awe. “No. I mean, not really.”
“Well, next couple days should be as good a time as any to learn. Here, heft this.” The King handed his magnum over and its weight sunk Davey’s hands past his belt. The boy looked at it mesmerized. “Might even get in a little boxin’, and I’ll teach ya a thing or two ’bout weights,” the King continued but Davey’s attention stayed locked on the gun.
“Thanks, King,” Bane said gratefully from the door.
“A pleasure, Josh boy. I ain’t even come close to evenin’ up our debt chart.”
“This makes it paid in full.”
Bane was halfway out when the King’s voice made him turn.
“Know somethin’, Josh boy? I got me a funny feelin’ that if I had tried to play the Game on ya in the street tonight, you just mighta won.”
The Fourth Day:
Project Placebo
Chapter Sixteen
“Round up the usual suspects.”
Claude Rains finished speaking, his eyes still on Humphrey Bogart, in the climax of Casablanca when Bunker 17’s emergency alarm began to screech.
“Goddammit,” moaned a private seated in the middle of the darkened room. “You’d think the big bastard could at least wait till the movie was over.”
“I’ll let you in on what happens from this point on, boy,” drawled a heavy voice from just behind him. “Now get to your station ‘fore I plant your ass in the ground and grow shit stalks.”