The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

Pulaski smiled. "Keep it, man. I'm just asking, can you check around? See if you can find this new shit for me. Or, at least, who this Oden guy is, where I can get some Catch from him."

"Dunno, brother."

A nod at Alpho's pocket. "Bigger tip next time, you point me the right way. I mean bigger. M and half. Maybe more, it's righteous information."

Then the skinny man gripped Pulaski's forearm. Leaned close, radiating the smell of tobacco, sweat, garlic, coffee. "You ain't no fuckin' cop?"

Looking him back in the eyes, Pulaski said, "No. I'm a guy gets headaches so bad I can't get it up sometimes, and who lies in the bathroom and pukes for hours. That's what I am. Talk to Eddie. He'll tell you."

Alpho looked once more at the scar on Pulaski's forehead. "I'ma call you, brother. Digits?"

Pulaski punched in Alpho's number, and the gangbanger reciprocated.

Burner phone to burner. The age of trust.

Then Pulaski turned and, head down, walked back in the direction of the Broadway Junction transit complex.

Thinking it was pretty funny that he could very well have said to Alphonse Gravita that yeah, I am a cop, but it doesn't matter because this isn't an undercover operation at all. Not a soul in the NYPD--or in the world--knows about it. That wasn't buy money I just handed over but my own, which Jenny and I can't afford to give away.

But sometimes when you're desperate, you do desperate things.

CHAPTER 10

Not good. Not good at all.

She's ruined it. Red, the cop, the Shopper.

She's taken it away from me. My wonderful White Castle. Stolen it.

And she's walking here and there in Astoria, looking for clues--to me.

A little luck here, just like in the mall--when she was right next to the deadly escalator. Here I was fortunate too, spotting her first, a half block away from White Castle.

Red, walking inside, like a hunter.

My White Castle...

Two minutes later--if I hadn't seen her--and I'd've pushed in, hungry, mouthwatering. Tasting burger and shake. Then eye-to-eye with Red. She could draw her gun faster than I could get my bone cracker out of my backpack, or my razor saw.

Luck saved me again.

Did her luck get her here?

No, no, no. I was careless. That's it.

I am furious.

Remembering, yes: I threw away trash when the Shoppers came after me in the mall. I dumped the Starbucks litter nowhere near Starbucks but somehow they must've found it. And that means they found the other things I'd thrown out too. In the trash bin of that Mexican place behind the mall. I thought the help would grow blind and mute, or get shipped back to Juarez. It didn't occur to me that Red would stoop to garbage. She'd have nabbed a White Castle napkin or receipt. Fingerprints? I'm pretty careful. When I'm in public I try to use far ends of fingers (the top quarter of tips are pretty useless for prints, oh, I know my stuff) or I dunk napkins in soda or coffee, turn them to mush.

But I didn't think that time.

Speaking of hands: My palms're nice and sweaty now, fingers--my long, long fingers--shaking a little. I'm mad at myself but mad at her mostly. Red... Taking my White Castle away, making me finish up too fast with Alicia.

Now, watching her at some distance, I see her move sveltely down the street. Into and out of stores. I know what she's done: asked a server at White Castle or all the servers and customers too, Hey, did you see the bean boy? The praying mantis? Long John, Slim Jim? Oh, sure we did. Funny, funny looking. Hard to miss.

Now, the good news is that she won't find my favorite store where I often go before or after my burgers, not on this street, not nearby. It's a subway stop away. Still, there are other connections she might make.

Have to take care of this.