“All for a donut,” Hawk said.

“A dozen,” I said.

“Softhearted.” Hawk nodded.

Hawk started the Jag and wheeled around. I told him to wait and reached for the handle to go after Mattie. “Give me a minute.”

A white van whipped around the corner and blocked our way. I heard a car behind us. I turned and saw a black SUV zip up within an inch of Hawk’s bumper. Hawk jumped out of the car, pulling his .44 Magnum. I followed, drawing the .40-caliber. Everything came in the slow whir of a kaleidoscope. Three men from the van had weapons aimed at me. Two of the men were the guys who chased me into the T station. A heavyset Hispanic in an Army coat and a skinny Anglo with thinning hair and stubbled beard.

The third man was Jack Flynn.

I could take out Flynn. But also Flynn could take me out. Therein lies the rub.

Even if he only winged me, his duo of flunkies were probably decent enough shots at ten feet.

Hawk stood tall in my peripheral vision. He faced worse odds with four boys from the SUV. The ambush was a good one, and the only way out was bloody and ugly. Two men carried Mattie down a slushy path. She was kicking, punching, clawing at their faces. One man’s cheek was bleeding. She was screaming. Wind rustled Flynn’s camel-hair coat as he gripped a .45 automatic. His ruddy Irish face glowed with the cold, his eyes full of heat. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word from that Donovan girl,” he said.

I kept the .40-caliber aimed right for his well-sized Irish head.

He smiled at me as if he felt sorry for me. “Give me one reason I don’t kill you both right now.”

“Because we have such a swell history together,” I said.

“Put down your gun, asshole.”

“I’d rather not,” I said. “No offense. If I’m unarmed, you’ll probably shoot me.”

“You don’t lay down your gun, and we’ll shoot the girl.”

I didn’t like him. But he offered some solid logic.

I did not take my eyes off Flynn as I squatted to the ground and laid my beautiful new Smith & Wesson .40-caliber in the crisp but dirty snow. I stood slowly, hands raised.

We all heard Mattie scream. One of the hoods from the SUV struck her, and you could hear the slap across her face like a rifle shot.

Hawk made a guttural sound. He could not stand it.

Hawk fired his .44. Two men fired their shotguns.

Hawk was knocked two feet back as if sucker-punched by an enormous fist.

I went for my gun.

The men who’d shot Hawk dragged one of their own inside the black SUV and disappeared. Flynn and his boys jumped inside the van as I squeezed off six shots, knocking out its back windows.

I heard sirens.

54

How is he?” Susan asked.

“Stable,” I said.

“You said you saw him shot in the chest,” she said. “You said he was blown off his feet.”

“I rode with him in the ambulance,” I said. “His wounds were not as bad as they first appeared.”

Susan let out a very long breath. We stood in a hallway on the third floor of City Hospital. Everything smelled of harsh cleaners and bad food. There was a buzz of activity at the nurses’ station. I bet the nurses were buzzing about Hawk.

“He was wearing a vest,” I said. “Told me he didn’t trust folks in Southie.”

Susan let out a little more breath. The tension in her neck and shoulders slackened. “Good to be a little racist.”

“I called it being an elitist.”

“What did Hawk say?”

“He said he was just being one smart motherfucker.”

She squeezed my hand for a moment before we walked to the waiting room. We found a place to sit among a lot of crinkled magazines with health and diet tips. Last weekend’s edition of the Globe, sans Arlo & Janis. It didn’t matter. I didn’t much feel like heavy reading.

Susan held my hand as we spoke. I felt very hollow.

“Thank God,” Susan said.

“If the Ukrainians can’t take Hawk out,” I said, “nobody can take him out.”

She put her arm around me and pulled me in close.

“And Mattie?”

I was quiet. I shook my head.

“Quirk and Belson know everything,” I said. “All of the Boston PD and the staties are looking for her and Flynn.”

“Why didn’t Flynn shoot you?” Susan asked.

It was a good question.

“He had the drop,” I said. “He could have. But he needs Theresa Donovan. And to get to Theresa Donovan, he needs me.”

“The witness.”

“She kinda holds the cards for Jack Flynn.”

“Is she safe?”

“Quirk has her in protective custody,” I said. “Which is slightly less accessible than Fort Knox.”

“Let me get this straight,” Susan said. “Flynn kidnaps the daughter of the woman he murdered to stay out of jail? Seems like he’s just adding more to his sentence.”

“Without Theresa, they can’t reopen the case,” I said. “And snatching Mattie is also a way to get back at me.”

“A warped issue of respect?”

I nodded.

“And rage.”

“And whatever business plans he has with Gerry Broz,” I said. “Me asking questions and working with the cops is screwing up the rebuilding of the Broz dynasty. That pisses him off a great deal.”

“Territory,” she said. “How are men different than dogs?”

“I like dogs more.”

“How many men came for Mattie?”

“Counting Flynn?” I looked up at the ceiling. “Seven. Altogether, not really great odds.”

Susan tilted her head and leaned into my shoulder. After several minutes, she sat up and wiped her eyes. “You both could have been killed.”

“Part of the package.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like the package.”

“I’m not always thrilled by my work conditions.”

“But if you die, you die,” she said. “I am the one who’s left.”

“You would manage,” I said. “Pearl would mourn.”

“It’s not funny, goddamn it,” she said. “Belson came for me. My heart stopped. I opened the front door, saw Frank, and my heart stopped.”

“Frank is thoughtful.”

“Damn you.”

“I’ve been doing this my whole adult life, Suze.”

“Why couldn’t I have met a nice Jewish doctor?”

“Because I’m the thug of your dreams,” I said. “Besides, could a nice Jewish doctor try that thing we tried the other night?”

She laughed just a bit. Susan studied me and then shook her head.

“Can we see him?” she asked.

“Maybe we smuggle a couple of bottles of Iron Horse into the emergency ward to revive him.”

“You two will go for Flynn?’

I shrugged. “Yes.”

“What in the hell do you both have to prove?”

“Mattie is fourteen,” I said. “She hired me. She trusts me. This is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I looked down at the floor. She put a hand to my back, rubbing in strong circles.

“I won’t stay,” she said. “This is between you and Hawk. But when you get through this, you will take a break for a while. Even if I have to shoot you myself.”

I smiled.

Susan did not smile back.

“Are all Harvard-educated Jewesses so tough?”

“You bet your ass.”

55

Hawk and I met Vinnie at the ball fields off Commercial Street in the North End. Since Vinnie was Vinnie, the North End was a pretty convenient spot for him. The infields were covered in dunes of shifting snow. You couldn’t really tell there were baseball fields right now except for the night lights sticking up by a half-hidden chain-link fence. Hawk and I followed the path around the seawall and found Vinnie alone, drinking from a foam coffee cup.

“Christ,” he said. “Couldn’t we’ve met somewheres indoors? I’m freezing my nuts off.”

“Hawk’s been shot.”

“You look okay to me,” Vinnie said.