It wasn't that cold on the streets, but Strega's cheeks were flushed and glowing. "Hi!" she called out in a voice I hadn't heard before, holding out a gloved hand to me. I took it-she squeezed down hard.

"This is Scotty," she said, pulling a round-faced little blond boy close to her side. "And this is my Mia." She smiled. The little girl was wearing a black coat and scarf like her mother. Flaming red hair peeked out, a halo for a happy little face.

"What's your name?" she asked me.

"Burke," I told her.

"That's a funny name," she said, still smiling.

"So is Mia," I replied.

"It's a special name," the little girl said, a trace of a pout on her lips.

"It's a lovely name," said Immaculata, stepping forward.

"This is my friend, Immaculata," I told them all, spreading my hands to introduce her.

Immaculata gracefully dropped to her haunches, her eyes level with the children's faces.

"Hi, Scotty. Hi, Mia," she said to them, holding out her hands. Mia took her hand right away, babbling on like they were old friends. Scotty hung back. "It's okay," said Strega. He came slowly to Immaculata. "You smell good," he said.

Strega's eyes lashed at me. "This is your friend?"

"Immaculata is going to work with Scotty. Like we agreed," I said, nothing else in my voice.

Her big eyes never shifted. "I'm trusting you," she said.

I met her gaze. Our faces were a hundred miles above Immaculata and the children. "You got any time problems?"

"Just tell me where to meet you.

"How about right back here. About seven-thirty, eight o'clock?"

"Whatever you say.

I lit a cigarette while Strega patted Scotty on the head, telling him he was going with me and Immaculata and that she'd meet him later with Mia. They'd all go to McDonald's and then for ice cream.

"Okay, Zia Peppina," the boy said, holding Immaculata's hand. His eyes were still cloudy with worry but he was going to stand up.

"Say your name again," Mia asked Immaculata.

"It is Im-mac-u-lata," she said, "but my friends call me Mac."

"That's easier," said Mia.

"It is always easier to be friends," Mac told her gravely.

"I know," said the child.

It was time to go. "It was a pleasure to meet you," Strega said to Immaculata.

"And to meet you as well," Mac told her, bowing slightly. "You have a beautiful and charming daughter."

Strega's eyes lit up at this. She bowed back to Immaculata before she realized what she was doing. Mac had that effect on people.

"Let's go, Scotty!" Immaculata said, taking the boy's hand and starting across the street to the Lincoln.

"Are you Mommy's friend?" Mia asked me.

"What did your mother tell you?" I replied.

"She said you were."

"Does your mother ever lie to you?"

"Oh, no," said the child, her mouth rounded in an O of surprise.

"Then you know," I told her. I held out my hand to Strega again.

She smiled at me, trying to crush my fingers into Jell-O. "Bye-bye," she said, turning her back on me, Mia in tow.

I lit a cigarette, watching the two little girls in their black coats cross the street to their Mercedes. Then I started across myself.

74

WHEN I GOT to the Lincoln, Scotty was standing on the front seat looking at Max seated in the back. "Do it again!" he yelled, clapping his chubby little hands.

"Do what again?" I asked him, sliding behind the wheel.

"Max is a protector," Scotty said. "He's here to make me safe."

"That's right," I told him, watching Immaculata nod in approval.

"Max is the strongest man in the whole world!" Scotty practically shouted at me. "Do it again. Please!" he shouted at Max. I don't know what kind of father Max might be, but he sure as hell wouldn't get disturbed by the noise kids make.

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.