Shockwave by Andrew Vachss Page A

still alive. Curl up, like men do when they’re hit bad enough so they feel the pain but not bad enough to put them out. Always keep a dagger inside the top of your boots, both sides. If it’s only one man who approaches, and he bends down to admire his work, you strike! Right here,” the Irishman who would never again see his treasured homeland told me, tapping his groin to make sure I understood the target area.
    “Always aim there. No matter where you plant your spike, you’ve got a good chance at hitting an artery. And a shorter distance to reach, too.”
    “What if it’s more than one?”
    “Ah, it’s always the same move, lad. With more than one of them, it’s got little chance, but it’s better than none at all. Probablywon’t work, but it’ll make the bastards pull their triggers. That way, you die fast. That’s a damn sight better than the way they’d want to handle it.”
    “H ey, Mack,” the young guy said, making the words into a greeting. “Who’d you bring with you?”
    “A friend of mine. Dell.”
    “Dell what?”
    “Stop playing to the crowd, Timmy. I ever ask
you
your last name?”
    “I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”
    “You don’t like the way anyone looks at you.”
    “I got a responsibility—”
    “Me, too,” Mack said. He didn’t say anything more, but all kinds of kids started to come out into the open. He handed the redhead a full carton of smokes, leaving it up to him to dole them out, doing it the same way I would have with a tribal leader—giving him the best way to keep face.
    The redhead dropped the carton into the side pocket of his jacket, like dealing with the cigarettes was something he’d get around to. But, for now …
    “So. Your friend. Your friend ‘Dell.’ Why’s he here?”
    “He’s trying to get Homer out of jail.”
    “This guy’s a lawyer?”
    “No, he’s an astrologer.”
    “Okay …” the redhead said, thoughtfully, as if my appearance was starting to make sense to him. “What d’you want?” he said to me.
    “Just to ask some questions.”
    “What kind of questions?”
    “The kind of questions I ask. You don’t want to answerthem, don’t. But if you’re for real, if you want to help your friend, you will.”
    “Just me?”
    “Anyone who was around Homer when the cops took him.”
    “That was just about all of us. Homer started out with us that night, but after a while he took off. By the time he came back, it was real late, so most of us were asleep when the cops crashed in. But Homer, he was awake.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Heard him shouting. Even before they lit us up.”
    I gave him my full attention, as if I didn’t see other kids crowding closer and closer. If that bothered Mack, he didn’t show it. I don’t mean show it on his face—I was turned away from him. But his body didn’t shift, and his breathing didn’t change; I could even hear the whistle through his nose.
    “They’ve done that before, the cops?”
    “Oh, yeah,” the redhead said. “Anytime a tourist makes a complaint, they do their ‘Don’t be here when the sun comes up!’ thing. That’s just for show—they know we don’t mess with dope, and we don’t steal, either. Only thing different was, this time they took Homer.”
    “That was the first time they ever did that?”
    “Yeah, it was. They know the dude wasn’t wasted on anything—he’s just not right, you know what I mean?”
    “Yes. Is he the only one?”
    “The only guy who hears voices? Around here? You’ve got to be a stranger in town.”
    “I meant the only one you let hang with you.”
    “If they act right—no grabbing at the girls, no trying to snatch our stuff, none of that tough-guy crap—anyone’s welcome. But we’re not a branch of Goodwill, if you get what I’m saying.”
    “Sharing, that’s expected. Begging’s not allowed.”
    “On the nose. We’ll share with anyone, but not more thanonce. One time, they might just stumble over us. If