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9

    "You want somebody killed," Hawk said, "you gotta give me the whole dollar."
    "I like a man with standards," I said.
    We were walking on Washington Street toward Boylston. As we moved along people got out of the way, spilling to each side of Hawk the way water surges past the prow of a cruiser. No one mistook him for a cop. The night was pleasant, not very cold, and the streets in the Combat Zone were crowded. "Who this pimp I supposed to keep off your back?" Hawk said.
    "Name's Trumps," I said. "Black, middle-sized, long arms, drives a white Jag sedan. Looks like he works out. You know him?"
    Hawk stopped and looked at me. "Trumps," he said. "I wish I see you take that sap away." He smiled, and his face looked joyful.
    "Bad?" I said.
    "Oh, yeah-he bad, all right. He almost as bad as he think he is."
    "Bad as you?" I said.
    Hawk's face looked even more cheerful, the glistening smile even wider. "Course not," he said. "Nobody as bad as me. Except maybe you, and you too softhearted."
    We moved on again. Hawk paid no attention to the merchandise. He looked at the people.
    "Trumps operate independently," I said, "or is he part of a chain?"
    "Chain," Hawk said. "Works for Tony Marcus."
    "The regent of Roxbury," I said.
    Hawks shrugged.
    "You know Tony?" I said.
    "Sure," Hawk said. "Done a little work for him here and there." He grinned. "Security and enforcement division. He pay better than you."
    "Yeah, but does he have a nice personality?"
    Ahead of us, at the corner of Boylston and Washington, was a bar with a large flashing sign that said, THE SLIPPER. The sign was made up of individual white light bulbs, and they flickered on and off in a random sequence and gave the effect of strobe lighting in a disco.
    Hawk said, "Now we're not looking for Trumps around here, right?"
    "Right, we're looking for a white guy named Red. Or the kid in the picture, or both. Our only interest in Trumps is to keep him from blowing me up," I said.
    We went into the club. It was crowded and dark and loud. Behind the bar three naked young women danced in a pink light. Danced is probably too strong. I'd been to see Paul Giacomin in a couple of jazz dance recitals and my dance aesthetics were becoming polished. Some of the customers were watching closely; others paid no attention at all. Hawk and I pushed among the crowd looking for Red. A bar girl asked us to buy her a drink. I said no. She started to argue, and Hawk looked at her and she stopped and went away. It took maybe another minute before one of the bouncers picked up that we weren't here for the nudies or the booze. He eased over to us.
    "You fellas looking for something?" he said, sort of politely. He was a bulky kid, probably a football player from Northeastern or B.C., wearing a white turtleneck sweater and a maroon sports jacket. Hawk looked faintly amused. "Guy named Red," I said. "Somebody told me he hung out here."
    The kid gestured at the room, dense with people and noise. "Lots of people hang out here."
    "Red's a pimp," I said.
    The kid made a spread-hands gesture, palms up. "You looking for broads?"
    "We from the Chamber of Commerce," Hawk said. "We here to give Red a Junior Achievement award."
    The kid stared at Hawk. Hawk smiled at him.
    "Any minimum here?" I said.
    "Ten bucks," the kid said.
    I gave him a twenty. He folded it in half and then half again and put it in the breast of his maroon blazer. He made a little traffic-stopping gesture about waist high with his left hand. "No trouble," he said.
    "None at all," I said.
    At the bar nearby a man wearing horn-rimmed glasses yelled at one of the dancing girls, "Can you pick up a quarter with that thing?"
    "No," she said. "Can you with yours?"
    "Maybe not," the man yelled, "but I can bat 'em around a little." He laughed and looked around the bar. The bouncer nodded at us and moved toward him. I looked at the girl dancing. Her face was blank as she stared out into the dark room.
    Hawk said, "I circle around this way. You go that