Cold Service - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,12

the old building was narrow and trimmed with tarnished gilt. The gray marble floor was cracked and faded. The elevator was a mesh cage. It rose as though it had lost all interest years ago. It eased to a clumsy stop on the tenth floor. We walked down another narrow corridor with a worn marble floor. The marble was cracked and faded, and the once even marble threshold to Duda and Husak dipped in the center, rounded with use. A nasty-looking gray-haired woman with a hint of facial hair sat in an armless swivel chair behind an old conference table, reading the Boston Herald. The table held a phone and a computer and not much else. She looked at us with contempt. Probably most of the clients that sought the services of Duda and Husak were contemptible. Not us.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"We here to see either Duda or Husak," Hawk said. "Don't matter which."

"Mr. Duda is not in," she said.

There were two doors on the other side of the secretary. One of the doors was open, and we could see a man at the desk with his coat off, talking on the phone. The other door was closed.

"Then we'll see Mr. Husak," Hawk said.

We walked toward the open door.

"Hey," she said.

We ignored her and went on into the office. She followed us in, saying, "Hey, hey, hey."

Husak said "Hold on" into the phone and looked at us.

"What's going on?" he said.

"We come to talk Ukrainians," Hawk said.

Husak said, "Then maybe you should have made an appointment."

Hawk sat in one of the client chairs. The office was small and no better looking than the rest of the building. It smelled of desperation accumulated over years. Behind Husak's desk was a dirty window that overlooked an air shaft.

Hawk looked at the secretary.

"You can go now, missy," he said.

"I ain't no missy," she said, and looked at Husak.

He nodded. And she went out. I closed the door behind her. Then I sat. He spoke into the phone again.

"Got a coupla guys here I need to listen to," he said. "I'll buzz you back in a while."

He hung up and tipped his chair back and put his feet up.

"So whadya need in such a hurry?" he said.

"Name of the people hired you to represent Bohdan Dziubakevych," Hawk said.

"Who?"

"Bohdan Dziubakevych," Hawk said.

I was impressed.

"Never heard of him," Husak said. "Who the hell are you?"

"Me and my faithful honkie be members of the Ukrainian Royal Family."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Husak said. "I got shit to do. I got no time to be flapping my gums with you."

Hawk stood and walked past Husak and opened the window behind him.

"What are you doing?" Husak said. "It's fucking freezing out."

"It is," Hawk said. "Isn't it."

He took hold of Husak's hair and yanked him out of his chair and spun him around. He shifted his grip to the back of Husak's shirt and the crotch of Husak's pants and picked him up and stuck him headfirst halfway out the window. Husak began to scream-short screams, one coming right after another, quietly so as not to make Hawk lose his grip. His body was rigid, but he didn't dare struggle. In slow desperation, he reached carefully back, trying to find something to hold on to. Hawk shook him a little, as if he were dusty.

"I don't like you," Hawk said to him in a reasonable voice. "I got no reason not to let you go unless you got something you can tell me that I might want to hear."

Husak kept up the short soft screaming. Hawk brought him in and held him with Husak's head still out the window and his chest resting on the sill. Husak's short screams morphed into gasping.

"Royal Ukrainians don't fuck around," Hawk said calmly. "Who hired you to represent Bohdan?"

Husak kept gasping.

"You go out again," Hawk said. "I let go."

"Boots," Husak gasped.

The pulse in his neck was beating visibly.

"Boots who?" Hawk said.

"Boots Podolak," Husak said.

Hawk looked at me. I nodded. Hawk pulled Husak off the window and stood him up and sat him in his chair. He left the window open. Husak sat rigid in the chair. His face was pale. He was trembling.

"He hire both of you?" Hawk said.

"Not him personally, but a guy said he was from him," Husak said. His voice was hoarse, but the gasping had slowed. "Paid us in cash. Up front. Me and Duda both."

"He want you to give them the best defense you could?"