Part 29 (2/2)
I held up a finger to him and answered the phone.
”h.e.l.lo, Patrick, you hump.”
I smiled. ”h.e.l.lo, Yefim.”
”You like? I used 'hump' for you.”
”I like.”
”You got my cross, man?”
It hung against Dre's upper chest. It was black and the size of my hand.
”I have your cross.”
Dre gave me a double thumbs-up and another idiotic grin.
”We meet, then. Go to Great Woods.”
”What?”
”Great Woods, man. The Tweeter Center. Oh, hang on.” I heard him place his hand over the phone and speak to someone. ”I been told it's not called Great Woods or the Tweeter Center no more. It's called-what? Hang on, Patrick.”
”The Comcast Center,” I said.
”It's called the Comcast Center,” Yefim said. ”You know it, right?”
”I know it. It's closed now. Off-season.”
”Which is why n.o.body will be around to bother us, man. Go to the east gate. You'll find a way in. Meet me by the main stage.”
”When?”
”Four hours. You bring the cross.”
”You bring Sophie.”
”You bring baby, too?”
”Right now all's I got is the cross.”
”That's a sucky deal, man.”
”It's the only deal I got if you want that cross in Kirill's house by Sat.u.r.day night.”
”Bring the doctor, then.”
I glanced at Dre, who stared at me with wide eyes and a childlike giddiness that I a.s.sumed was pharmaceutically generated.
”Who says I even know where he is?”
Yefim sighed. ”You too smart not to know we know more than we say we know.”
It took me a second to catch up to that sentence. ”We?”
”Me,” he said. ”Pavel. We. You part of something, my friend, something you not supposed to understand yet.”
”Really?”
”True. I'm playing her game, you play mine. Bring doctor.”
”Why?”
”I want to deliver message to him in person.”
”Mmmm,” I said. ”Not so sure I like that.”
”Don't worry, guy, I'm not going to hurt him. I need him. I just want to tell him personally how much I would like to see him back on the job. You bring him.”
”I'll ask him.”
”Ho-kay,” Yefim said. ”I see you soon.” He hung up.
Dre returned the cross to its hiding place beneath his pullover but not before I got a look at it. If I'd pa.s.sed it in an antique shop, I would have guessed the price at fifty dollars, no more. It was black onyx, fas.h.i.+oned in the Russian Orthodox style, with Latin inscriptions carved into the top and bottom of the face. In the center was etched another cross along with a spear and a sponge above a small rise that I presumed represented Golgotha.
”Doesn't seem worth a bunch of dead people through the ages, does it?” Dre said before slipping it under his collar.
”Most of the things that people kill for don't.”
”To the a.s.sholes doing the killing they do.”
I held out my hand. ”Why don't you give it to me?”
He gave me a smile that was all teeth. ”f.u.c.k you.”
”No, really.”
”No, really.” He bugged his eyes at me.
”Seriously,” I said. ”I'll take it and I'll do the swap. No need for you to risk your a.s.s out there with these kinds of people. It's not your thing, Dre.”
His smile widened. ”You might have everyone else buying your good-guy bulls.h.i.+t, but you're no different than anyone else. You get a chance to hold this in your hand? This artifact worth, I dunno, what van Goghs are worth? You'll think think about doing the right thing, but then you'll just keep driving until you can find someone to fence it.” about doing the right thing, but then you'll just keep driving until you can find someone to fence it.”
”So, why don't you?”
”What?”
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