Deadly in New York Read Free Page A

Illinois.
    Even so, the inactivity had taken its toll.
    He had felt listless, even depressed. He couldn’t help thinking about the I.R.A. mission and the sister he had never met until moments before she died.
    He had no trouble keeping off body fat, but in that last month of inactivity, he could almost feel his fighting instincts growing soft from neglect.
    So now he had a mission again, and it felt good.
    Damn good.
    He sat behind Hendricks, who handled the controls of the sleek Trislander stoically and professionally. Hawker was anxious for Hayes to begin, but he made a point not to show his eagerness.
    Hayes would get around to it when he was ready. Hayes had a reason for everything he did. Like Hawker, he was a methodical man. In their three days together on Little Cayman, Hayes had been uncommunicative. On the first day, wading the flats for bonefish, Hayes had told him briefly that he had ordered Hawker to New York for a reason, and from New York to the islands for a reason.
    He told him he would discover the reasons soon enough.
    Other than discussing their plans to handle Renard, Hayes seemed satisfied to spend their days together concentrating on the flats fish and the landlocked tarpon available to any fly fisherman lucky enough to visit Little Cayman.
    Flying at a comfortable 2500 feet, they could see how moonlight turned the expanse of Caribbean Sea into an ice field of cobalt and satin. The gauge lights of the plane were lime green, and they softly illuminated the bony face of Hendricks and the thick, no-nonsense face of Hayes.
    Finally, Hayes put away the logbook he had been updating, adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, then twisted around in his seat to face Hawker.
    â€œSo,” he said, “what did you think of Renard?”
    Hawker shrugged. “A professional. In the three days he was on the island, I never caught him staring at me once. He plausibly played the role of the wealthy French playboy on a get-away vacation. I had no idea he was following me until I arrived and you filled me in a little on Fister Corporation and some of the people it employed. He did a good job bugging our apartments. Now I understand why you didn’t want me to destroy the bugs—it would have tipped our hand.” Hawker thought for a moment. “Renard’s one mistake was underestimating us.”
    â€œRight,” Hayes interjected. “And let’s hope they keep underestimating us.” He searched through his flight jacket momentarily, then produced his heavy briar pipe. Noticing the way Hendricks wrinkled his nose, Hayes tamped the pipe full of tobacco but did not light it.
    â€œHawk, I had you go to New York because I wanted you to familiarize yourself with the area—specifically, The Bronx. That’s also why I went ahead and sent your equipment there—all you have to do is call for it at the warehouse.”
    Hawker nodded. He had spent four days in The Bronx, learning the streets, meeting a few people. On Jacob’s orders, he had leased a flat not far from Yankee Stadium and made arrangements with a storage concern before he flew to Little Cayman.
    â€œThat part of The Bronx looks like a war zone, I know,” Hayes continued. “But lately there have been sporadic efforts at reclamation. Now, for a variety of reasons, a large federal grant has been authorized. The money will be used for the construction of huge apartment complexes and office towers in what was once a thriving ethnic German neighborhood of about thirty square blocks. One edge of that neighborhood is about twenty-five blocks from a still prosperous section of The Bronx, and the federal government hopes that the redevelopment of the German neighborhood will gradually lead to the reclamation of the connecting territory. Following me so far?”
    Hawker nodded and said nothing.
    â€œGood.” Hayes removed the pipe from his teeth, using it to emphasize his next point. “A project of this magnitude