The Blade Itself Read Online Free PDF Page B

said what the hell, there was time for one or two. They’d ended up at Lee’s, a workingman’s bar on Division with press-paneled walls and a faded newspaper cutout of an American flag pinned above the bourbon. A shovel-faced bartender poured their shots while he yelled at his granddaughter to change the damn music before it attracted yuppies. The girl, a petite thing with Kool-Aid hair, smilingly ignored him, nodding to the mellow electronic textures she’d put on the boom box.
    They’d been there half an hour, chatting about nothing in particular, before McCloskey got serious. ‘Listen, Dan – Danny, sorry – about this afternoon. I want to thank you again.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it. Really.’ As McCloskey extricated a toothpick from his vest pocket, Danny took the opportunity to change the subject. ‘What’s with those, anyway?’
    ‘The picks?’ McCloskey grimaced. ‘Smoked two packs a day for twenty years. Quit a couple back. My youngest daughter. Chew one of these instead of lighting a straight.’
    ‘It help?’
    ‘Some. But anything you do that long, you never get all the way over it.’
    Danny nodded, sipped his whiskey, enjoying the bite. ‘How many kids you have?’
    ‘Nine. You believe it?’
    Danny laughed. ‘I’m Irish.’
    ‘So cheers, then.’ They clinked glasses and threw down the whiskey. McCloskey gestured to the girl, and she came over with the bottle. Up close Danny saw a diamond stud in one side of her nose. She smiled as she poured copper into the heavy-bottomed glasses.
    Danny said to her, ‘Can I ask you something?’ She narrowed her eyes, but nodded. ‘This music.’
    ‘Bugging you? I can put on that shit-kicker stuff we usually play.’
    ‘Nah, it’s fine. Just curious what it is.’
    ‘It’s trip-hop,’ she said. ‘With dub influences.’
    Danny smiled over at McCloskey. ‘Used to be it only took one word.’
    ‘Tell me,’ the foreman said. ‘You should hear the stuff my kids listen to.’
    ‘So now can I ask you something?’ The girl set the bottle down, looking at Danny.
    He shrugged. ‘Sure.’
    ‘You guys aren’t planning any trouble, are you? Because if you are, you ought to know we keep a pistol under the bar.’
    He squinted at her, surprised. ‘No, no trouble. Just here for a couple of drinks.’ A tingle ran up the backs of his hands. ‘Why?’
    ‘Because that big guy’s been eye-fucking you since he came in.’
    Tension locked his neck muscles. Over the stereo, a woman’s voice whispered something about black flowers blossoming. Slowly, Danny spun on his stool.
    He loomed near the back wall, feet apart like a boxer. His gaze smashed through the cigarette smoke and gruff laughter to hit Danny with physical force, and Danny’s fingers slipped a little on the glass, splashing some of thewhiskey on his shirt. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then with measured steps, Evan started over.
    ‘Someone you know?’ McCloskey spoke with the quiet of a man who could handle himself.
    Danny’s mind raced. What the hell was Evan doing here? And what was he supposed to do now? Introduce the foreman like they were all buddies? Spin the stool away and pretend Evan didn’t exist? Who was this guy walking toward him, and what did he mean to Danny Carter, regular civilian?
    ‘It’s okay,’ he said, not sure it was.
    And then Evan was there. Prison had boiled him down, hardening the angles of his face and neck. Whip-cord muscles bulged against his sweater. His curly hair was neatly kept, the sides slicked back.
    His dark eyes betrayed nothing at all.
    ‘Long time.’ Danny struggled to keep his game face, his heart thumping.
    Evan flicked his gaze over to McCloskey, then back again. Danny turned. ‘Jim, would you give us a minute? Evan’s an old friend.’
    The foreman drew himself up on the stool. ‘You sure?’
    ‘Yes.’
    The man hesitated, then stood. ‘You know, I should probably get gone anyway. The wife’ll be expecting