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Robert B. Parker - Cold Service (Spenser Series #32)

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Robert B. Parker Cold Service (Spenser Series #32)
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    Cold Service (Spenser Series #32)
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Cold Service (Spenser Series #32): summary, description and annotation

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When his buddy Hawk is beaten within an inch of his life, Spenser infiltrates a ruthless mob in the name of friendship--and revenge.

Robert B. Parker: author's other books


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"SHOOTING START TODAY," Hawk said. "Leonard tell you?" "Yep." "Tell you the time?" "Nope." We were in Hawk's car, parked at the curb in the little square that fronted City Hall. It was 7 A.M. on a May morning, and even Marshport had a fresh May morning quality as we sipped our coffee and watched the few people employed in Marshport straggle along to work. "My guess is soon," I said. "On the corner?" "Yes." "Best I could see through the tinted glass," Hawk said, "there be several aggressive-looking brothers in there." "Car's black, too," I said. "As it should be," Hawk said. "Bet there's some more around," I said. "Blue Town Car over there," Hawk said. "Other corner." "And maybe a couple back of the building." "Pretty sure," Hawk said. "Vinnie's back there, case things go that way." "With cell phone?" I said. "Un-huh." "How did we crime busters function without them all those years?" "Yelled loud," Hawk said. "You know what I like here?" I said. "There's a bunch of black guys waiting in cars to shoot it up with a bunch of white guys, and it's not about race." "Be about power and money, mostly," Hawk said. "Race can't hold a candle," I said. "What can?" Hawk said. "What can?" Hawk said.

We drank some coffee. Nobody did anything. The Expedition and the Town Car sat quietly. "Gray Man know?" I said. "Un-huh." At eight o'clock, a few public servants began to drift into City Hall. "If they don't spot him when he arrives, how will they know he's there?" I said. "He might come in through his private tunnel." "Whenever go time is, they go," Hawk said. "He ain't in there, they shoot somebody else. "He ain't in there, they shoot somebody else.

Be an object lesson." "Lot of people to shoot," I said. Hawk shook his head. "Leonard running this," Hawk said. "He pretty slick. He know Tony don't like to shoot civilians. "Things be relative," he said. "Tony has Leonard running it," I said. "Un-huh. "Un-huh.

Tony pretty good with a gun, and he ain't scared of much, but he know who he is and what he do best, and he know how to delegate. Leonard can run this." "And he wouldn't send Ty Bop or Junior," I said. "They're specialists." "They belong to Tony. Junior will stomp somebody if Tony tells him, and Ty Bop shoot who Tony tell him. But they main work is protecting Tony." "Like a closer," I said. "Un-huh." "Age of specialization," I said.

We had some more coffee. Whoever was going to work appeared to have gone. The square was quiet. At 9:35, a small procession arrived at City Hall. A police van pulled up, and some SWAT types got out with automatic weapons and spread out in front of City Hall. Then a limo pulled up and Boots got out and walked up the front steps and into City Hall with a Ukrainian on either side of him, and four uniformed cops around them.

The SWAT types got back in the van and the van pulled away. At 10:00 Leonard and five other men got out of the Expedition. One of the men carried a shoulder bag. They walked across the square and into City Hall. "Here we go," I said. "Good," Hawk said. " 'Cause we out of coffee." "They're wearing some Kevlar," I said. "But I don't see heavy weapons." "Something in the bag," Hawk said. "Grenades, maybe?" "Maybe," Hawk said. "Maybe something disassembled." "Maybe ammo," I said. "Be prepared," Hawk said. "Be prepared," Hawk said.

We heard a single gunshot from City Hall. It wasn't very loud and, muffled by the building, it didn't sound like much of anything unless you were listening for it. "Be the cop in the lobby," Hawk said. Hawk's cell phone doubled as a car phone. It rang. We heard three more shots.

Hawk pressed the speaker button. "Yo," he said. The Gray Man said, "They are in the building. I've encouraged Podolak to exit through the tunnel. The Ukrainians will take him." "Car?" "Yes, in the garage, a silver Volvo SUV." "Exchange Street exit?" "Almost certainly." "You?" I could almost hear the Gray Man's mirthless, wispy smile. "We'll talk again." The connection broke. "We'll talk again." The connection broke.

Hawk pressed the end button and put the car in gear, and we drove around the square and a block up, where we could see the Exchange Street exit from the garage. We were far enough away so that the gunfire, which had become more frequent, was a barely audible sequence of pops. A block from the field of fire, you wouldn't know anything was up. In the distance, I could hear a siren. "Reinforcements," I said. "My guess," Hawk said, "they going to run into some sort of roadblock 'fore they get here.

I tole you. Leonard's pretty slick." As he spoke, the silver Volvo SUV came out of the garage and went west on Franklin Street. "Tally ho," Hawk said, and we drove along Franklin Street behind them.

HAWK COULD TAILa fox through a henhouse, and neither the fox nor the hens would know it. While he drove along, three cars in back of the silver Volvo, I called Vinnie. "You should probably go home before somebody shoots you." Vinnie said "Sure," and broke the connection. "Vinnie don't say much," Hawk said. "You wish he'd talk more?" I said. "God, no," Hawk said. "God, no," Hawk said.

We went through Saugus and up Route 1. We went east on Route 128 and south on 114. "We seem to be moving in a large circle," I said. "Be safer to go around the fight than through it," Hawk said. "Plus," I said, "fooling anyone trying to follow." "You bet," Hawk said. After an hour and a half, we ended up almost next door to Marshport in the Phillips's Point section of Swampscott, near Tedesco Rocks, a bit beyond the foot of a long driveway that wound up to a squat little flat-roofed fieldstone castle with a crenelated roofline and a round tower at one end.

The silver Volvo had pulled into that driveway and parked in the big circle at the top. "Tasteful," Hawk said. "Probably got boiling oil," I said, "ready on the roof." "At least there no drawbridge," Hawk said. We sat and looked at the house. It sat high on some sort of ledge. The ocean was below it in the back.

There was land on both sides, between it and its neighbors. "Got an entry plan?" I said. "No." "Good to be working with a pro," I said. "Assuming we get in, you got an exit plan?" "Same as usual," Hawk said. "Run like hell?" I said. "That one," Hawk said.

We sat for a while more with the car windows down. It was a warm, damp, and overcast day. The kind of day that might feature a thunderstorm before it was over. A car passed us in the other direction. A solitary gull swung over us on its way to the sea. "Oh, good," I said. "We walks up the driveway and rings the front doorbell." "Un-huh." "Tha's it," Hawk said. "We walks up the driveway and rings the front doorbell." "Un-huh." "Tha's it," Hawk said.

I didn't say anything. Hawk didn't say anything. Above us, the gull did another long sweep. "Well," I said finally, "it's an easy plan to remember." We got out of the car. Hawk opened the trunk and took out two dark-blue Kevlar vests. He handed me one.

I put it on and adjusted the Velcro straps. Hawk put his on. "Don't tell Vinnie we wore these," I said. "He'll think we're sissies." "He don't have to know," Hawk said. We started up the driveway. Hawk had his big.44 out and concealed behind his right leg.

I had brought my Browning nine-millimeter. "Put the gun away," Hawk said. "We get in, I take the Ukrainians. You take Boots. I don't want him dead." "Okay if I tickle him?" I said. "Long as he don't die," Hawk said.

I holstered the Browning. It was a long walk up the driveway. Except for the easy long cycle of the seagull's pattern, nothing happened as we walked it. No dogs barked. No alarms sounded. No one yelled, "Hey you." No one shot us.

Only the slow silence and the seagull. It was a white seagull with some gray. There are actually many kinds of seagulls. Maybe this one was a herring gull. Maybe it didn't make all that much difference what this one was. At the front door, Hawk put his left hand over the peephole and rang the bell.

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