Read Online A Catskill Eagle by Robert B. Parker - Free Book Online Page A

standing in his living room and didn’t blink. Instead he picked up a leather bookmark from the table, put it in his book, and put the book. on the table and said, “Well?”
    I said, “I want to know where Susan Silverman is.”
    Costigan picked up a glass of port and sipped it. “So what?” he said.
    “She is with your son,” I said. “I want you to tell me where they are.”
    Costigan sipped a little more port.
    “What will you do if you know where they are?” he said.
    “Find her, take her away.”
    “If you can,” Costigan said.
    “We’ve gotten this far,” I said.
    “So I notice. I told my security people that we were vulnerable until we unified the two security systems.”
    “Probably installed the perimeter ones first,” I said. “And when you added the house stuff you didn’t think to overlap them.”
    “We are in the process,” Costigan said.
    “Where’s Susan?” I said.
    “Is this the gentleman who hit my son recently and was jailed for it?”
    Hawk moved close to Costigan and stuck the muzzle of the big .44 against Costigan’s neck at the base of the skull.
    “He stalling,” Hawk said. “He waiting for help.”
    I nodded and moved closer to Costigan. “You hit a button some way,” I said.
    “It’s under the book, on the table,” Costigan said. “If anything is placed on that spot the alarm goes off.”
    At the far end of the room two men appeared with Uzi submachine guns. They came into the room and stepped to either side of the door. The room was so big I wasn’t sure the Uzis had the range. Four more men came in behind the first two and fanned out along the wall. All had revolvers.
    “Drop the weapons,” I said, “or we will blow Costigan’s head off at the neck.”
    “No.” Costigan said.
    The bodyguards froze, guns leveled.
    “You kill me and you’ll lose the girl for sure. You’ll be dead and, believe me, my son will take it out on her.”
    “Won’t do nothing for you,” Hawk murmured.
    “What would Clausewitz call this,” I said.
    “A stalemate,” Costigan said. He held his head steady against the press of Hawk’s gun. “They can’t shoot, because you have me. But you can’t shoot because they have you.”
    “Is she here?” I said.
    “No,” Costigan said.
    “We have to know,” I said.
    Costigan shrugged. No one else moved.
    “On your feet,” I said. Hawk took hold of Costigan’s collar with his left hand and pulled him up out of the seat, rising behind him as he did with the muzzle of the .44 pressed up under Costigan’s chin. If it is possible to look contained while you’re being dragged upright with a gun pressed under your chin, Costigan did it.
    “Room by room,” I said. “Starting at the top.”
    Hawk and I stood pressed close to Costigan, Hawk holding him with the gun at his chin. The six bodyguards fanned slowly around us as we moved toward the door. Three in front, the other three in back. I watched the back three. We moved, a kind of traveling ambush, into the front hall and slowly up the vast winding stairway that went two stories to the top floor.
    “They shoot Gone With the Wind here?” Hawk said as we went up a slow step at a time.
    “Probably not,” I said. “Why? You still hot for Butterfly McQueen?”
    “It was her, or Aunt Jemima,” Hawk said. “You given any thought to how we get Susan out of here, if she here?”
    “One thing at a time,” I said. “First we see if she’s here.”
    “Orderly,” Hawk said.
    Except for us all was silence. The three bodyguards in front of us backed up the steps a stair at a time, one Uzi and two handguns. Behind us the other three kept the circle closed with the same firepower. I was getting sick of looking at .357 magnums.
    On the third floor we began to move in our peculiar minuet from room to room, turning on the lights in each. Several of the rooms were clearly housing for the bodyguards. Others were apparently for show, full of elegant furniture, gleaming with lemon oil