A Bomb Built in Hell by Andrew Vachss Read Free Book Online

library.”
    â€œThe
library
?”
    â€œThere’s a lot of things in books they never meant us to know, you understand me?”
    â€œLike what you said about the history books—that the winners write the stories after they win the wars?”
    â€œNot just that—I’m talking about facts. Like how you make a bomb, what’s inside of a poison, how you fix guns, how much money a politician makes, what the fucking laws say …”
    â€œThere’s things you can’t learn from books.”
    â€œSure. Now you talking like a real chump. What ‘things’?
You
learning these things, kid?”
    â€œIn here? Sure.”
    â€œYou ever listen to Lester when he talks?”
    â€œThat fucking skinner. Who’d listen to that disgusting little piece of shit?”
    â€œYou would, if you had any sense. You think you’ll never be tracking a man in Times Square? You think people like Lester ain’t all over the place there? If you going to run in the jungle, you’d better know
all
the animals.”
    â€œHow come you don’t study him, then?”
    â€œI
have
studied him, Wes. But I don’t get too close, because I have to live in here the rest of my life. I can’t let anyone think I’m changing my game after all these years. That’s what gives them ideas. But if I was going out, I wouldn’t just be studying Lester, I’d be studying every freak, every maniac, every sick-ass in this joint, until I knew exactly what makes them run. And I’d use it on the street. Why you think the shrinks are always studying Lester? Anything the big bosses want to know, you got to figure is worth knowing, too, right?”
    â€œHow do I make him talk?”
    â€œYou don’t need to
make
him talk. Just forget your fucking image and listen—he’ll do all the talking you’ll ever want.”
    â€œWhat about Logan?”
    â€œWho’s that?”
    A nother long year passed. Wesley divided his time between the library, the cellblocks, and the Yard. Always listening and learning. Part of that was learning to say nothing, except when forced.
    But he spent as much time as possible with Carmine, because the old man was obviously hanging on by a fine thread, even if his reputation kept anyone from sawing at it.
    One dirty, gray morning, the Yard was nearly empty. Carmine had told Wesley to meet him at their spot by eight-thirty. Wesley had arrived early, and stood motionless in the shadows, as he had been taught. Finally, he recognized the old man’s bulk as it rounded the corner.
    â€œMorning, Pop.”
    â€œI got no more time, Wes. Listen to me as good as you ever did, and don’t say a word until I’m done. I’m checking out of here. Maybe this morning, maybe tonight …”
    â€œYou’re not—”
    â€œThe fuck’d I just tell you?”
the old man hissed in a whisper. “Shut up and listen: I made out my will, and you’re the beneficiary. Sit down with me here against the wall.”
    The two men hunkered down against the wall, ignoring the dampness. Wesley went stone-cold quiet, because one sidelong glance told him the old man wasn’t going to get up again.
    â€œYou got to
remember
all this, Wes—you can’t be writing it down. When you wrap up, you go to Cleveland; that’s in Ohio. Take the bus in, but fly out, understand? Don’t use the big airport going back, the one they call Hopkins. They got a little commuter airport in Cleveland. Like for businessmen, so be sure you got a suit on. Israel, he’ll fix you up with that.
    â€œAnyway, if the wheels come off, remember you want Burke Airport. It’s right on the lake—just tell any cabbie to take you; they’ll know.
    â€œOkay, now, when you get to the bus station in Cleveland, you go to the King Hotel, that’s at Fifty-fifth and Central. You make sure you go there between midnight and two