Hawke: A Novel by Ted Bell Read Free Book Online

“Shrouded.”
    Then he shrugged off whatever feelings he was having and said, “Anyway, it’s as good a place to meet these dodgy bastards as any other, I suppose.”
    Constable Congreve put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. He had been expecting this moment. Dreading it, actually.
    Like many people, Ambrose knew the awful story of the murder of Hawke’s parents. Not from Hawke, certainly, who, in all these years, had never acknowledged the murders to a soul. Hawke had, Ambrose was sure, completely erased the tragedy from his conscious mind. At the very least, the horrific memories were submerged so deeply in his subconscious, Ambrose wondered if they’d ever resurface.
    But in a large leather satchel Ambrose carried everywhere were certain CID files. Files whose existence was known only to Constable Congreve. A cold case for decades, the Hawke murders remained an unsolved double homicide that, without Congreve’s determination and commitment, would be moldering away somewhere in the Yard. In the dimly lit cemetery where they kept all the dead files buried.
    Of course he’d never dared to raise the subject with Hawke. For his friend’s sake, such gruesome memories were clearly better left unstirred. But the murders, Congreve knew, had occurred somewhere in these islands. Quite possibly in these very waters, in fact. He couldn’t help but wonder if something, a particular sight or a sound, might trigger Hawke’s memory.
    Now, Hawke’s odd expression as he gazed out over the harbor set Ambrose to wondering. What if all Hawke’s deeply submerged memories started to surface sooner rather than later? Pop up, exploding to the surface like some ancient underwater buoys whose unseen tethers have finally rotted and suddenly snapped? And if that happened, where would it all lead?
    For a moment, it looked as if Alex might say something more; but then his eyes flickered and blinked and it was all gone, flown from his face in an instant. Hawke smiled at his friend.
    “I’ll tell you one thing true, Ambrose Congreve.”
    “Yes?”
    “Everything in this world happens in the blink of an eye. Never forget that. Everything .”

3
    Gomez, bruised and bleeding, emerged from the gloom of the ancient and crumbling hospital with just two things on his mind. Sex. And murder. Not necessarily in that order, either.
    At least the rain had stopped. The broad tiled steps of the Hospital Calixto García were steaming under the wicked sun. Christ. The light made him squint as he walked down the slippery wet steps to the palmy courtyard, which was full of old soldiers in wheelchairs who had just rolled outside the former military hospital for a little air. It wasn’t all that great out here, but it sure beat the hell out of inside .
    He saw the neon glow of the tiny bar where he’d had breakfast across the Avenida de la Universidad. He could really use a couple of cold ones about now. Like, about twelve should do it.
    “I’m not having a good day,” he said to some old broad who was staring at his bloody mouth as he went through the wrought-iron gates. “Okay with you?”
    He walked out into the sweltering street beyond, cupping his hand to the side of his mouth. Hurt like hell.
    Taxi? Not when you need one. Lots of Flying Pigeon Chinese bicycles, but very few cars. He’d heard gasoline rations were down to three liters a month. Most of the cars he saw had red tags. Government cars. Hard times in the old hometown, baby. After five minutes he started to walk in the direction of the Malecón that ringed the bay. At least he could get his bearings there. Figure out where the hell he was going.
    After the stink of sick people, now he had the stink of the streets up his nose. It was like somebody whipped up a big batch of what, sugar cane juice, motor oil, and rotten mangos. Popped that pudding in the oven at five hundred. Yum, that does smell good.
    Oh, and sprinkle with sweat. Lots of sweat. Had these people never heard