looked back at Kurtz. The only emotion visible in her eyes now was the anger he'd seen earlier.
"Tell me what I'd have to do," said Kurtz.
She looked up at him across the table. "I help you now," she said so softly that he had to lean forward to hear. "I help you stay alive now, and sometime I don't know when, not soon maybe next summer, maybe later, you help me find Farouz and Kevin Eftakar."
"Who the fuck are Farouz and Kevin Eftakar?" said Kurtz, still standing and leaning his weight on his arms.
"My ex-husband and my son," whispered Rigby.
"Your son?"
"My baby," said the cop. "He was one year old when Farouz stole him."
"Stole him?" said Kurtz. "You're talking about a custody case? If the judge said"
"The judge didn't say a fucking thing," snapped Rigby. "There were no custody hearings. Farouz just took him."
Kurtz sat down. "Look, you've got the law on your side, Rigby. The FBI will work the case if your asshole of an ex-husband crossed state lines. You're a good detective yourself and all the other departments will give you a hand"
"He stole my baby from me nine years ago and took him to Iran," said Rigby. "I want Kevin back."
"Ah," said Kurtz. He rubbed his face. "I'd be the wrong person to help you. The last person who could." Kurtz laughed softly. "As you said, Rig, I'm a felon, an ex-con, a parolee. I can't walk across the damned Peace Bridge without ten types of permission I wouldn't get, much less get a passport and go to Iran. You'll just have to"
"I can get the forged documents for you," said Rigby. "I have enough money set aside to get us to Iran."
"I wouldn't know how to find" began Kurtz.
"You don't have to. I'll have located Farouz and Kevin before we leave."
Kurtz looked at her. "If you can find them, you don't need me"
"I need you," said Rigby. She actually reached across and took his hand. "I'll find Farouz. I need you to kill the fucker for me."
CHAPTER TWENTY
"Is it a deal, Joe?"
"You're drunk, Rigby."
"Maybe so, but tomorrow I'll be sober and you'll still need my help if you want to find out who shot you and whatshername the parole officer."
"O'Toole."
"Yeah, so is it a deal?"
"I'm not a hired gun."
Rigby barked a laugh that ended in a snort. She rubbed her nose.
"Hire the Dane if you're so hot to take a killer to Iran with you," said Kurtz.
"I can't afford the Dane. Word is that he asks a hundred thousand bucks a pop. Who the hell can afford that? Other than Little Skag and these other Mafia assholes like your girlfriend and the faggot, I mean."
"So you want to hire me because I come cheap."
"Yeah."
Kurtz turned up Delaware Avenue. Rigby had told him she lived in a townhouse up there toward Sheridan. "The problem," said Kurtz, "is that I'm not a killer."
"I know you're not, Joe," said Rigby, tone lower now. "But you can kill a man. I've seen you do it."
"Bangkok," said Kurtz. "Bangkok doesn't count."
"No," agreed Rigby, "Bangkok doesn't count. But I know you've killed men here as well. Hell, you went to jail for throwing a mook out a sixth-story window. And every black in the projects knows that you took that drug dealer, Malcolm Kibunte, out of the Seneca Street Social Club one night last winter and tossed him over the Falls."
It was Kurtz's turn to snort. He'd never thrown anyone over the Falls. Kibunte had been tied to a rope and dangled over the edge in the icy water while he was asked a few simple questions. The stupid shit had decided to slip out of the rope and swim for it instead of answering. No one can swim upstream at the brink of Niagara Fails in the dark, in winter, at night. It was unusual that the body was found by the Maid of the Mist the next morningusually the Falls hold the bodies underneath the incredible weight of falling water for years or decades.
Kurtz said, "Nine years is a hell of a long time to wait to get your kid back. He won't remember you. He's probably sporting a mustache and got a harem of his own by now."
"Of course he won't remember me," said Rigby, not reacting with the fury Kurtz had expected. She just sounded tired. "And I haven't waited nine years. I followed them over there the month after Farouz kidnapped Kevin."
"What happened?"
"First, I couldn't get a visa from our own State Department Senator Moynihanhe
was our senator then, not this dim-blonde cuckolded bitch we have now"
"I don't think that a woman can be a cuckold," said Kurtz.
"Do you want to fucking hear this or not?" snapped Rigby. "Moynihan tried to help, but there was nothing he could do, not even get me a visa. So I went through Canada and flew to Iran and found out where Farouz was living with his family in Tehran and went to the police there and made my casewhen I found out he'd been cheating on me, Eftakar just stole my one-year-old babyand the cops called some mullah and I was kicked out of the country within twenty-four hours."
"Still" began Kurtz.
"That was the first time," said Rigby.
"You tried again?"
"In nine years?" said the cop. She sounded sober. "Of course I've tried again. When I came back after the first attempt, I moved back to Buffalo, joined the B.P.D., and tried to get legal and political help. Nothing. Two years later, I took a short leave of absence and went back to Iran under a false name. That time I actually saw Farouzconfronted him in some sort of coffee and smoking club with his brothers and pals."