Free Control by William Goldman Page B

sensed that because halfway up the block they turned, racing into a deserted lot
    Eric trapped them easily. They were caught in the farthest. corner where the walls of the lot connected, and they were breathing heavily. Eric waited for his eyes to get better accustomed. He kept ten feet away, watching them until one of them started screaming, “ This got nothin ’ to do with you, get the fuck out of it ”
    Eric felt he had to say something and he hoped he didn ’ t blow things now. It was important they realize they were in trouble, they had no choices left, they were his to do with just what he wanted—only he wasn ’ t exactly sure how you got all that across. His throat felt dry and he hoped it wouldn ’ t squeak on him. “ Don ’ t make me hurt you, ” he said easily in the night, and it sounded—he had to admit it—it sounded so goddam authentic and tough Cagney would have nodded in approval. No bluster. Not yet. Just authority— ” Don ’ t make me hurt you ” implied that it was up to them, if they wanted pain, he could deliver it.
    In the dark, the two kids looked at each other. “ You ’ re asking for it, asshole, ” the one with the magazines said, but his tone was already weaker than before.
     
    “ Give me what you stole, ” Eric said, again quietly.
    Again they looked at each other and there were bricks scattered on the floor of the lot and suddenly the one with the money stooped and grabbed for xme and Eric boomed ‘ 77 I tear you fucking apart you give me trouble — ”
    The brick might have been on fire he dropped it that quickly.
    God damn, Eric thought, it worked.
    “ This ain ’ t your business, ” the magazine kid said.
    But there was whining in his voice now.
    “ I want it all, everything you took. ”
    “ Can we keep the Playboy ’ —V
    “ You keep nothing, I want it now! ”
    “ Okay, shit, okay, ” the money kid said, and he nervously walked to Eric, held out the cash, and as Eric took it the magazine kid handed over the magazines and the money kid kicked Eric ’ s testicles up toward his stomach and in the beat or two that exists between the blow and the pain, Eric began to say “ Now get out of here ” except the “ nnnn ” was all he had time to begin before his hands went to his genitals and he pitched forward onto the bricks, the world white now with pain. He was aware as they knelt and scrabbled for their belongings, and nothing he could do would stop them, and after they were standing he wasn ’ t sure which of them began kicking his ribs in and which was the one stomping his face but he did what he feebly could, one arm trying to protect the body, the other the head, and did they enjoy it, Eric wondered, the world whiter, it seemed like they did, and would they stop, Eric wondered, the white shrouding him now and maybe they never would have if Haggerty hadn ’ t come.
    Haggerty knelt beside the body, letting the other two skitter away. Carefully he cradled Eric, lifted him, ran …
    Karen, the twin, sat in silence in an uncomfortable chair in the hospital corridor. She said nothing, just stared down toward the end and a window that looked like it was coming up dawn. Haggerty paced. He never felt less in control of himself, never more failed. The parents were in the room with the victim and had been for a while.
    I owed the man a favor, Haggerty thought. He saved my son and I owed him and look what I did. Look what I did ! He glanced at the room, then moved to the end of the corridor and stepped into the exit stairwell so he could light a Camel.
     
    And a great kid too. Sure naive, sure insanely romantic, but he didn ’ t dream about making it on Wall Street and he didn ’ t dream about boffing everything that moved, no—he dreamed of bringing in the bad guys.
    And look what you did, look what you did!
    He stomped out the cigarette, looked back down toward the room—nothing. He lit another butt. How was he going to face Doctor Lorber. What could he