THE HUNTER. Segunda parte. Capítulo 2 (3 de 3)

"What about the money?"

Stegman nodded quickly. "Yeah, I told him about that. About the checking account. He wanted to know about that, how I got the money."

Mal gnawed on his lower lip, looking across the room. "Could he trace me through that? The statements go to you. The bank wouldn't tell him nothing."

"That's what I figured," said Stegman eagerly. "It wouldn't hurt to tell him the truth. What could he do?"

"I don't know. He used to be dead, and now he isn't. I don't know what he could do. What else did you tell him?"

"Nothing, Mal." Stegman spread his hands. "What could 1 tell him? I didn't know anything else."

"Then why didn't he kill you?"

Stegman blinked. "He must of believed me."

"You gave him something else. To save your own stinking skin, you gave him something else. A name, maybe -- somebody who knows where to find me."

"I swear to Christ, Mal -- "

"Haskell's name, maybe. Didn't you?"

"On my mother, Mal -- "

"Up your mother. Did you or didn't you?" Mal waved a hand, keeping Stegman from answering. "Wait a minute. Don't cover yourself for nothing. I'm not down on you, I know the way that bastard comes on. If you told him about Haskell, I want Haskell to be ready for him, that's all -- you got nothing to worry about."

"I didn't tell him about Haskell," said Stegman. "I didn't give him any names at all, I swear it."

"What, then? You told him I was for sure in New York."

The denial hung on Stegman's lips, then fell back into his throat. He nodded. "I had to give him something, Mal," he said. "He kept flexing those goddam hands of his."

"All right. All right." Mal nodded, his whole torso moving. "That was good, Art, don't worry about it. That means he'll stick around town. That wasn't bad."

"I just had to give him something, that's all, so he wouldn't think I was holding out on him."

"That's all right. Just so you don't hold out on me either. Where did he say to contact him?"

"He didn't, Mal. Jesus, I'm not lying. I wasn't even going to give you the word at all, only we been friends -- "

"Bushwah. You were afraid he'd get to me, and I'd find out."

"Mal, we been friends."

"Where are you supposed to call? If you run into me, you're supposed to call him."

Stegman's head shook back and forth. "He didn't even suggest it, Mal. He didn't even suggest it."

Mal pondered, chewing his lower lip, thinking it over. Finally he said, "Okay. That's the way he'd work. He wouldn't trust you either."

"You can trust me, Mal. For Christ's sake -- "

"Yeah, I know -- we're friends."

"We been friends for years, Mal."

"You had him. And you let him go." Mal nodded. "All right, Art. Now find him again."

Stegman raised his hands. "What? How do I do that? I don't know nothing about him."

"I don't care how you do it, just do it."

"I wouldn't know how to start, Mal. For Christ's sake, give me a break."

"I'm giving you a break, you bastard. I'm giving you a chance to make up for doing it wrong the first time."

"Mal, there just isn't any way -- "

Mal leaned forward over the table. "Sweetie," he said, "there's got to be a way. You hear me? I got friends, and that means there's got to be a way. Unless maybe you want to drive all your cabs yourself."

Stegman opened his mouth to argue some more, but then he closed it again and looked down at the table. "I'll try, Mal," he said. "I don't know how the hell I'll do it, but I'll try."

"Good boy." Mal leaned back, smiling. "There's one of him. I got the whole Outfit on my side. What can he do?"

"Sure, Mal."

"Get us a couple beers, Artie."

Stegman got hurriedly to his feet. "Right away, Mal. Never mind, I'll spring."

Mal hadn't reached for his wallet at all.       

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“¿Qué hay del dinero?

Stegman asintió con rapidez. “Sí, hablé con él acerca de eso. Sobre la cuenta corriente. Él quería saber como conseguía yo el dinero.”

Mal se mordió el labio inferior, lanzando una mirada a la habitación. “¿Puede seguirme el rastro a partir de ahí? En los asientos bancarios solo figuras tú. Al banco no le sacará nada.

“Es lo que me figuraba,” dijo Stegman pausadamente. “No perjudicaba a nadie que le dijera la verdad. ¿Qué podría hacer?

“No lo sé. Debería estar muerto y no lo está. No sé que podría hacer. ¿Qué más te contó?”

“Nada, Mal.” Stegman separó sus manos. “¿Qué podía decirle? No sé nada más.”

“Entonces, ¿Por qué no te mató?”

Stegman pestañeó. “Debió creerme.”

“Tu le diste algo más. Para salvar tu maloliente pellejo, tu le diste algo más. Un nombre, quizás… Alguien que sepa como encontrarme.”

“Te juro que no, Mal…”

“El nombre de Haskell, quizás. ¿Se lo diste?”

“Por mi madre, Mal…”

“No metas a tu madre. ¿Lo hiciste o no lo hiciste?” Mal agitó una mano impidiendo a Stegman que respondiera. “Espera un minuto. Tu no te tienes que proteger por nada. No voy a por ti. Conozco como actúa ese tipo. Si tu le hablaste de Haskell, quiero que Haskell esté preparado. Eso es todo… Tu no tienes que preocuparte.”

“No le hablé de Haskell,” dijo Steman. “No le dí ningún nombre, en absoluto. Lo juro.”

“¿Qué, entonces?” Le dijiste que era seguro que estoy en Nueva York.”

Stegman tuvo la intención de negarlo, pero se arrepintió en el ultimo momento y asintió. “Tuve que hacerlo, Mal,” dijo. “No paraba de abrir y cerrar sus enormes manos.”

“Vale, vale.” Mal asintió inclinándose hacia adelante. “Hiciste bien, Art. No te preocupes. Él va estar merodeando por la ciudad. Eso no es tan malo.”

“Yo solo tenía que darle algo, eso es todo. Así no pensaría que trataba de darle largas.”

“Es verdad. Ahora no me des largas a mí también. ¿Dónde dijo que se podía contactar con él?”

“No lo dijo, Mal. ¡Dios! No estoy mintiendo. Si no, no hubiera venido a informarte de todo esto. Somos amigos…”

“Gilipolleces. Temías que pudiera encontrarme y que yo averiguara que habías cantado.”

”Mal, somos amigos.”

“¿Dónde se supone que tienes que llamar? Si tu me encontrabas, se supone que debías avisarle.”

Stegman sacudió la cabeza de un lado a otro. “No dejó ninguna indicación, Mal. Ninguna indicación.”

Mal se quedó en silencio, pensativo, mordisqueándose el labio inferior. Finalmente dijo, “Vale. Es su manera de trabajar. De todas formas, no hubiera confíado en ti..”

“Tu puedes confiar en mí, Mal. Por el amor de Dios…”

“Ya. Ya sé. Somos amigos.”

“Amigos de muchos años, Mal.”

“Lo tuviste. Y lo dejaste ir.” Afirmó Mal. “Vale, Art. Ahora encuéntralo de nuevo.”

Stegman levantó sus manos. “¿Qué? ¿Cómo voy a hacer eso? No sé nada de él.

“No me importa como lo hagas. Solo, hazlo.”

“No sabría como empezar, Mal. Por el amor de Dios, dame un respiro.”

“Ya te estoy dando un respiro, hijo de puta. Te estoy dando la oportunidad de arreglar lo que estropeaste la primera vez.”

“Mal, no hay ninguna manera...”

Mal se inclinó sobre la mesa. “Querido,” dijo, “tienes que encontrar la manera. ¿Me oyes? Tengo amigos, y eso significa que tienes que encontrar la manera. A menos que quieras conducir todos tus taxis tu solo.”

Stegman abría la boca para continuar excusándose, pero de pronto la cerró y bajó la mirada. “Lo intentaré, Mal,” dijo. “No sé como diablos lo voy a hacer, pero lo intentaré.”

“Buen chico.” Mal se echó para atrás sonriendo. “Él está solo, yo tengo a la Organización a mi lado. ¿Qué puede hacer?”

“Está claro, Mal.”

“Pide un par de birras, Artie.”

Stegman se levantó apresuradamente. “En seguida, Mal. No te preocupes. Yo invito.”

Mal no había hecho ademán de sacar su cartera en ningún momento.