Down Here

Burke ist zurück, zur Freude aller Fans von Andrew Vachss. Der frühere Staatsanwalt Wolfe wird bedroht, nun soll Burke ihn beschützen, was sich als viel gefährlicher erweist, als zunächst gedacht...

Informationen zum Autor Andrew Vachss Klappentext Bone-crushing impact! set in a milieu that clogs the lungs and stings the eyes! "Down Here" is the penetrating and remarkable thriller from a master of American noir.

Autorentext

Andrew Vachss

Klappentext

Bone-crushing impact, set in a milieu that clogs the lungs and stings the eyes, "Down Here" is the penetrating and remarkable thriller from a master of American noir.

Zusammenfassung
Many writers try to cover the same ground as Vachss. A handful are as good. None are better. People

"His greatest literary accomplishment to date and his most powerful statement yet on the choice between good and evil." --*The Jackson Sun

• Starting a Vachss novel is like putting a vial of nitroglycerin into your pocket and going for a jog. You just know things are going to get interesting. Usually sooner rather than later. *Rocky Mountain News

• Vachss s writing is like a dark rollercoaster ride of fear, love and hate. *The New-Orleans Times-Picayune

• Vachss s writing remains raw and hungry, with an epidermis of rage barely containing an infinite core of sadness. *The Seattle Times

"Sheer narrative drive is only part of what has kept readers coming back for more. . . . [Burke] is a hero of our times . . . lord of the asphalt jungle." --*Washington Post Book World

"Vachss's style is personal, laconic, shaded and, of course, creepy. If you like hard-boiled punk narrative, this is a read for you." --Los Angeles Times Book Review

"The Burke books make the noir-film genre look practically pastel. . . . The plot-driven stories churn with energy and a memorable gallery of the walking wounded." --*The Philadelphia Inquirer

• "There's no way to put a [Vachss book] down once you've begun. . . . The plot hooks are engaging and the one-liners pierce like bullets." --*Detroit Free Press
• "Andrew Vachss continues to write the most provocative novels around. . . . It is difficult to write about a burning social issue and still keep the story at white heat, but Andrew Vachss does it seamlessly." --Martha Grimes

"The New York Burke inhabits is not borrowed from anybody and shimmers on the page as gaudily and scarily as it does on the streets." --New York magazine

Down Here is tautly written...ultimately triumphant. Burke is the uncrowned king of the lawless good guys, and Down Here will advance his legend. *Bookpage

• "Addictive. . . . A [book] no student of the human condition will want to ignore." --*Huntsville Times

Leseprobe
Somebody down here, boss. Asking for you." Gateman's voice, prison-whispering to me up the intercom, all the way to the top floor of a decrepit flophouse.

This dump has been scheduled for a foundation-up rehab for years. In the meantime, the housing inspectors turn a money-blinded eye, and any derelict with a five-dollar bill can buy himself twenty-four hours off the streets.

But not on the top floor. That one is permanently closed. Unfit for Human Occupancy.

That's where I live--unregistered and invisible. The only name anyone ever had for me was last seen attached to a body part in the morgue, before the City did whatever it does with unclaimed remains.

"Somebody" was Gateman's way of saying that whoever was downstairs had come alone...and he'd seen them before. If it had been a stranger, he would have reached under the raw wood plank that holds a register nobody ever signs. A concealed button would set off the flashers behind the dinner-plate-sized red plastic disks I have on the walls in every room of my place. That's only one of its custom features. Another is a private exit.

Anytime someone comes looking for me, it's Gateman's call. Even confined to his wheelchair, he's got options. Instead of the button, he could reach for the handgun he always keeps right next to his colostomy bag.

"You get a name?" I asked.

"Pepper, right?" I heard him say to the visitor.

"Short girl, pretty, dark hair, kilowatt smile?" I asked.

"All but the last, boss," Gateman said. "And she's got company."

"What's he--?"

"It's a dog, boss. Big-ass Rottweiler."

That's when I knew the wheels had come off.

Negotiating the narrow flights up to where I live is no job for anyone with an anxiety disorder. You have to make your way past crumbling walls covered with signs screaming DANGER! ASBESTOS REMOVAL IN PROGRESS, dangling exposed wires, and puddles of bio-filth on the unlit stairwells.

It's a nasty trip, but Pepper made it in record time. She quick-stepped across the threshold, dragged forword by a barrel-chested Rottweiler she was barely restraining on a short, heavy lead.

The beast recognized me at once, treated me to his "Back the fuck up!" growl as he thrust his way into the room.

"Bruiser!" Pepper said, sharply. "Behave!"

The beast gave her a "Yeah, right!" look, but allowed her to walk him over to the futon couch.

She sat down, gave me a searching look.

I didn't say anything, waiting like I always do. Usually, Pepper dresses like a sunburst, to match a personality that could cheer up an AIDS ward. But this time, it was a plain dark-blue business suit over a white blouse with a red string tie, and her famous smile was buried deeper than Jimmy Hoffa.

"Wolfe's been arrested," she said, no preamble.

"What?"

"Last night. They picked her up at her house, in Queens. She's supposed to be arraigned--"

"Arrested for what?"

"Attempted murder, assault, criminal possession of--"

"Slow down," I told her, breathing shallow through my nose to drop my heart rate. "Start at the beginning."

Wolfe had been a career sex-crimes prosecutor, a veteran of no-holds-barred combat with the bottom-dwellers in the crime chain--rapists, child molesters, wife beaters. And, sometimes, with certain judges--the ones she called "collaborators" to their faces. A few years ago, she had gotten fired for refusing to soft-hand a "sensitive" case.

Wolfe wouldn't cross the street and represent the same freaks she used to put away. So she'd gone outlaw, and now she runs the best info-trafficking cell in the City.

I had wanted Wolfe for my own since the first time I saw her in b