Ex-Kop (9 page)

“No, not Roby's,” he said. “I mean Lagarto.”

“It's home.”

“Have you ever been offworld, Mr. Mozambe?”

“No.”

“So few of you Lagartans have. Have you ever wanted to?”

“No.”

He turned to Liz. “Now there's a man who knows what he has. You could learn a thing or two from him.”

Liz rolled her eyes at him.

Horst laughed an easy, flawless laugh. “She's been after me to take her up with me.”

Liz turned to me. “I'd like to see what life is like in the stars. What's so wrong with that?”

“You're not missing anything,” he said to her. To me, he said, “She won't listen. I'm amazed how many of you Lagartans sit down here feeling sorry for yourselves, thinking life is so great up there, but I'm telling you, I'd rather be here. If it weren't for my business calling me up a few months a year, I'd live here full-time.”

“And just what is it that you love so much about Lagarto?”

“Lagarto is
real
. You don't know what it's like to live inside a metal tube your whole life, where water comes from a faucet instead of a river, and food comes in plastic packages. Life up there is overrated. It's all so artificial. Do you understand me, Mr. Mozambe?”

I nodded politely as my brain tried to reconcile the fact that these words were coming out of this mannequin-man.

“There's no weather up there,” he continued, “none of this fantastic rain. It's always the same temperature, and the air tastes the same every day. It's a sterile existence in space, a miserable, sterile existence.”

Liz chimed in with a challenging attitude. “If it's so bad up there, then why haven't you all moved down to the surface?”

He put his hand over Liz's. “Because people are fools, my dear. They're so used to their disinfectants and their antibacterials that they can't get over the thought of breathing unfiltered air. They think that if they come down here they'll get sick on the water, or catch a nasty case of the rot. Some of these people haven't seen an insect in their lives, and you can tell them all you want about the marvels of bug spray, but they won't listen to you. It's only the adventurous spirits that make
the journey. To me, you haven't lived until you've taken a dip in the Koba. You don't know what life is about until you eat meat from a monitor lizard that you killed yourself. And the people? I love your people.” He kissed Liz's cheek. “They have so much character. They live with the faces their parents gave them, with all their glorious imperfections. They get wrinkled when they get old, and they wear their scars proudly instead of having them erased. Your women carry their babies to term instead of gestating them in tanks. You see how impersonal a practice that is? How can a mother truly appreciate her child unless she's gone through the pain of childbirth?”

I said to Liz, “When did you say Ian was getting here?”

Horst looked offended. He wasn't used to being interrupted, but I didn't care. I was sick of hearing his bullshit. All that crap about us having “character,” and here he was pawing all over Liz, a drop-dead beauty. If he loved our “glorious imperfections” so much, then why wasn't he cozying up to some cross-eyed, acne-scarred, big-nosed, frizzy-haired, flat-chested gimp?

“Ah, I didn't realize you were waiting for Mr. Davies,” he said. “I'm sure he'll be along any minute, Mr. Mozambe. Sorry for rattling on the way I have. I'll leave you be.” With that, he stood up and went back to his autopsy table and sat next to his cooing cooze.

Liz had a slight grin on her face.

“Why are you smiling?”

“He's not used to being put in his place like that.”

“You like seeing him put in his place?”

“Sometimes.”

“What does he do?” I asked.

“He already told you. He's a businessman.”

“Do you and he … ?”

“We used to. He was a lot of fun. But I ended it before it got serious.”

“You sure he got the message? It looked like he was trying to tell me something, the way he was getting so close to you.”

“He gets a little jealous from time to time.”

She ran her hand across the rack's surface and began fiddling with the shackle again. I found my eyes moving from one rack to another. She caught me in the act and smiled naughtily, fully back into her kinky librarian persona. I felt a good kind of stirring in my stomach that made its way down into my pants. For the first time in forever, I felt intoxicated on something other than booze.

The sight of Ian strolling in slapped me sober. He stopped to peck Liz on the forehead and dropped onto a stool to my right. Finding myself caught between a man and his flirtatious girlfriend, I rejected the guilt that wanted to creep in—this fucker broke my fingers.

“Good to see you, boy-o.”

I answered with silence.

Ian gave Liz a leave-us-alone nod.

“Nice meeting you,” she said to me as she stood. She moved off to the doorway and leaned against its frame, peering out onto the main floor.

I took my eyes off her and squared them on Ian. His hair was slicked straight back from a high forehead perched on top of wild eyes.
What happened to this guy?
It was like he was a different person. I couldn't see any sign of the meek momma's boy I'd known in the past.

I asked, “What do you want?”

“You like to get right to the point, don't you, boy-o. Can't say I blame you. You must be on the edge of your seat wondering what it is I want from you. Here's the thing, Juno. I wasn't thinking things through when we got together this morning. It's not everyday I get a chance to lay some muscle on a legendary badass, you see what I'm saying? I couldn't help but get all
caught up in the fun of it.” He winked at me. He actually
winked
, the fucker.

As the waitress passed, Ian waved for a drink. “Truth is, I got carried away, and I missed an opportunity to get a step ahead of my partner. You have to understand that I don't react well to people getting in my business, you see what I'm saying? I just wanted that bitch partner of mine to butt the fuck out. She thinks she's so smart, trying to sell me that bullshit about calling you in on the barge murders. Like I'm gonna believe she thinks a washed-out heavy is going to solve that case. No offense, boy-o, but get real. Half of hommy's been working that case for months and hasn't got shit. And all the sudden, I'm supposed to believe that what we need is supersleuth Juno Mozambe.”

Ian looked at me, waiting for me to agree, expecting me to say something like, “Yeah, that's right, Ian. I
am
a dumb shit. I don't know what Maggie was doing feeding you a line like that.”

After a few seconds of silence, he said, “Let's get right to it, boy-o. Here's how thing are going to work between us. First you're going to tell me why Maggie's getting all suspicious. Then you're going to walk out that door and you're going to find a way to get close to her. That bitch is fucking paranoid. She's always off doing her own thing and not telling anybody what she's up to. I don't know why, but she trusts you, and we're going to use that. You're going to make up some reason to get close, be her confidant. Then you're going to give me daily reports on what she's doing. I'm talking
detailed
reports, you hear me? I want the kind of shit that says she woke up at five twenty-five; she took a piss at five twenty-six, and she stuffed in a fresh rag at five twenty-seven. Are we straight?”

“How much you paying?”

“What?” he said, incredulous.

What was it with this guy? He broke a couple bones and thought I would be his errand boy? Fuck that. My loyalty was with Maggie, complete and absolute. But I needed money in a bad way, and I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to score some cash. I could take his money and feed him a bunch of bullshit on Maggie. “I said, ‘How much?’”

Ian burst out laughing and slapped the table, shackles bouncing with a clank. “You are one cold bastard, boy-o. No wonder the old chief liked you so much.”

I grinned to cover my bafflement. Why the hell was he acting so surprised?

“I can't believe you,” he said. “I really can't. I don't stun easy, and I'm sitting here stunned outright. I mean, I pinched that air hose until she went fucking purple, and here's her husband saying, ‘How much?’” He slapped the table again, shaking his head in disbelief.

I could hardly breathe. I took a shaky sip of my drink, barely keeping that fake grin going. Did he just say what I thought he said? He pinched her air hose shut? Niki's air hose? With a sickening flash, it suddenly made sense. How he must have threatened her to get at me. How he thought I would spy on Maggie to keep Niki alive. I practically choked on my brandy, feeling like it was
my
air hose that he had pinched shut.

He'd asked me on the phone if I'd gotten his message. And I'd said yes. I thought he was talking about the broken fingers he gave me. But that wasn't it at all. He was talking about the message Niki was supposed to give me after he'd cut off her air supply.

Why didn't she tell me?

Ian waved for more drinks. “You must have ice water in those veins of yours, boy-o. Don't you care what happens to her?”

The world was spinning. My face felt like it was on fire. Feeling
the pressure to say something, I thought fast, “You know how much that hospital costs? Shit, you'd be doing me a fucking favor.” Let him think she's not important to me. Let him think he can't get to me by going through her. That was the best way to keep her out of this.

He nodded his head slow as he thought it through. “I have to be honest with you, boy-o. It never occurred to me that you'd want to be rid of her. Why don't you just do it yourself?”

I shrugged.

“You don't have the heart for it, do you?”

I conjured up a guilty-as-charged face.

“I'll tell you what. I'll pay you your regular rate, and if you do good work, as a bonus, I'll pinch that hose till she flatlines. How's that sound?”

I couldn't speak. But knowing she was safe for now, I nodded my head up and down.

I
SPRINTED
for the river, my lungs forcing me to slow after just a block. FUCK! I took long loping strides, not bothering to avoid the puddles. I didn't know why I was running, whether I was rushing to get somewhere or just running away. What I did know was I wasn't moving fast enough to keep from feeling smothered by thoughts of Niki—my Niki—helplessly paralyzed and struggling for air.

I made it another half a block before my body gave in. I felt ill and dropped to my knees, puddle water soaking through my pant legs. I coughed up brandy and bile, making a puddle of my own in the weeds.

Why didn't she tell me? That asshole cut off her air, and she didn't even call. Why wouldn't she call? I wanted to go to sleep right there on the street, just curl up and go to sleep. I used to be
the
man. Nobody fucked with me. And now I'd fallen so far that I found my balls in the hands of some little wussy 'roid popper. I'd gone from puppet master to puppet, from fucker to sucker, from play
er
to play
ed
.

I'd gone full circle. I'd spent my childhood covering my ears while my father slapped the shit out of my mother. I was a weak helpless little kid, and all those years of wielding the power of the Koba Office of Police couldn't cover the fact that that's all I'd ever be, a weak helpless little kid who couldn't even protect his mother, or his wife.

Enough of this pathetic bullshit.
I was back on the move, my feet stepping through the dark streets. Reaching the docks, I felt the stares of iguanas perched atop pilings, looking down their noses at me. I swatted at one, sending it diving into the drink—kamikaze style.

I found a skiff and untied the line before jumping aboard and waking the young pilot. She reacted quickly, starting the motor and putt-putting us toward deeper water. I told her to open it up. She reluctantly broke etiquette and gunned the motor, our rolling wake sure to bounce all the sleeping boat captains out of their slumber.

I just about lost my shit when she asked for the fare upfront. Then, when she aimed for a floating gas station, I did lose my shit. I laid into her with raving intensity. I didn't have time for this. I needed to get there fast. Wisely, she just tuned out my rants as she used my front money to fill up. Finished, she eased the skiff out onto open water and let the waves rock me silent.

I was so focused on my upcoming confrontation that I hardly noticed the rest of the trip, nor my walk up to and through the hospital. Before I knew it, I was there at her bedside, the sound of the air pump grating on me. With every fresh pump, my rage inflated until the words came bursting out of me in an uncontrolled torrent. I told her how stupid she was for jumping off a bridge. I blamed her for losing all our money, everything I ever worked for. I was out there every day, taking risks, hustling to get the money for that spine, and here she was, working against me. It was all her fault that I was under Ian's thumb. How was I supposed to save her when she pulled this shit?

She listened to it all, her eyes not meeting mine.

“When was he here?” I managed to ask in a strangled voice.