Procession of the Dead (22 page)

“Later, searching the files in Party Central, I discovered that.” He nodded at the sheets of paper. “I had looked for the missing names elsewhere but found no trace. When I saw them there, I made a copy and brought it home to study. There were other names on the list I knew nothing about, people who had nothing to do with me. But I knew a few and found records on some of the others.

“I decided to play a game with myself. I made a red mark to the left of each name I knew or could find in the files. Then, every once in a while, I checked the sheets to see if the names still registered with me. Whenever I found one I’d forgotten, I made a red mark to the right of it.

“You may study the names now.”

I quickly scrolled through the names on the two sheets. There were fifty, maybe sixty in all. The majority had red ticks to the left, including mine and Adrian’s, whose names had been added at the end by hand. There were five or six above us, also penciled in.

“The list is old,” he said. “Out of date. I have tried to find a more recent copy but it was moved after I found it and I’ve never come across it again. I add new names as and when I chance upon Ayuamarcans in my travels.”

Virtually all of the names with a mark to the left also had one to the right. I knew most of the ones which didn’t—Leonora Shankar, Conchita Kubekik, Paucar Wami, my own. Ama’s name wasn’t there and I decided not to ask about it. If he didn’t know of her, so much the better.

“What is this?” I asked. “Who are these people?”

“Apart from the few unmarked on the right,” he said, “I don’t know. Their names mean nothing to me. There are the six my journals tell me I killed, and a further five since, but as for the rest…” He shrugged. “I knew them once, according to those marks. Not any longer.”

“What’s an Ayuamarcan? You said you recognized me when we met. How?”

“We share a certain look,” he said. “An emptiness. I cannot explain it any better. I have studied so many of these people—though I do not remember most—that I can spot one instantly. I don’t know what it means, who these people are or what’s different about them, why they keep disappearing both from memory and the physical world. But one day, if I continue searching, I will find out. That’s why I was trailing you. I hoped you might lead me somewhere.”

I looked down at the sheets again. “You didn’t kill Adrian?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no.”

“And you’ve no idea what this might be about?”

He hesitated. “I know one thing—where the name comes from.
Ayuamarca
is Incan.”

I remembered The Cardinal and Y Tse speaking of the city’s Incan connections. I shifted uneasily and readjusted the position of my legs.

“It was the name the Incas had for the month of November,” Wami explained. “Translated literally it means
procession of the dead
. Of course our names are Incan too—you are December,
the magnificent festival
. I am March,
a garment of flowers
according to the history books.”

“Are all the—,” I began.

“—Names on the list Incan?” he finished, and shook his head. “No. There are a few others—Inti Maimi, Hatun Pocoy—but most are not.” I pored over the sheets as though persistent examination would force them to reveal their secrets.
Procession of the dead
. That sounded bad in any language.

“Have you ever asked The Cardinal about this?”

“No,” Wami said. “He doesn’t appreciate such questions.”

I cocked my head. I thought I’d heard something in his voice, possibly the slightest hint of fear. “But he is involved, isn’t he?” I pressed.

“Nobody else could order such a purge of the files in Party Central, except maybe Ford Tasso, but this isn’t Tasso’s style.”

“What about our minds?” I asked. “Who purged them?”

“You have lapses too?”

“Sort of. I can remember people—like Adrian—but I can’t recall my past before coming to this city. I thought it was just amnesia but after hearing you…”

“You believe it is more.” He nodded. “That is my reasoning also. At first it is easier to suspect oneself, but when you notice the flaws in others… There are things beyond us. That is why this file interests me. I have always been captivated by the beyond.”

Beyond
. . .

“Do you know anything about blind men in robes?” I asked.

“Who never speak?”

“What?”

“They never speak.” Wami nodded knowingly. “Not in English. Even when tortured by an expert.”

One had spoken to me but I decided not to mention it. I didn’t want him getting jealous.

“They’ve been around as long as I can remember,” Wami said. “I don’t know much about them—how many there are or what they do—but I’ve run into them from time to time. You think they’re connected to this?”

“Maybe.”

“Interesting.”

I tapped the papers against my knees and handed them back, deciding I’d learned all that I could. “Well, if there’s nothing more to add, I might as well be going,” I said lightly.

“Just like that?” He didn’t move. “I thought you might like to stay and chat a while longer.”

“What for? You don’t know anything, nor do I. Why waste each other’s time?”

“You know where I live,” he said softly.

I stiffened. “Look,” I said, “I’m not going to pretend I understand you. I’ve met a lot of warped fucks in my time, but none who’ve kept heads in their fridges and Christ alone knows what else in the freezer. I don’t know what’s inside your head and I don’t want to. If you’re going to kill me, kill me. But if you have it in your mind to let me live, then I have places to go and things to do.”

He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. “You interest me,” he said. “You are different. Stranger. There’s a light in you I have not seen in the others. I will let you live. I think I have more to gain that way.”

“Thanks,” I said drily, and stumbled to the door. I paused and looked back. He hadn’t moved a muscle. “I could let you know if I find out anything.”

“You will not track me again this easily,” he said. “I will be gone before this hour is out. I have been here—in the city—long enough. It is time to move on. But one day I may look you up if you’re still around.” He might not have meant it as a threat but it scared the shit out of me all the same.

He finished his beer, then went for a refill. He opened the fridge and lowered his head to examine something inside. He was smiling and, in the light, the snakes on his cheeks seemed to writhe. I hurried out the door and managed to stop myself from running down the stairs. Just.

Ama and I roamed the city randomly the rest of the evening. I told her about Wami, his file and memory losses. I mentioned Leonora saying something similar a while back. Like me, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. We discussed it over the gentle purr of the scooter but made no real progress. We stopped at a quiet restaurant for dinner in the evening but ate little, our minds elsewhere.

“We shouldn’t go,” Ama said. “You’ve seen Wami’s list. You won’t learn anything new by seeing the one in Party Central.”

“Wami’s was old. I want to see a recent copy.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I’ll recognize some of the newer names.”

“Capac, have you ever… or would you… do you think you could kill a man?” She looked at me.

“I haven’t yet, but yes, I will if I have to.” I didn’t hesitate with the answer.

“Could you kill like Wami does? Women? Children?”

“Of course not. He’s insane. I’d kill somebody who got in my way, but a kid? Never.” She seemed satisfied with that but I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t so sure. I’d been appalled by what I saw in Wami’s fridge. A part of me had cringed and was cringing still. But another part registered admiration. I didn’t like to admit it, but inside, not as deeply buried as I wished, I envied his ferocious feats.

We booked into a cheap motel and freshened up. I needed a shower. The trip to Wami’s had left me a sweating mess. I was pulling off my pants when I became aware of Ama watching me. “What?” I asked, pausing.

“I never got a good look at you the other night,” she said.

“I don’t want you ogling me,” I grumbled.

She laughed merrily. “Modest?”

I smiled. “I’ll take off mine if you take off yours.”

She returned my smile, nodded slyly and unpeeled. We showered together, our hands exploring each other’s bodies as they had that night in Party Central. Only this time we went slowly, fingers creeping along lightly as we kissed. I stroked Ama’s breasts while her hands performed remarkable tricks beneath my navel, but we stopped short of sex, saving it for later.

As our bodies dried in the bedroom, we shoved the two beds together and explored some more. I was struck again by Ama’s peculiar beauty. I didn’t know how others would respond to her—she wasn’t men’s magazine material—but to my excited eyes she was perfection.

We made love slowly but just as passionately as the first time. We were still new to each other but it was as if we’d been partners for years. We knew exactly how to please one another, moving without thinking, loving intuitively. We hit climax at the same time and it was painfully blissful.

“If we could bottle what we have,” Ama said afterward as we lay on the beds, wrapped in each other’s arms, “we’d make a fortune.”

“Who cares about money?” I said, nuzzling her neck. “I don’t want to share. Let the rest of the world go hang.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” she giggled.

“I’m not a very nice man,” I smiled.

“Is that the truth?” she asked seriously.

“Having regrets?”

“I just want to know. I love you but I don’t understand what it is about you that I love or why. There’s so much that’s a mystery to me. I’d like to know what sort of man I’ve pledged myself to.”

I sighed and propped myself up on an elbow. My fingers made invisible circles on the flesh of her stomach while I spoke. “I’m a gangster. I steal, bully, hurt. Kill if necessary. I don’t harm innocents. I believe in family and sticking by one’s friends. But I’ve done bad things, Ama, and I intend to do worse.”

She nodded sadly. “I figured as much.”

“Is it too dreadful to bear?” I asked quietly.

She shrugged. “At least you’re honest.”

“Can you love a man just for being honest?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “But can you love a woman who’d love a man like you?”

“I’m prepared to give her a go.” I smothered her with a kiss and she kissed back. Soon we were making love again and all worries and doubts were lost to passion.

We checked out of the motel and made our way across town, then separated a few blocks from Party Central. Ama went around to the back. I strolled through the lobby and checked in. Said I wanted to use the computers. That wasn’t unusual. I handed over my shoes and socks and started up the stairs. I took my time, reflecting on the task ahead, ruminating on Wami’s words. While I was distracted, a good picture of
the woman
formed in my mind. I tried using it to pry open the locks of my past but they were as secure as ever.

I was walking along calmly when, on the sixth floor, a shadow detached itself from one of the walls and grabbed my left arm. I almost lost control and fell down the stairs to an untimely, ridiculous death.

“Capac, it’s me.”

“Jesus!” I snapped. “Are you trying to save The Cardinal the job of killing me? What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up top.”

“I didn’t want to go alone. I got nervous.”

I studied Ama in the dim light. She was trembling. She’d seemed so brave before, I never stopped to think how unsettling it must be. She was, after all, the daughter of a restaurateur. It was only natural that she should feel intimidated and unsure of herself in a situation like this.

“You want to call this off?” I asked. “I can go by myself.”

“No.” She smiled shakily. “It’s just nerves. They’ll pass.”

“You’re sure?” When she nodded, I gave her hand a squeeze and we headed up, Ama leading the way. The stairs were deserted. “Don’t you ever run into anyone?” I whispered.

“Rarely. Occasionally I’ll hear someone coming, slip behind a door and wait for them to pass. You’re the only one who caught me. Lucky you, eh?”

I grunted and we continued past the ninth and tenth floors, then the eleventh and twelfth. There wasn’t even anybody on the unlucky thirteenth. I was starting to see how Ama had gotten away with this for so long, how easy it was to pass unnoticed if you kept your nerve, when the door to the fourteenth floor swung open on us.

We were seven steps down with nowhere to hide. As my heart dropped to my toes, I recognized the stone features of Ford Tasso. Acting impulsively, I moved up beside Ama and thrust an arm around her waist. I buried my face in her hair and pretended not to notice The Cardinal’s right-hand man.

Ford’s hand went to his holster at the sight of intruders on the stairs so close to the fifteenth. His reflexes were way sharper than they should have been—I hoped I’d be in such good shape if I lived that long, which didn’t seem likely at the moment. When he saw me he relaxed and lowered his fingers, but his expression was harsh.

“Capac,” he snapped. I looked up as if surprised. “What are you doing here? And why aren’t you using the elevator like any normal person?”