The 56th Man (30 page)

"We have the rule of law."

"And the law isn't a tyrant? But it has
its uses. Even you, my friend, are no anarchist. You couldn't
operate your little business in relative safety if everything was
in chaos. But many of us see America as a land of delusions. Quite
honestly, you don't seem to
want
to survive."

Ari saw movement near the house. He watched
for a moment, until he was sure, then raised a finger

"Wait here."

"Funny."

Ari approached the front door carefully,
making no sudden movements.

"Sphinx?"

A serpentine shadow eased along the porch,
headed for the bushes.

"Marmaduke?"

The shadow returned, a pale, fluid form. Ari
opened the door slowly and Sphinx edged closer.

"You want to come inside? Of course you do.
Please, enter..."

Sphinx rolled out a rough, unfeminine meow
and sat. Ari leaned down slowly. The cat raised up and darted into
the bushes. Ari choked off a bellow of rage. Leaving the door open,
he stormed to the gazebo and spoke loudly enough to be heard by
both men.

"I will be back in thirty minutes. If you
begin to yell for help, the good people of this neighborhood will
call the police. The police will find your product and gun. They
will release you, put you in handcuffs, and take you away to jail.
If that doesn't bother you, yell away."

"You sure you'll be back?" Mark moaned from
beside the kayak.

"If you succeed in escaping,
congratulations."

Eight minutes later, Ari had reached the
nearest James River Park entrance. The red Bronco with a boat rack
on the roof was parked under a tree in the gravel parking lot. A
sign at the entrance told visitors the park closed at dusk. It was
12:48 in the morning.

Switching on his brights, he swerved around
some trees and drove up fast on the Bronco's driver side, braking
at the last instant. A pair of hands flew up to ward off the glare.
Ari grabbed the Tec-9 off the passenger seat and jumped out. He ran
to the Bronco door and flung it open.

"Would you please douse your headlights? And
there's no need for that gun. I won't fight you."

The woman was perhaps fifty, well-preserved
under a dark mantle of dignity. A subdued Afro highlighted her high
cheeks and added strength to eyes that were otherwise quite gentle.
Her chin betrayed a slight plumpness which Ari found strangely
attractive.

"Get out," he said.

"I'm not dressed."

"Get out," he repeated.

She sighed, turned slowly in her seat, and
gracefully descended. She was wearing blue fuzzy bunny slippers and
her neck was hidden in a dark chandelle boa. She held her kimono
robe closed with both hands.

"Those lights..." she complained softly.

Ari wanted her to lift her robe so he could
check for weapons, but something in him balked. He might be
godless, but he still held on to cultural discretion. Held on for
dear life. He had only snatched the gum out of Sandra's mouth
because she was so boldly insufferable. This woman radiated
dignity, fluffed robe, slippers and all. He backed to the door of
the xB, reached in, and dimmed the headlights. After a moment's
consideration, he lowered the Tec-9 on the driver seat.

"Please move over against that tree."

The woman gathered up her robe and moved with
regal ease. Her bunny slippers looked as though they were nibbling
on the gravel. Ari leaned into the Bronco. Turning on the overhead
light, he rummaged under the seats. He checked the glove
compartment. He found a gun and held it up for her to see. She
offered an indifferent shrug. Ari then searched the rear of the
vehicle. In the cargo area there was a neat stack of towels and a
change of clothing for the kayakers. Something could be stashed in
the spare, but Ari did not think 'Mr. Big', aka 'Ms. Big', was the
type to make things more difficult than was called for. No one had
interfered with her trade, so there was no need to expend
unnecessary effort to hide her product. He saw her looking away,
probably towards the boat ramp. He did not feel inclined to harm
her.

"For two years you've been doing this and the
police haven't bothered you," said Ari, circling the Bronco and
facing her. She turned her languid eyes on him and smiled. Ari
couldn't help himself--he smiled back.

"You've been checking on me." She waggled her
finger at him.

"Is Carrington protecting you? Have you paid
him off? Or did you threaten to expose Moria Riggins if he arrested
you?"

"You calling me a blackmailer?"

Ari thought a moment. "I believe that's the
right word."

"You're not very nice."

"Your...employees were out here on the river
the night of the murders, weren't they?"

"My boys? They wouldn't hurt a fly."

"They carry a gun."

"All right, if the fly was big enough and
mean enough, they might hurt him." She made it sound like a threat.
Then she frowned. "How do you know--"

"You send them out on the open water in the
middle of winter? They must be very dedicated. I admire that."

"They're in very good shape," she said in a
sultry voice that alerted Ari to something more extensive than mere
business. It was not the first time he had noted the relationship
between criminal behavior and unorthodox sexual arrangements. But
this being America, perhaps a black and white, May-September
threesome wasn't all that unusual.

"Did they tell you what they saw?"

"They tell me everything. But that doesn't
mean I tell you anything."

"The police would have been very interested
in their evidence, don't you think? They knew...well, Carrington
knew...there was a good chance what they saw could be critical. Has
the detective interviewed you?"

She was listening for her boys, wondering at
the delay. They hadn’t even checked in on her cell phone.

"Did you extend your favors to the Detective
Sergeant?"

"He doesn't use product."

"So you do know him. But I was thinking of
something else."

"You mean did I offer him
this
?" She let the robe open and
spread her arms, displaying the amorous amplitude beneath her sheer
night gown as if it was a prized possession that had been damaged
in transit. But she had no higher opinion of Carrington's physical
attributes. "I'm fond of my boys, not white carcasses."

"I see," said Ari, a little surprised by his
own discomfort. "Then I assume they were serious when they said you
will come after me when you found out what I have done to
them."

He expected she could be formidable, but he
knew from experience there was no adequate stance to meet the
attack of an outraged woman untrained in hand-to-hand combat. Up to
this point, Ari had admired her cool refinement under pressure. It
took him aback when she lunged without preliminary. But he was
ready when she went for his eyes. He sidestepped and she skidded on
the gravel. When she caught herself and whirled, she did something
that took him completely by surprise. Instead of resuming her
flailing, no-holds-barred approach, she squared off and threw a
roundhouse, catching him neatly on the jaw. He staggered back.
Sensing victory, she came at him almost head-down, intent on
knocking him over. He dodged, grabbed her by the waist, and stuck
out his leg. As she tripped and fell, Ari took on the onerous task
of easing her descent, holding on as best he could when she went
face-down. This touch of charity paid off when his hands caught on
something strapped under her nightgown. Necessity being the
destroyer of custom, he whipped up the hem of her robe.

"Oh no you don't," the woman growled,
mistaking his intention and struggling to buck him off. "That's
reserved."

Ari did not answer, but slipped his hands
deftly under her gown. Realizing her error, the woman fought even
harder when she felt his hands exploring her money belt. It was
cinched with a Velcro strap that he easily pulled apart. The woman
flattened herself on the ground, holding the pouch down with her
weight. To his dismay, Ari began experiencing an erection. His task
became all the more difficult as he tried to raise her off the
pouch without pressing against the bared cheeks underneath him. It
was only when she startled him with an involuntary burst of
laughter that he saw the solution. He reached up higher and tickled
the hot flesh of her armpits. She jumped and bucked even harder,
giving Ari enough of a gap to slide the pouch out. He pulled away
and stood with the money belt in his hand.

"I'll pack your boys off when I get back to
the house. I have to run an errand first. Also, they won't have
their night vision goggles. So there will be a delay of perhaps an
hour."

The woman rolled over and sat up. The gravel
made an uncomfortable seat and she began working her way to her
feet. Ari leaned down to help and she almost managed to bite his
hand.

"Give me that back."

Ari ignored the demand. "When you file your
complaint with the detective sergeant, tell him I have solved his
mystery for him."

"What makes you think--"

"I don't believe he's been taking a cut." He
gave the belt a little shake. "He might even be pleased by your
distress. You were blackmailing him, weren't you? He only agreed to
keep the police away from you. As for any other trouble you might
encounter, I believe the saying is, 'You're on your own'."

"You don't know anything."

"I know the Rigginses died years ago. The
murder was a formality. Allah willed it. In the meantime, I want to
thank you for the gun and this." He shook the belt again. "Believe
me, I have been severely underfunded up to this point."

No headlights appeared in his rearview
mirror. He doubted Sandra and her peers were tracking him in real
time. They probably only used the LoJack to keep a record of his
comings and goings. But if someone noticed the xB making a
mysterious foray to the park in the middle of the night, they might
send someone out to check up on him.

I was gazing at the moon, as
Jerry Riggins was allegedly doing when he was
killed
.

At an all-night gas and convenience store on
Forest Hill Avenue he used his credit card to buy a small,
overpriced bag of all-purpose flour, then drove home. The kayakers
were still in the yard, though not quite where he had left them.
The first one had rolled off the gazebo platform and managed to get
several yards down the slope before fetching up against a bush,
while Mark had wormed his way a short distance uphill. In another
half hour or so one of them would have been gnawing at the zip ties
binding the other. Ari crouched between them, a menacing ghost.

"I have only one question left for the two of
you, and then I'll let you go." Ari suddenly noticed the dew on the
grass. He leapt up and ran over to his new jacket. It was damp.
Teeth gritted, he draped it over the gazebo railing.

"What's the question?" the first kayaker
asked.

"How many shots were fired?"

They didn't answer.

"That night. That very cold, bitter night
when all normal men are at home with their wives, when the sound of
a gunshot would carry clear and far. How many?"

"One..." Mark sighed. “When we came back
later. We figured that crazy bastard was shooting at us and we took
off.”

"Just as I thought." Ari cut the ties with
the knife he had taken from the kayak. They sat up, massaging their
wrists and ankles.

"Be on your way. Your earth mother is waiting
for you. The Kayak Express is no longer in operation. "

"What did you do to her?"

"She's only a little mussed. Don't make any
threatening moves. In case you can't see, I'm aiming a gun at
you."

"Where's our goggles?"

"You will leave without them."

"Go blind?"

"You know the way well. Go slowly. It's not
far."

"But--"

"Don't argue, Mark," the first kayaker said,
a grimace in his voice. "Let's get the hell out of here. I want to
see how Mother's doing."

'Mother'. Psychologists might make studying
the arrangement an interesting source of entertainment on a dull
afternoon. Ari thought Mother might very well snap the boys’ heads
off for their incompetence. Well, that was one function of
Motherhood.

The young men dragged the kayak back into the
water and paddled away, slowly. Their recriminations and complaints
faded downriver.

Ari gathered up his booty and hid it under
the gazebo floor. The cash alone was an impressive haul, amounting
to thousands. He went back up to the house, weary and strangely
depressed. The front door was still open. There was no sign of
Sphinx. He went inside and closed the door.

Upstairs, he inserted a hanger inside his
jacket and hung it from the shower curtain rail in the bathroom. He
stripped down to his shorts. His head was aching, perhaps as a
result of his busy day--with more than a touch of Long Island Tea
thrown in. Stretching out on his mattress, he allowed the tension
in his body to drain into the compressed air underneath him. He
turned onto his side.

As he drifted off, something furry and
comforting inserted itself behind his bent knees.

"Ah, Sphinx," he murmured. "I knew you
couldn't resist an open door..."

FIFTEEN

Unlike the Americans, Ghaith was not burdened
by twenty-five or more pounds of equipment. He was wearing a flak
vest, but so were the two men he was chasing. He was on equal
terms. He did not think being outnumbered was of consequence. On
the other hand, being weaponless could pose a problem.

He had to keep the fake IP's in sight. While
he knew the general layout of Sadr City, he was not familiar with
its nooks and byways. It would be easy for the two of them to lose
themselves in an unexpected door or alley. Fortunately, the few
pedestrians dodged out of the way. Most people did not want
trouble. Even here. Especially here. The two would not be losing
themselves in a crowd.