“Your mother. She called. Said you did something crazy. That the police were going to shoot you down.”
“Trust my mother to paint a grim picture. I can’t talk to you now, Anais,” I said.
“Blades, please don’t hang up. What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“The last time you said that to me, the next thing I knew you were holding a gun to my head.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“The more you say that the more it hurts.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help if I don’t remember.”
“It was right after that cop was sentenced. You went out and got drunk, remember that? We got into a big argument when you came home. I told you I was leaving. You went silent. I asked you how you felt. You said you were fine. Then you put a gun to my head. I thought you were going to kill me.”
I said nothing. There was a long pause. I heard the phone click as if she’d put it down. She spoke again. “So what is she like?”
“Who?”
“You know who. That woman. The one you’re seeing.”
“I’m not seeing anybody.”
“The woman you’re fucking, if you want me to be vulgar.”
“Since when did that bother you?”
“Sometimes you can be such a prick.”
“She’s dead. The police think I killed her.”
“Did you?”
I hung up the phone. Seconds later it rang again. I hesitated before picking it up.
“Why did you hang up on me?” Anais shrieked.
I didn’t answer.
“I can be on the next flight to New York,” she said.
“What for?”
After a hush, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t kill her.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Blades, sometimes you scare me. You’ve never told me what you did in Miami when you took off three years ago. And then all those weird dreams you were having.”
“What dreams?”
“Oh come on, Blades. The ones you didn’t want to discuss with the therapist until I forced you to. The ones about killing your family. Have you had one of those dreams lately?”
I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t lie. “The night before she was killed. I dreamed I’d shot Jason accidentally.”
“You’ve got so many things going on in your head, it’s hard to feel comfortable with you.”
“The only thing in my head is that I can’t seem to stop loving you.”
She chuckled. “Always with the sweet talk.”
“It isn’t sweet talk.”
“Did you sweet-talk that woman into your bed?”
“I wasn’t in love with her, Anais.”
“You slept with her!”
“What’re you wearing?”
“What?” Her voice punched through the receiver.
“What’re you wearing?”
“Don’t try to change the subject.”
“I just want to know what you’re wearing.”
“You’re trying to change the subject.”
“What if I am? Arguing about this isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
“I can’t talk to you anymore right now, Blades.”
“Wait. Just tell me what you’re wearing.”
“It’s not going to work, Blades. What I’m wearing is none of your damn business anyway.”
“You’re afraid.” There was dead air for a while. I pressed my advantage. “Why’re you afraid to tell me what you’re wearing?”
“I’m not afraid. I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I’m not trying to do anything. I wanna picture you, that’s all. I’m a man on the run. One sharpshooter away from eternity. All I have right now is an image of you. I just want it to be real.”
Her voice softened. “One of your shirts.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“About what?”
“Wearing my shirt.”
“Why would I lie? It doesn’t mean anything anyway. So don’t get excited. It’s just a shirt.”
“It means something to me. I don’t remember leaving any clothes there.”
“It’s old. I brought it with me when I came out.”
“You little thief.”
She giggled softly. “You never wore it.”
“What does it look like?”
“White. Long sleeves.”
“I hate white shirts.”
“I think you wore it once.”
My heart was racing. “Is that all you’re wearing?”
She laughed out loud, a clear, intoxicating sound. “Blades, I’m not going there with you.”
“Going where?”
“You know where you’re going. I’m not going to let you lead me into the wilderness.”
“I would follow you into the wilderness.”
“That’s because you’re incorrigible. I’m not.”
I sensed that she was smiling.
“Answer my question,” I said.
“Answer mine first.”
“What was your question?”
“Miami. Tell me about Miami.”
“What did you hear?”
“That you killed a man.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“You’re never gonna tell me, are you?”
There was a pause, and for a moment I thought she would hang up. I wanted her to stay on the line, but I didn’t know what to say.
“You’re never going to tell me what happened in Miami, are you?” she persisted.
“Forget about Miami. Why can’t you leave it alone?”
“One day you’re going to have to tell me, Blades.”
I wanted to tell her about Miami, but I didn’t know where to start. “So, is that all you’re wearing?”
“You are persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“Loving you has taught me that.”
“Yes, that’s all I’m wearing.”
“Just my shirt.”
“Just your shirt. Nothing else. But that’s all you’re gonna get. No phone sex.”
I laughed. “Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“Do you miss me?”
“I miss you, Blades. Are you happy now?” she said.
“Very happy. If they shoot me tonight, I’ll die happy.”
“There’ll be no dying tonight. I’ll be there tomorrow. Late.”
“I might not be alive when you get here.”
“That ain’t funny.”
“Wasn’t meant to be. Every cop in the city is looking to boil my noodles.”
“Well, your ass better still be as hard as I remember it when I get there. And I don’t mean from rigor mortis.”
“What happened to your movie?”
“They cast it. Without me. My turn will come.”
“Sure it will,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I should go.”
“Wait. Tell me where you’re staying, Blades.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Then call me. I’ll be at your mother’s.”
“I love you.”
I waited for the click that signaled she was gone. Holding the phone to my chest, I lay there in dizzy bliss. I had almost resigned myself to the idea that Anais would never come back to New York. Trying to get her back from three thousand miles away hadn’t worked. If I had known all it would take was for me to become Richard Kimble for a day, I would’ve done it ages ago.
The metallic jingle of the phone broke my daydreaming.
“Can you meet me in half an hour?” It was T-J.
“Where?”
“Do you know the White Castle on Utica? Near Empire Boulevard?”
I hesitated. It could be a setup. “You have a cell?”
“Yes.”
“Where’re you?”
“Utica and Church.”
“Take a cab.”
“Where’m I going?”
“Call me when you get to White Castle.”
I ended the call, stuffed the Smith & Wesson in the back of my waist and went to take the elevator.
IGOT INTO the Jeep parked on Willoughby and drove off, turning down Smith and then onto Atlantic Avenue. When I reached Flatbush, the phone rang.
“We’re at White Castle,” T-J said when I answered.
“What kinda car are you in?”
“A white Lincoln.”
“What’s the license-plate number?”
“Hold on.” After a few seconds T-J said, “T-eight-seven-three-nine-oh-one-C.”
“Tell the cabby to drive along Empire Boulevard. Call me when you reach Flatbush.”
I hung up.
I sped down Flatbush. My goal was to reach the intersection of Flatbush and Empire Boulevard before they did. Just as I swerved into the Wendy’s parking lot at the Flatbush–Empire Boulevard junction to turn around, my phone rang.
“We’re here,” T-J said when I answered. “Now what?”
“Just wait.”
I saw the white Lincoln at the intersection. The light was red. I waited to see if any cars would sit behind the Lincoln after the light turned green. The line of cars behind the Lincoln pulled out at the light change. I waited until the light became red again.
“Get out,” I said, into the phone.
“Where’re you?”
“Just get out.”
She paid her fare and got out. Carrying a small handbag, she was dressed in a black fitted blouse and green pants. I waited until the Lincoln drove away, and I pulled up next to her and opened the passenger door.
“Get in!” I hollered.
She peered into the Jeep for a second, then slid into the passenger seat. I burned rubber as the light turned red again.
“I came alone,” she announced.
“I noticed.”
I pointed the Jeep down Ocean Avenue.
“Mind if I smoke?” she said.
“Not at all.”
“Where’re we going?”
“Nowhere. Just driving.”
She opened her bag and took out a pack of Slims and a blue Zippo. She lit a cigarette and took a couple of deep puffs, exhaled just as deeply and leaned her arm out the window of the Jeep.
“Stubby didn’t order the hit on the agent,” she said.
“How do you know that?”
“I just know.”
I looked at her through gray smoke. “What else do you just know?”
“Stubby don’t believe in killing cops.” There was a malicious grin on her face. “Not even ex-cops that he hates. He could’ve killed you a long time ago.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s such an honorable man. I’ll be sure to tell that to the mothers of the girls whose lives he has trampled.”
“I didn’t say he was a saint.”
“Thanks, but I’d already figured that out.”
“He tried to tell The Genius it was a bad idea. That it’d fuck up their business.”
“Who’s The Genius?”
“That’s what Stubby calls him. His real name is Gabriel Aquia. I call him The Monster because he’s such a big fucking dude.”
I looked at her sharply. “Gabriel Aquia and Stubby are business partners? What kind of business?”
“What do you think?”
“Child porn?”
“Stubby called him The Genius because he knows a lot about computers. The Genius wants to build a real estate empire but didn’t have the money to get it started. So he came to Stubby. He told Stubby there was a big demand in Europe for videos with black women, and they went into business. The Genius set up these web sites based in Europe and Latin America so it’d be hard to track their operation back to the States. Their tapes are sold only on the web sites. You can’t even buy them in stores.”
“You know why that is, don’t you?”
She flicked ash out the window. “I swear I didn’t know they were using girls so young.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Stubby and I are lovers. I’m the only person he really trusts. He tells me everything.”
“Except that he kidnaps innocent undocumented immigrant children whose parents would never go to the police. Especially now.”
She fell silent. I glanced at her, wondering if she knew about his condition. She looked at me. Our eyes met for a second and she must’ve noticed the question in mine.
“Yes, I know about his situation,” she said. “He blames you.”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry about what happened to him in prison.”
“No, you’re not. You hate him.”
“It’s none of my business, but I hope you’re being careful,” I said.
“Thanks for your concern but I don’t need it. We both got it. I didn’t get it from him, though. It ain’t the end of the world. He helped me realize that. You can still live your life. I’m taking all my meds, and I’m doing alright. I can still look forward to tomorrow. I can still dream of seeing Adora in Carnegie Hall.”
“Why’re you still in the business?”
“What should I be doing? Selling insurance? This is a business. It’s my business, you know what I mean? It’s all I know.”
“I’ve heard that before. And no matter how many times I hear it, it still sounds like a cop-out to me.”
“You don’t know nothing.”
I made a left turn at Foster Avenue. “How’d you get into this business, anyway?”
“Started when I was fifteen. I wasn’t forced. I wasn’t coerced. I wasn’t tricked. Sex was the only thing that kept me from getting bored. I had a friend who was making stupid money tricking. She hooked me up.” She dragged hard on the cigarette, then let the smoke out slowly. “Listen, this whole thing would collapse if Gabriel went to jail. Stubby don’t know nothing about running no Internet business.”
“You can’t save Stubby. He’s going to jail. If he doesn’t go to jail, I will kill him myself.”
She threw the burning cigarette into the street. “You ain’t no better than Stubby with all your talk about revenge and killing.”
“I’m not the one kidnapping children.” I glanced over at her. Her lips were dark and pouty. “You in love with Stubby?”
“Is that what you think?”
“I’m asking.”
“I ain’t trying to save Stubby. He can take care of himself. I’m telling you this because I got a little girl. I remember when Adora was thirteen. She was so innocent. She’s got a chance to be something. There ain’t nothing worse than never getting a chance to dream. I ain’t in love with him. He takes care of me. But knowing that he’s hurting innocent children in his business—nobody can’t take this kind of shit off my conscience.”
She leaned out the window. We were now heading north on Utica Avenue.
“Did you see who killed the agent?”
She shook her head.
“Did you move into that apartment to spy on Edwards?”
“Yes. Stubby was afraid he might’ve been onto their operation. But all the fool wanted was money and pussy. He liked to gamble.”
“Who was paying him?”
“I guess it must’ve been The Genius.”
“And you didn’t see who went into his apartment the day he was killed.”
“A tall black man went to see him in the early afternoon. I couldn’t make out his face. Then you and the woman. I didn’t see anybody else go in or come out.”
We were approaching Eastern Parkway. I was glad for the information, but I couldn’t bring myself to say thank you. I didn’t even know if I believed her. Even if her conscience was speaking to her, it was a little too late for Serena.
I dropped her off at the corner of Utica and St. Johns Place. She got out without saying good-bye. I watched her until she had gone halfway down t
he block. Then I turned on the radio and drove off.
35
“BLADES! WHY THE fuck don’t you get a proper phone, man?”
The phone had woken me out of a deep sleep. I’d fallen off in my clothes with all the lights on. It was almost midnight. I’d been asleep for an hour.
“Trevor! Where the hell are you?” I mumbled.
“I’ll tell you where I am. I’m hiding out like some goddamn convict.”
“Are you okay?”
“Man, don’t ask me if I’m okay. How could I be okay? My wife’s in DC worrying about me, and I’m here hoping my face doesn’t show up next to yours on America’s Most Wanted. On top of that I’m trying to get hold of you and can’t find you. I got your shit, so come and get it.”
“Tell me where the hell you are.”
“Remember where we had my bachelor party?”
“Word?”
“Same room.”
I started to laugh.
“What’s so damn funny?” he said.
“You ain’t gonna believe where I am,” I said.
SOME OF HIS friends had rented a room on the twentieth floor of the very hotel I was in, the Marriott, to throw a party for Trevor the night before he got married. It was ten floors up from where I was. He had an opened Heineken waiting for me by the time I got there. We pounded and he handed me the beer. Still feeling the effects of the alcohol I’d had earlier, my first long sip of beer slid down quick and smooth.
I whistled softly as I looked out the window. He had a great view of the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan, whose lights sparkled like falling stars.
“How’s Patricia?” I asked.
“She’s still upset about the dog.”
“Did you tell her I was going to get her another dog?”
“She don’t wanna hear that shit, son. You’ve never had a dog, have you?”
I sat on the bed. “No, I haven’t. My brother was allergic.”
“I knew it. You’re a dog hater.”
“I don’t hate dogs. They’re fine when they’re sleeping.”
He got up and went into the closet, returning with a gray laptop bag. “I’m risking my life to help a fucking dog hater. Wait until Patricia hears this.” Flipping the laptop’s cover up, he powered the machine on. “I want you to know my people used every ounce of their resources to crack this shit for me. Because they love me. And I did it for you, who don’t like dogs.”
Trevor hastily input information at the username and password prompts, and a few seconds later a graphic interface that looked like Windows came up. Trevor then swiveled the computer onto my lap. I scrolled through the files, opening some at random. There were pages and pages of specs and photographs and diagrams of electronic equipment. I couldn’t tell exactly what the equipment might’ve been used for, but some of it appeared to be airport scanning machines. There were also photographs, grid maps and layouts of several airports. And plenty of photos of Middle Eastern–looking men, along with names and profiles. I stopped after awhile.
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