Going, Going, Gone

by Jack Womack

  ‘I haven’t left the room, you know,’ I pointed out. Bennett didn’t say a word; the edges of his mouth – couldn’t really call them lips – pulled up over his teeth, as if the skin on his face was starting to shrink. ‘We’ll be outside. I can’t sit in this dive any longer.’

  Sartorius gave us both the old so-there stare and trundled off after his American cohort. ‘Only animals could,’ he muttered, sending his remark in Bennett’s direction but making sure it richocheted off our heads first. The two of them strolled casually out the heavy wood door, almost arm-in-arm. Through the filthy window I saw that they stationed themselves on the 40th Street curb outside, looking up at the expressway as it began its leap across the Hudson as if seeing someone getting ready to jump

  ‘Fill me in fast,’ I said to Martin, not raising my voice, but not whispering either. Before I could say anything else he put a finger to his lips and reached under the table; peeled away what looked at first like an extra-lumpy piece of chewing gum. Before I could wonder what he wanted with such a disgusting souvenir he pointed to the two small silver wires sticking out of the purple clot. Placing the bottom of his glass on top of it, he pressed down until it chirped a cockroach crunch.

  ‘This is your own damn fault,’ he said, sounding about as angry as I figured I sounded. ‘Your ultimatum was all the excuse Hamilton needed.’

  I snuck a peek out the window. Sartorius tapped his ear with his hand like he wanted to get the water out of his brain. ‘Who are you working for now, Martin? Who’ve I been working for? Interior Department or Hamilton? Or the kraut, for that matter –?’

  ‘Be quiet,’ he said, looking like he’d stayed so long at the blood bank that now he was running on empty. ‘Walter, nothing about this operation is clear-cut. It’s not officially a government action –’

  ‘Nothing I ever do is,’

  ‘But with Hamilton involved, it has an ex-officio primatur,’ Martin said, and rubbed a hand along his head. Frick and Frack, outside, probably were starting to wonder why they weren’t tuning in to the afternoon broadcast, but didn’t give any indication they were going to head back inside. Sartorius was pointing up at the expressway and frowning, as if he’d spotted patches of Jewish concrete. ‘I don’t always see what’s being built myself, Walter. Like you, I just drive in the nails I’m given –’

  ‘I’m thinking this time we’re driving them into our coffins,’ I said. ‘How’d that little punk Benbo get promoted so fast?’

  ‘Within the bureaucratic structure he’s still my associate,’ Martin said. ‘But he’s been all peaches and cream with Hamilton ever since they met.’

  ‘What a sob sister.’

  ‘And what happened, he was in my office when you called. Overheard my first reaction.’ Which had been explosive, granted. ‘He ran off and got ahold of Hamilton while we were still on the line. Half hour after you hung up Hamilton called. Gave me a real line. Said that considering the fruitful working relationship you and I had had for so many years that as the operation moved into step two it’d be preferable to have a more disinterested hand on the wheel, as he put it.’

  ‘Bennett’ll steer me off the first bridge we come to.’

  ‘I know, you know, for all I know Hamilton knows. Doesn’t matter.’ He leaned closer towards me, and in his deep brown eyes I saw all the way down to the pit of his heart. ‘Walter, I’m begging you. Don’t run out now. I think Bennett’s got ahold of something.’

  ‘There’s nothing on me,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen to that.’

  He shook his head. ‘My grandmother was octoroon.’ I nodded; mine was quad, but they’d been mixing it up in my line all the way back to Charleston, which had blessed me with my pale, pale face. ‘She was born in Jamaica. The British were bad as the Germans, they kept everything. Her records are still down there, Walter,’ he said. ‘Or were, until Che and his boys rolled into Montego Bay.’ Martin moaned; he sounded like a ghost, although not the ones I knew. ‘You know Commies, they’d’ve sold Lenin to the Nazis if there’d been a way to make a profit by it. Ten to one the Germans have already dug in to see what they could turn up, just to have on hand when times get tough.’

  That was the problem with the silent treatment; it only worked if everybody kept silent. The biggest, darkest Masai warrior could have been under-Secretary of State as long as he didn’t make noise about it and as long as his usefulness was such that the ones he worked with, and for, refrained from pointing it out. But let the first shoe drop, the first hint turn up somewhere down the line, and as soon as some kind of proof on paper could be run down, that’d be that. If you were passing and got caught, you were dead gone, even if the offending ancestor had been a seventh cousin twice removed. If you were over thirty, and got officially nabbed (which was the only way to be found out, Sophia help you if some local nitwit got it into his head to set the dogs loose), you’d be sent off to sunny Guatemala, or Costa Rica, or one of those welcoming Central American countries; but during the past couple of years, if you were under thirty and the cat got out of the bag, well, you’d be sent South, all right – down on the delta, that is to say the Mekong delta.

  That year, I was twenty-nine. Not a good age, considering.

  ‘Why hasn’t he sent word to Hoover yet, then?’

  ‘Hamilton wants the job to be done,’ Martin said. ‘Chances are good Hoover wants the job to be done. If it is done, then chances are good Bennett’ll get bumped upstairs and you and I, and everybody we know, will go on their merry way. Otherwise –’

  ‘So what’s planned for Jim? You know, don’t you?’

  He looked out the window. The louts still cooled their heels. Sartorius was sucking on a candy bar. ‘There is a pharmaceutical aspect to this, Walter.’

  ‘Figured as much,’ I said. ‘What? They want me to dose the family, drop a little something off Hyannis?’

  ‘You know much about hypnosis?’

  ‘Doesn’t work on me. That’s about it.’

  ‘Years ago, they found out that if it did work on you, and if you were hypnotized, you could be told to do something, no matter how ridiculous or dangerous, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred you’d do it. But if on the hundredth time you were told to do something you wouldn’t ordinarily do – hit somebody, steal something – you wouldn’t do it, not under any circumstances.’

  ‘Kill somebody,’ I said. I was always good at math.

  ‘There’s been further development lately completed on a readaptive agent,’ he said. ‘You’ve never tested it. As near as can be told, from what I’ve heard, it works perfectly every time. Hypnosis in a bottle, essentially. And guaranteed to work on anyone.’

  Martin chewed his nails like he needed the calcium. ‘So I’m supposed to give some to Jim?’

  He nodded. ‘And give him directions. Help him along, I suspect, though I don’t know for sure.’

  ‘Help him do what?’

  ‘You aren’t supposed to know this yet,’ he said, and this time he did start to whisper. He gave the glass-smashed bugged gum another crunch, for good measure. ‘Remember your worrying you were going to be made the Oswald in this?’ I nodded. ‘You won’t be.’

  ‘Jim?’ He nodded. ‘They want him to kill who? Humphrey? Paxton? Mc –’

  ‘Bobby.’

  I looked out the window; Bennett was checking his watch, and I had a notion he’d be traipsing back in here shortly to drag Martin along. Sartorius had turned his back to the street, and was staring at the windows of the bar. ‘Who’s back of this?’ I asked. ‘Who the hell is Hamilton working for?’

  Again, a whisper, this time directly into my ear. ‘The Kennedys.’

  That send more shivers down my spine than since I’d first laid eyes on my ghosts. Even for that bunch, this seemed pretty cold-blooded. This was something I didn’t think was safe to even dream about, much less talk over, whether whispering or screaming. I was almost scared to move my head, and look anywhere else, thinking for at least a moment or two that surely, at
the mention of their names in this unfavourable context, Joe Jr and Jack and Father Ted were all going to suddenly burst through the door, give us a sendoff with tommy guns until we were nothing but Swiss cheese, and then pile back into their black sedan and screech off back to the hideout at Hyannis, whooping. ‘Which ones?’

  ‘Well,’ said Martin. ‘Not Jim. Not Bobby –’ He shrugged.

  That night I didn’t sleep more than a few hours. In between bouts of nightmares I’d sit on the edge of the bed, try not to pay any attention to my ghosts as they hung out in the front room, calling out my name every once in a while just to shake me up. Time to change partners, I knew, but how to do it? Until the year before it’d have been a simple enough matter to hop on the train to Montreal and scoot up to the border, get off at the last town on the New York side, pay off a fisherman to take you across the river and then lose yourself in the midst of our neighbour to the North. Unfortunately, so many had been taking that route since the war escalated that the borders were clamped down tight. Mexico? Back in the fifties, maybe, but they were too keen on making sure nobody used the drugs they produced in-country, and that would have made for rough going while I tried to get back on my feet. Back to Seattle? Nothing for me there, not any more. Mom and Dad both gone and the place had changed too much since they’d built the nuclear plant on Vachon. Europe? The Commie cheese shop was as close as I wanted to get to our Soviet neighbours, and where the Reds didn’t control the turf the Nazis still did.

  Africa? Took a different kind of passing, to get by there. But if I could get to Hawaii, there were boats that went around the Pacific; and outside of Vietnam, the state of flux the other former Japanese territories were in was somewhat more hospitable to strangers – the Phillipines, perhaps, or Fiji; or Nauru. Move somewhere and become the Guano King. The more I thought about it, the more possible it seemed –

  But as ever the old problem of funding came immediately to mind. At the moment I had about a thousand bucks; that’d buy the ticket, but I needed more. I got up around five; walked into the music room. Looked around at my shelves, at the collection. Jim’d buy it, that was for certain; but that’d also be a certain giveaway that I was planning to skip; and even if I left them for a while, I couldn’t imagine losing them forever. There was only one of me, sure; but with half my records, there was only one of them, as well, and I was too used to serving as cultural custodian, keeping them all safe and sound until the day when they might be appreciated – more to the point, when the people who made them would be appreciated, finally, for what they did and for who they were.

  Granted, in this country I figured that’d be a pretty long wait.

  I sat in my chair until close to nine the next morning, my ghosts keeping me company in both of my front rooms, in form both evanescent, and flat, black, and shiny. A little after nine, Trish called.

  We met at noon at the fountain in the middle of Roosevelt Centre at Broadway and 66th. ‘Let’s chat and sip,’ I said, taking her arm and leading her toward the café in Alma Mahler Hall.

  ‘You’re such a charmer,’ Trish said. ‘You look awful. What were you up to last night? Your tag team show up and start tossing you around the ring?’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I said. ‘Money worries.’

  She laughed. ‘Let me take those off your mind.’

  Once inside, in the café area, we ordered up the old mocha java. I needed a triple dose bad; as soon as the first cup was drained I signalled the waiter for seconds and thirds. At that time of day we were surrounded by music matrons decked out in heavy matinee frou-frou, tapping their biscuits with white gloves to shake the crumbs loose before downing them. Every so often I caught some of the grouchier ones eyeballing me like they suspected me of sneaking around, waiting for the right moment to make off with the Stradivari.

  ‘I never thought you’d agree,’ she said. ‘When Burt called, I told him I’d give it a try but –’

  ‘You say they’ll slip me the cabbage on the premises?’

  She nodded, brushing away her own crumbs. ‘Ten thousand. You can get them that much?’

  ‘What I have on hand’s a little stronger than mescaline,’ I said. ‘But they’ll be able to make it stretch. What is this thing tonight, anyway?’

  ‘They have these public get-togethers once in a while. Invite people in to get a taste of the treatment. They won’t be giving them any of what you’ll be bringing along, of course.’

  ‘Could be hazardous if they did,’ I said, thinking of the one meeting of theirs I’d glimpsed. ‘They’ll need to dilute it. I can provide full details once I make the trade. Will I give it to him? He didn’t look like he could keep two things on his mind at once without practice –’

  ‘Don’t be cruel,’ she said. ‘Poor Burt, he’s deeply into this. I haven’t seen him for a month. I think the only reason he called me was because he remembered you. After you met I filled him in on your hobbies, since I remembered how useful you’d been to the Dynamos in the past –’

  ‘Muchas thankas,’ I said. ‘This is a real life preserver, it really is.’

  ‘You that much behind?’

  I shook my head. ‘Trish, listen. I may be going away for a while. Things have come up.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Things that make me think I’d better go away for a while.’

  ‘Business or pleasure?’ she asked, smiling.

  ‘Nothing fun about it,’ I said. ‘Not till I get there, at least. I’ll let you know, roundabout, once I’m settled.’

  ‘Settled? Are you moving? Walter, is something wrong?’

  ‘No, no,’ I said, knowing she knew I was lying; that made it easier. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Walter –’

  ‘Valentine,’ I said, caught by surprise. Jim had just walked through the door of the hall, and was shuffling slowly toward the ticket booth. He’d shaved, wore one of those blue blazers with the pocket crest, and had pressed and spitshined to within an inch of his life. If it hadn’t been for the hair, and the walk, I didn’t think I’d have ever recognized him. He picked up some tickets, it looked like; as he turned, I waved my arm, and caught his attention. He started toward us. Trish turned to look; didn’t seem attracted or disgusted when she circled back my way.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Friend of mine,’ I said. ‘Surprised that he’s out in public. Usually, he stays in his store –’

  ‘Store?’ she repeated.

  ‘He’s a record guy.’

  Her face fell like a rock. ‘Really?’ she asked. ‘He’s got the build. Looks like he bathes occasionally, at least.’

  ‘He’s very well groomed, considering.’

  ‘He looks familiar, somehow,’ she said. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Jim –’ I said, but stopped myself before I provided ID. As he made his way between the tables he stuck out his hand before he reached us. For a second I pictured him standing outside a factory gate in New Hampshire, trying to get any one to stop and take a button.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘My brother got me some tickets,’ he said. ‘Ring cycle starting in May. I was picking them up.’

  ‘What’s with the old school drag?’ I asked. ‘Don’t you have any of those pants with the little whales on them? I thought those were required with these jackets.’

  He made a face. ‘Don’t wear ‘em. You dress right when you come to places like this.’ Both he and Trish looked over my standard wear, black pants, white shirt, black leather jacket.

  ‘Well. Some of us do, anyway.’

  ‘Jim, Trish.’ I said, laughing. ‘Trish –’

  ‘A pleasure,’ he said, grabbing her hand, shaking it up and down as if trying to pump the well dry. She made an expression that reminded me of a smile.

  ‘Have a seat.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, and as he plumped himself down in an unoccupied chair he managed to bump against the table, which bumped against my knee, which caused me to spil
l half my third cup of percolations into my lap. Luckily, it had cooled off and I suffered no traumatic burns to delicate areas. ‘Walter, I’m sorry –’

  ‘No trouble,’ I said, standing, shaking off excess drainage. The waiters looked at me but didn’t seem anxious to assist. The biddies made with the glares and I sat down again. Walter seemed to be working himself up to saying something else, but before he had a chance he managed to shift his elbow onto his coffee spoon, flipping it into the air. It sounded like a whole drawer of cutlery hit the floor when it landed, the joint was so damn hush-hush. Good thing he didn’t go out much; seemed like he could do more damage than a Gatling gun without even trying.

  ‘Walter says you’re deep into the record game,’ Trish said. ‘Bad as he is?’

  ‘Worse, I think.’

  Her eyes shone like an anaconda’s, spotting a warthog. Something about him appealed to her baser instincts, I could tell – she’d never minded looks as long as the attitude was there, and Trish had the perceptions of a shrink when it came to sizing people up. Valentine knew what she was making of Jim, but she seemed to like it.

  ‘Hey, Walter,’ he said, grinning; at the sight of those teeth, little wheels seemed to click in Trish’s head. ‘You having a party or what?’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘Over there. Going to introduce me this time or just mix it up?’

  Still damp in the lap, I turned around and I saw Eulie and Chlojo, strolling across the big room, looking like they were trying to figure out how to reach the loge. My sweet petite wore a sleeveless black dress that stopped at an agreeable distance above her knees, and shiny leather boots. Chlo, ever stylish, wore a black jumpsuit, baggy as a bus driver’s; except bus drivers tend not to favour fabric that resembles rubber when you face left and snakeskin when you face right. Her own boots and gloves – also black – were comparatively understated, except they would have been big on Jersey Joe Walcott. The waiters didn’t look like they wanted any part of these customers, and vanished behind the bar.