by Mae Argilan
"I could use a drink," he said. "Just as small shot of whiskey. Don’t look so shocked. Excuse me, but I never saw a corpse before. It made all my body hair stand on end. Is that why you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Forget it. You don't have a drinking problem, and even if you did it wouldn't be connected to your high-stress career-driven lifestyle."
Glenn smiled. "I keep my hooch under the sink with the drain cleaner. Help yourself. Personally, I like the idea of hot chocolate. I think I need a sugar fix."
"You are a gastronomic nightmare."
"I'm my own worst enemy."
"That remains to be seen." Geoff looked at the loot on coffee table.
"I'm gonna get into my work clothes. Would you mind putting the kettle on?"
"You want marshmallows with that?" Geoff asked.
"What do you think?"
Glenn returned wearing loose-fitting jeans and a pink and black checked flannel shirt open over a black tanktop. A pair of pink socks slouched around her ankles.
"Here's my idea," she called, rummaging through her medicine chest. "We label everything."
She came out of the bathroom with adhesive tape, and a sharpie. She put the end of the marker between her teeth, and bit off the cap. Then, she handed it to Geoff, and dug up the kitchen shears. She watched a few seconds of each video, ejected it, put on a piece of tape, handed it to Geoff, and said, ‘bath vanity’, or ‘bedroom’, until all were labeled.
"Explain to me again. Why are we doing this?" Geoff asked.
"Because," she said, straightening the stack. "We need help getting through these. We'll keep the audio tapes, and take the videos to Shane. I've got a plan."
"Is it a good one?"
"You tell me."
Glenn used her fax to send a message to Shane. Geoff frowned as he read it.
"Why do you want him to order groceries from the corner store?"
"So they won't be suspicious when we show up." She got a brown bag from under the sink, and popped it open. "You ready?"
Geoff loaded the cassettes into the paper bag while she scribbled a note to Shane. "I guess so." Geoff shrugged into his jacket. "After all, weare the sports car."
Glenn laced up her high tops and placed a box of Fruit Loops on top of the brown bag where they would be visible. They moved quickly, afraid if they didn’t, they’d lose their nerve. If they’d have been a few seconds slower they would have heard the ee-eep of the fax machine, and read Shane's warning. ‘Scanello's closed for midnight Mass. Plan B?’
The way Geoff drove, it only took 15 minutes to get to Bethesda.
"Stop here," Glenn said. "His house is on the next block."
Geoff steered into a spot that said 'No parking here to corner'. "See anything?"
Glenn raised the camera, and telescoped down both sides of the block. "They could be anywhere. You sure you want to do this?"
"Actually, it's kind of fun."
"If you say so. All you do is ring the bell," she said.
"I know what to do. When someone comes to the door, I make sure it's Shane, and then give him the ‘groceries’."
"But, if it’s not Shane?" she asked.
"I pull the plug."
"Put the baseball cap on, and shove your hair up under it. Looks good. Orioles, huh?"
"Yep, gotta love dem O’s."
"Pull it down as far as you can. Better put the bill in the back. Oh, the note."
"Jeez, what a nag. What do I look like?"
Glenn eyed him. "Actually, like a delivery boy." She took a deep breath. "Just remember, don't give the note to anybody but Shane."
Geoff looked at her for a moment, then reached up, and pointed to the side of his face. "Right here. For luck."
"What are you talking about?"
"C’mon, give me a smooch, right here. I’m about to go into battle for you. The least you can do is give me a kiss for luck. That’s not asking too much. Now, plant it right here."
"Battle? For me?"
"For all we know I could go out there, and get shot down like a dog in the street. It’s a time-honored tradition for his lady fair to give her errant knight a kiss for luck. I’m not making this up. You can check it out for yourself in the history books."
"If I thought there was any chance of you being in any real danger I wouldn’t let you do this. Besides, I’m not real big on tradition, in case you hadn’t noticed."
"That’s right, you’re into that whole role-reversal gig, aren’t you? Okay, have it your way. You don’t have to kiss me. I’ll kiss you."
He moved quickly, scooping her head in his hand, and pressing his lips to hers. After a second, he pulled back a little, then tilted his head, and kissed her more softly. He changed positions again, and melted her resistance with a long, slow, intimate kiss.
"There," he said, opening his eyes. "Now, I feel lucky."
"I’m so glad. Anything else I can do for you while you’ve got me here?"
"Nope, I think that’ll do it for now. Oh, maybe one other thing, now that you mention it." He massaged the back of her neck with his hand. "It’s also supposed to be good luck to rub the head of a bald chick."
"Shut up. I am not bald, you freak show."
"Come on, you know you want it." He buffed the top of her head with his knuckles.
She seized his hand. "You want luck? You’ll be lucky to get out of this car alive if you don’t knock it off."
"Hey, I don’t make up the rules, I just try to enforce them." He took the shopping bag from her, and opened the car door. "Don’t go away, wild thing. I’ll be right back, and we can pick up where we left off."
Before Glenn could say anything else, he sprang out of the car. She watched through her lens as Geoff strolled down the sidewalk. When he got to the townhouse he stopped, and glanced down the street. Then, he climbed the steps, and pushed the buzzer. The townhouse door opened. Glenn stuck her foot out on the curb, adjusted the camera, and steadied her elbows on the car door. A man in a red and green sweater stepped onto the porch. Something was wrong. She left the car for a better look.
Geoff glanced in her direction, then said something to Shane. Shane looked toward Glenn, who was advancing. He pushed Geoff away, stepped back into the house, and slammed the door. Geoff stood for a moment hugging the shopping bag, then ran down the steps. Two men came out of the darkness. One was directly across the street. The other was moving across the road to the right. Geoff made it to the bottom step, and saw Glenn coming toward them.
"Go! Run!" he yelled.
She stopped, and lifted the camera to her eye—a small, over-coated woman with a camera where her face ought to be.
"Hold it, buddy." The man reached the curb, and stood with an arm extended like a traffic cop.
"What do you want? Who are you?" Geoff asked.
"I just want to ask a couple of questions. Come along quietly, and nobody has to get hurt."
Geoff took two steps away. Whatever he did, it had to be now, and it had to be fast. He might only get one chance. Concentrating on the man in front of him, he dropped the bag to the pavement, and found his balance. Glenn's voice cut through the air.
"It's him!"
The large man lifted his arms like a linebacker, and rushed forward. It was one of the men from Union Station. Geoff lashed out with agility, and fierceness. His knee came up, and he executed a textbook front kick, finding the man's solar plexus. Without putting his foot down he positioned for a thrusting backward kick. But, the man on the right made a small maneuver, and avoided most of the force of his heel. He took Geoff's right arm with him as he twisted away, grabbing the elbow, and forcing it behind his back. Geoff turned into it, raised his left arm, and back-fisted him in the nose. There was a muffled crunch, and a grunt, and the man covered his face with both hands. Geoff snagged the paper sack with one hand, and sprinted.
"Get to the car!" he yelled, waving Glenn back.
There was a flap of her coat tails, and she was on her way. A few st
eps later a wall took shape, and stepped out of the shadows.
"Got you," he said.
Glenn saw his face, and felt iron fingers manacle her neck. Her scream became a gurgle, and then it strangled in her throat.
11
A man leaped from a parked car. He had something in his hand, some kind of club that he raised. Geoff lifted his arms over his head in an X. He absorbed the blow, rotated his inside hand, grabbed the man's wrist, and pulled. As the arm straightened Geoff pulled back, preparing to break it above the elbow. But, the attacker threw a left cross with his free hand, and it glanced across Geoff’s cheekbone. The club went up again, and Geoff’s only defense was to shield his head. He watched as the billy club hammered his arm. The pain was excruciating, and the bitter taste of bile filled his mouth.
Geoff dropped to one knee, cradling his injured arm. The nausea was dizzying, but he tried to ignore it, and watch for an opening. The nightstick went up, and the assailant's right side was suddenly exposed. Geoff saw it as if in a spotlight, as if it were introduced by a phantom announcer,Ladies and Gentlemen, The Ribcage . Geoff gritted his teeth, and kicked upward. His foot made contact. He felt the chest collapse, and heard the ribs snap, like twigs under a carpet of leaves. The club clattered to the sidewalk, and Geoff scooped it up.
Glenn was struggling with the other one, and Geoff went after him. The man let go of her, and lunged. There was the silvery flash. Geoff aimed for it with the nightstick. The knife swept past Geoff’s midsection, tearing his shirt, and opening a slit in his side. He felt the sting as warm moisture wept through his skin. He clubbed the inside of the attacker's right knee as an after-thought, but it was ill-timed. Geoff spun around to face the knife again. He was still off balance.
His opponent sensed it. His lips curled into a half-smile, half-sneer as he made another lunge. From behind, there was an explosion of light, and the man flinched away. Geoff didn't have time to figure out what had happened. The billy club cut through the air, coming down like an ax above the man’s thumb. The wrist splintered like a rotten branch. Geoff spun on his heel.
"Glenn?"
He heard Glenn’s voice as if from a well.
"Come on. I've got the bag."
Blinded by headlights, Geoff held his uninjured arm over his eyes, and made for the voice. Glenn drove toward him, and he limped into the passenger seat. Then, she sped toward the interstate. Geoff leaned back, breathing hard, his arm throbbing.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Glenn said. "Where am I going?"
Geoff looked at her clinging to the steering wheel with tight, white fingers, her eyes wide. He was reminded of a wounded bird he'd rescued once. The camera was still around her neck.
"Do we dare go to my place?" she asked. "What is going on anyway? What in the hell is going on?"
"Shane knew they were there."
"He would have warned me."
"He tried."
"No, I mean before we came out here. What a mess."
Geoff looked out the window. "Mezzarot road. Get on Mezzarot."
"What?"
"My dorm. They don't know about it. Christmas break. We won't run into anybody." Geoff pressed his shirt to his side. It was wet and cold, and the fabric was getting stiff. "I'm bleeding."
"You are? Did you get knifed? How bad?"
"Not bad," he said, and grinned. "Only a flesh wound."
"Another one of your lunatic moves."
"You're welcome," he said.
"I thought he missed you. I shot my flash, and I thought it stopped him."
"Huh? The light. I thought it was gunshot."
"I had to wait until he was facing me. I thought it was a pretty good idea."
"It was. He got me on the first pass." He groaned. "I can't believe it. I'm fighting for my life, forour lives, and you're taking pictures. Unbelievable."
"I wasn't. But, I should have. That is so unprofessional. A real photographer would have kept her wits about her. I don't belong in this business."
"But, you did. I saw you. When you yelled. In front of the house."
"Oh, that. I was using the lens to watch your meeting. When you told me to split I took a peek." She shook her head. "I'm an embarrassment to my profession. What a great photo op. I could kill myself."
Geoff wiggled his fingers, and flexed his wrist. "I don't think it's broken. Hurts like mad, though." He inhaled. Ribs seemed intact. "Oh, crap, look at that. They ruined my favorite T-shirt."
"I wish I’d gotten pictures of you. That was amazing. I didn't know you knew karate. Is that what that was?"
"That's what it was supposed to be. I've studied martial arts since I was a kid, but I never use it outside the classroom. Who were those guys?"
"I recognized the big fella," Glenn said.
"Yeah, Shoulders, from Union Station," he said.
"What did he say to you?"
"Shane?"
"No, the big guy, Shoulders. I thought he said something to you."
"Oh, something about questions. He didn't want anybody to get hurt."
"Maybe not, but those other two meant business."
"I wonder if they were together," Geoff said. "If the second group was their back-up? They were aiming to make us extinct."
"The one who grabbed me could have opened my carotid artery in a heartbeat."
"If he wanted. Which means he didn't want to. So, they wantedme dead, andyou alive?"
"I don’t understand any of this. Except that I owe you my life. If you hadn't been there..."
"Think nothing of it, little lady," he said.
Glenn smiled at him. "That's the worst John Wayne I’ve ever heard."
"Take Piney Branch to Adelphi. We'll go in that way." Geoff waved his finger toward the windshield, and changed positions. "Man, that hurts. Now that the numbness has worn off."
"I'm going to get some stuff from the drug store, and don't try to talk me out of it."
Glenn pulled into a shopping center. Revco was open. She purchased gauze, hydrogen peroxide, ace and butterfly bandages, and aspirin. Then, she went next door to a liquor store, and bought a quart of overproof rum and a six-pack of Coke. Geoff was staring up at the dome light when she returned. All the life seemed to have drained out of him.
"Radio," he said. "Tune in the news."
"Think they’ll mention Bleetz?"
"Photographer gets cooked in his own tub. Sounds like news to me."
They were in the student parking lot by the time the update came on. The announcer gave the details. Phil Bleetz, nationally known photographer and Pulitzer Prize winner, was found dead in his Prince George's studio apartment. There was a brief biography. Then, the statement that the police were investigating, but it appeared to be suicide.
"Suicide?" she said.
"That must be what they're telling the press."
"You know what's sad? Nobody will care. There's no widow or children. That's sad, isn't it? What kind of life is that?"
Geoff nodded. "Makes you think."
"How tragic to go through life without making a ripple. To leave the world without leaving a hole."
"Nature abhors a vacuum," he said.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"I think it means I'm delirious."
"Can you walk? I'll carry this stuff, but I can't carry you."
"Head for Byrd Stadium."
Glenn put her nose in the air. "Can't smell it without a game going on. No hot dogs, no perspiration. I'm trying to be amusing, to get your mind off your pain."
"Keep trying." Geoff inhaled. "Ah, the cold air feels good. Look at you. You look like a Sherpa. Let me carry something."
"Oh, I forgot. Only a flesh wound. Here, take the Coke. Are you warm enough? Don't want you to catch your death."
"I don't intend to die from the cold. When I go, I'm going to go out in a blaze of glory. How do you want to go?" he asked.
"I want to go like a Jedi Knight, like Yoda. You live a jillion years, and then just fade away.
Then, I’d go around haunting people. What do you think would be the worst way to die?"
"Never thought about it," Geoff said.
"I want to go fast. Suicide would be bad. You dwell on it. Then, at some point, there must come a moment’s hesitation when you think to yourself, ‘this was a bad idea’. At least, that the way it seems to me."
Geoff’s dormitory was cold and empty, and they made their way up to the third floor, and his room.
She said, "I don't want to hear any arguments. Drink this Coke out of the bottle down to about the top of the label." While he did that, she cracked open the rum. "This is pure alcohol, it'd eat away your insides if you consumed it undiluted. It will kill the pain…if it don't kill you first. Not really kill it, you just won't care about anything." She filled the Coke bottle with the rum, and swished it around. "That should water it down, and still give you a buzz. Go ahead. Sip, swallow, sip. This is not lite beer." She removed his blood-caked shirt, and he wilted like a limp wash rag. "I'm not crazy about blood."
"Sit down. I'll do it."
"I've got it. Once we wipe away the blood, it won't be bad."
Glenn cleansed the wound, then held the stained gauze away from her like a squished cockroach. She put it in the trash, and returned to Geoff who was guzzling the Coke. She packed the wound, and held it in place by wrapping an ace bandage around him.
"Not bad, if I do say so myself. How does it feel?"
"Good." Geoff looked at the bandage, and touched his side. "I feel like a mummy. Don't be afraid. I won't haunt you. Have I had enough to drink?"
"How do you feel?"
"Woozy. I think I've had enough."
"How about your arm? It's starting to bruise. Maybe I should wrap it. We ought to have a cold compress, but we don’t have any ice."
"It's not broken. But, could have a hairline fracture I 'spose," he said.
She wrapped his right forearm, then stepped back to look at her handiwork. "Better put a clean shirt on. Where do you keep them?"
"I'm going to lie down now."
"That's a good idea."
Glenn helped him under the covers, then stepped back. He looked so peaceful. She could only imagine what that must feel like. She started pacing the floor, then stopped to look out the window. She took another turn around the room, then perched on Geoff’s desk, drew her feet up on the chair, and wrapped her wrists around her knees. When the silence became unbearable, she took a couple of drags on the Coke. Then, she capped it, and placed it out of reach.