Night of the Jaguar jp-3

by Michael Gruber

  “Yes. I hope he’ll be all right.”

  “And Jenny was being weird and shaking. That was really scary, too. Why was she doing that?”

  “She has a sickness that makes her do that. But don’t worry, your mom will take good care of her.”

  They sat for a while, Paz’s mind a perfect blank. Then Amelia said, “Could we look at the parrot? And I want a Coke.”

  They looked at the parrot. A Coke was found. After some period of innocent fun, which Paz was content to let last for a week, they found a lounger and lay down upon it. All his bones ached. Then Dr. Wise arrived to check on her family. After determining that her daughter was fine, she stood over her husband and said, “You want to tell me what the hell that was all about? Why did you shoot that poor little man?”

  “Because what I saw was a very large jaguar just about to bite our daughter’s head off. What did you see?”

  “What did I…? Jimmy, I saw what was there. We were all sitting around, relaxed after swimming, and this guy strolls out from the dark and Jenny goes over and talks to him like she knew him and the next thing I know, I heard the bow and the guy was lying down with an arrow through him.”

  “How is he, by the way?”

  “Oh, he’ll probably survive-you seem to have missed the heart. He’s got a sucking chest wound. We clipped the arrow, but they’ll have to extract it in an OR. The ambulance is on the way. Christ, how the hell are we going to explain what happened?”

  “Asshole fooling with bow and arrow accidentally shoots friendly visitor from foreign land,” said Paz. “The Miami cops deal with shit like that all the time. I’ll plead guilty, suspended sentence. How’s the redhead?”

  “She’s out of seizure and in her bed in the house. I had some Soma in my bag and fed her a couple of caps, and some Xanax. She’ll be down for hours.”

  “Good,” said Paz, “and so once again pharmaceuticals solve the problem. You know, Amelia saw the jaguar, too.”

  She didn’t quite roll her eyes. “Jimmy, she’s a child. What I don’t like is that you had a hallucination so strong that you nearly killed a human being. Can you understand that? It means you’re not safe. ”

  “Sit down, Lola,” said Paz gently, and she found herself complying. She placed herself at the foot end of the lounger, not touching him. There was something in his eyes, a kind of presence, that she did not recall seeing there before.

  He said, “I’ve been racking my brains on this. Why did he want Amelia? Why was she the sacrifice? And why did he think a sacrifice was necessary? And what was the meaning of what he did and what I did?”

  “Shooting the Indian?”

  “No, I mean my whole involvement in this, becoming made to the orishas, the whole string of events and coincidences that put me in a particular place at a particular time. And, once again, it wasn’t an Indian. It was Jaguar. It was a god or a demigod-a spirit inside an impossible animal. And I see from the look on your face that you’ve completely forgotten the dreams, how you were weeping like a baby because you couldn’t sleep, because Jaguar was in your head telling you stories about how right it was to give your daughter to him, and your whole shelf of drugs couldn’t help you, but a little bag of magic made by an old Cuban lady fixed you up just fine.”

  She felt sweat pop out on her forehead and the hair stood stiff on the backs of her arms and on her neck.

  “Yeah,” he said, searching her eyes, “now you remember. If you want, I’ll take you into the bushes around the pool and you can see the tracks of a huge cat, fresh tracks, and you’ll have to cook up a reasonable explanation for that, too.”

  She said, “So what’s your explanation? Assuming I buy the story.”

  “I don’t have one. That’s my point. Look, the difference between us is that you think that at the fucking absolute innermost heart of the universe there’s an explanation, a calculation, a formula. I don’t. I think that at the fucking absolute innermost heart of the universe there’s a mystery. And we just saw, at the pool just now, and in this whole thing with Moie, an edge of it we don’t usually see, the stuff we’re not usually allowed to see. You’re going to rationalize it away, which is fine, it’s who you are, but I can’t do that. I have to treat it with reverence and look at it with awe. All I can say is, it was a good day. The maiden was saved, and the beast was defeated. Another time it might go the wrong way and I’ll treat that with reverence and awe, too. So are you sorry you married me now? Speaking of the inexplicable.”

  “No,” she said, “I’m not. But could you be like in charge of all that stuff? So I don’t have to ever, ever think about it?”

  He laughed. “Like taking out the garbage.”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  Sirens ensued then, succeeded by paramedics. They whisked Moie off, attended by Lola. After that, the rest of the party, save Cooksey, who had elected to sit with Jenny, drifted back to the patio, where they all had a round of stiff drinks.

  “Well, Paz,” said Zwick, “you really know how to throw a party.”

  Paz looked around the group. “No one noticed anything strange?” he asked. “Everyone just saw me shoot a harmless Indian?”

  “What else were we supposed to see?” asked Beth Morgensen.

  Paz ignored her. He was looking at Scotty, who had the appearance of a man recently kicked in the groin. He wouldn’t meet Paz’s gaze. Another one who saw the impossible and wanted to forget it as soon as he could. The other adults had all been scientifically trained to observe only objectively verifiable phenomena.

  “Come with me, I want to check on something.” He took a four-cell flashlight from the glove compartment of the Volvo and strode rapidly to the path where the being had emerged from the dark. The path was made of coarse oolitic sand, and it did not take long to find a huge paw mark and then another.

  “What do you say to that, Doctors?” he asked.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” said Zwick. “Tell me you didn’t set this all up and shoot that guy with an arrow just to make some stupid point about mystical jaguars!”

  Paz looked around the circle of faces, dim in the side glow of the flashlight, and found no support.

  “Okay, fine,” he said. “I’ll take you guys home.”

  When she opened her eyes, there was Cooksey, and she was glad. She was on her pallet in her old alcove in Cooksey’s quarters, dressed in one of his worn khaki shirts. Cooksey was wearing a dark tracksuit. His face was smeared with black smudges.

  “I seized,” she observed.

  “You did indeed. How do you feel?”

  “Okay. A little sore. Something happened before I went out.”

  “Yes. Jaguar showed up in his glory and pride. He was going to take that little girl, and you very heroically threw yourself in his way. The sacrifice was not made. God alone knows what it all means. Then Mr. Paz shot it with an arrow, and it turned back into our Moie.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “It appears not. Our party coincidentally included two doctors, or perhaps coincidence is no longer the operative word. In any case, he survived. Do you recall any of that?”

  “Sort of. It’s kind of like when you remember a dream. And it wasn’t really Jimmy. I saw…kind of tangled up in him something else, something bigger, a glowing thing, I don’t know what it was. But it was good. And…but Moie is good, too, isn’t he? And Jaguar. He killed those bad guys, and he was only trying to protect his country.” She sighed. “I don’t understand any of this, Cooksey.”

  “No, and I’m not sure whether the kinds of good and bad we see in the cinema are useful concepts here. We are in deep waters, my girl, and we poor scientists are out of our depth. And I’m afraid it’s not over. Issues less cosmic but just as deadly remain for us to resolve.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I expect a visit shortly from the gang that kidnapped you and killed Kevin.”

  “They’re coming here? Because of me?”

  “No, because of Gel
i. They need her to put pressure on her grandfather, because he’s crucial to some criminal scheme of theirs.”

  “But how do they know she’s here? She told me she didn’t tell anyone where she was, not even her mom.”

  “Actually, they know because I called her grandfather’s house and informed the servant who answered the phone. Of course, all the servants have been suborned or threatened, and so I expect the gang leader knew within minutes. They’ve been waiting for us to be alone.”

  “Jesus, Cooksey! Why the hell did you do that?”

  “Because I want to kill them, my dear. All of them. That’s why you see me in my commando togs and face. I’m afraid I’m rather more like Moie than I revealed. These people are the same people involved in the forest cutting that killed my wife.”

  “I thought that was a snake.”

  “Yes, well, I’m sorry to have had to dissimulate there, but a certain security was necessary, and I didn’t want to burden you with the truth. In fact, the timber companies hire thugs to clear the people from the forest before they cut, and in our case it was the Hurtado organization that was responsible. Portia had hired a village to catch specimens for her, and while she was there the place was raided by these people, or those hired by them. Everyone was killed. So, only figuratively was she killed by a snake. I’ve been working toward this evening for a number of years. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “Cooksey, this is crazy, just you and Scotty against all those guys…”

  “Scotty will not be involved. He’s been told to look after Geli. They’re in his cottage with the doors and windows locked and barred, with instructions to call the police if it goes wrong. And he has his shotgun. Meanwhile, we have to keep you safe during the coming fracas. I can shove my big cabinet in front of the entrance to this alcove. It’s not obvious that there’s another room within my office, and I doubt that anyone will come searching for you in any case. It’s Geli they want. As for your door outside-we’ll just have to rely on the lock. It’s going to be dark, of course-I intend to pull the fuses from the mains. This will favor the defender, you see.”

  He rose then and left the little room, returning a moment later brandishing a large black revolver. “My trusty sidearm,” he said, showing his long teeth. “Are you comfortable? Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  He sat on the edge of the pallet. “Then I’m off. In case of the worst, there’s a packet with your name on it in the right-hand drawer of my desk. It has some letters of introduction should you wish to pursue a career in wasp entomology. You should work on your reading, of course, but there are a number of people I know who would be happy to have you in their labs. I’ve made some financial arrangements as well, so you won’t be absolutely destitute, I hope you don’t mind…”

  “Cooksey…”

  “No, no weepies, dear, we haven’t the time for it. And may I say what a pleasure it’s been knowing you these last months, quite the nicest thing that happened to me in a very bleak time. Oh, and you can have myWind in the Willows. ”

  Before she could say a word to him he was out of the room and pushing the high cabinet into place. She lay back on her pillow, cried briefly, and then exhaustion carried her back into sleep.

  El Silencio had prepared for the night’s work as best he could, given the short notice. He had located a contact of Hurtado’s, a small-time dealer who operated out of a derelict trailer park in the south county, and he had taken his men there to run through the operation. The problem was that although he knew the approximate layout of the property, he had no idea where the woman might be when they arrived. He had decided, therefore, to send teams of two to each of the two small cottages, while he and Ochoa waited at the main house. If the woman was in one of the cottages, they’d bring her out; if she was in the house, then the whole group would surround and assault it from several directions. They rehearsed these evolutions in the trailer park until El Silencio was satisfied that his people would not actually trip all over themselves during the real thing. He was not really confident, but he had little choice. Besides, he didn’t think that a woman and a couple of civilians would give them much trouble.

  They arrived at two in the morning, pulling right into the driveway of the property. The gate was not locked, and the place was completely dark and quiet, the only sound being the wind in the foliage and splashing water. El Silencio recalled that there was some kind of pool. The night was clear, with a crescent moon, and with these and the sky glow from the city, there was enough light to walk without stumbling out here, although it would be quite dark on the paths.

  He and Ochoa went through the archway that led to the patio and stood in the shadows while their teams set out on the paths leading to the two cottages. From here they could keep watch on the front door of the main house and also keep the exit from the property under watch. They waited without talking.

  Then an orange flash lit the undersides of the palm fronds above them and then came the BANG, far louder than a gunshot. They saw the glow of a bright fire. Ochoa cursed and ran out. El Silencio heard a high-pitched shrieking, like that of a pig being stuck, mixed with curses and calls for Momma. In a moment, there was another, louder blast, which rattled the palm tops and the windows.

  He heard Ochoa shouting and the sound of footsteps going away. The shrieks died away. Now three loud gunshots, which sounded to El Silencio like.45s. Then silence.

  The gangster moved farther into the dark corner of the patio, sinking down behind a large, covered propane grill cart. It was his principle that when things went to shit, the best thing to do was not to race off as Ochoa had just done, but to remain calm and quiet, to see what would develop. He took out his nine-millimeter pistol and listened. Obviously, someone had planted bombs on the paths, and these had taken out his four men. He hadn’t thought that these people had the skills to do that, but he had been wrong and that was that. Ochoa had just as obviously stumbled into an ambush, yet another argument for staying calm and quiet. He could probably escape himself, but he was reluctant to do this. He had never failed before, and he thought he could still shoot all the people opposing him and take the Vargos woman. He actually preferred to work alone.

  He heard a woman’s voice calling out, and then a man speaking. A door slammed shut. He waited for over forty minutes and was about to stand up and change position when he heard footsteps on a sandy path, then the sound of steps on paving. A thin man of around fifty dressed in black clothes walked past into the patio. El Silencio rose from behind the grill and shot him three times in the back.

  The bombs had awakened Jenny, and she was looking out the window of the door that led from her alcove to the patio, so she saw Cooksey fall. Without thinking she opened the door and darted out. The man was standing over Cooksey’s body. She saw the blood pooling beneath him and let out a cry. The man heard it and turned around, raising his gun. He said something in Spanish and pointed the gun at her. She spun on her heel and ran from the patio.

  El Silencio almost shot the girl but checked himself at the last instant. This was clearly the redhead who had escaped from the garage, and he was intensely curious to find out how she had done that. Also, once he had her, he could make her tell him where La Vargos was. He sped off in pursuit.

  They were on a dark path. She and El Silencio hurdled the slumped and smoking forms of two of his men and then she cut sharply to the left, down a narrower path that rose slightly and changed from coarse sand to rough stone. The sound of rushing water grew progressively louder. He put on more speed. The girl was not more than three feet from him. Suddenly they burst into the open. His shoes clattered on rock. He reached out to grab at her flowing red hair and then he saw her leap into the air and sink out of sight. His feet splashed through water, he tried to slow down, but his thin city shoes slipped on the slick stones and he felt himself falling through the dark.

  It was a fifteen-foot drop to the bottom of the waterfall, and El Silencio fell badly,
suffering a compound fracture of his left arm and numerous deep scrapes on his legs and back from the rough coral rock. The force of the falls sent him deep under the water, but he was a competent swimmer and was able to struggle one-armed to the surface. There he rolled onto his back, and keeping his left arm pressed to his chest, he began kicking to move himself to the edge of the pond. He was thinking about what he would do to this girl when he had her.

  The first piranha hit at his thigh where it bled from its scrape, ripping out a chunk of meat the size of a shot glass. El Silencio made a sound that would have been a scream in a person with normal vocal machinery but emerged as a long rasping yawp. He flapped both arms and sank, and then the whole school was upon him.

  Jenny sat at the shallow end and watched the water churn and churn and grow reddish and then become quiet again. She ran back to the patio. Cooksey was not quite dead yet, but unlike the dying men she had seen in the movies, he did not have any choked last words. She called the police and then sat by him and held his hand while he died. Her tears fell on his face, making clear tracks through the commando paint.

  Jimmy Paz slept fitfully that night, although he observed that his wife was perfectly at rest, and after popping in and out of sleep, he decided to get up and start his new life as a maybe demigod with a cup of coffee. He made a pint of Bustelo in the stove-top hourglass pot and warmed an equal amount of milk in a pan, and when the cafe con leche was ready he took it out to the back patio with a plate of Cuban bread toast, butter, and guava jam. He watched the sky go from pink to cerulean blue, dotted with tiny specks of fleece, and then, to his surprise, the front doorbell rang, and it was Tito Morales.

  “We need to talk,” said the cop. He looked rumpled and frowsy.

  “Want some coffee?” Paz asked amiably.

  Morales did. They sat at the counter in the kitchen while Paz fixed him the same kind of breakfast he had just enjoyed.

  “This is about the Indian, right?” asked Paz as Morales took his first grateful sip.