Gia opened the door. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
“Where have you been?”
“Here and there.”
“But you were gone so long! You said you’d only be an hour!”
“I know. Things got complicated.”
“I was getting worried.”
“Can I spend the night?”
Gia burst into tears.
Jack said, “Is that a no?”
She grabbed him and pulled him into the foyer where they clinched.
She sobbed against his chest. “I can’t lose you!”
“Well, I’m not gone yet. The lady in the size-forty dress hasn’t started her song yet.”
Jack didn’t know if his half-formed plan had any chance of working, but if it did, she’d never sing.
At least not Jack’s tune.
* * *
12
-33:22
Tom watched the guy step out of the bodega doorway and approach the cab. When he recognized Tom he flashed his Leon Spinks smile.
After last night’s uptown sortie, Kamal had offered his cell number. He said Tom could call anytime, and if he was on duty—which was most of the time—he would take Tom back to the bodega.
Tom was glad he’d taken the little slip of paper. He’d dug it out of his pants pocket and made the call.
After being all but kicked out of Gia’s this morning, he’d aimlessly wandered around the city. When he finally returned to the apartment he’d found the Lilitongue floating in Jack’s bedroom. He’d closed the door. Couldn’t stand to look at it.
He needed a lift. A big one.
“Lose your girlfriend again?” said the bodega man.
“Yeah, and it’s got me down.”
“Want me to find her again?”
“No, I think I need someone different tonight.”
“I know all sort of girls. What kind you like?”
“Someone to lift my spirits. She changes her name all the time. Last time I saw her she was going by a name that began with E, but she might have changed it to something that begins with X.”
“Ah, yes. I know such a one.”
Tom held up a fifty. “Will this do?”
“Yes. That good for two.”
“Two?”
That Spinks smile again. “Okay, since you are repeat customer, I give you three.”
Tom hadn’t been trying to haggle. He’d taken E a few times in the early nineties and had paid about fifty a tab. He’d liked the feeling, but not the emotional drop after the drug wore off.
As the man snatched the fifty he said, “You want else? We got other letters—A, MJ from TJ—and we got weather—snowflake and purple rain—and we got baseball, roofies, and Georgia Home Boy.”
Pretty much the same patter as last night.
“Just the girl.”
After that it was more déjà vu. A little talk into a two-way, then a jogging kid—different one from last night—tossing an envelope through the window.
Tom had swallowed one of the tabs before Kamal’s cab reached the end of the block.
By the time they reached the Upper West Side Tom was cruising. Waves of warmth and relaxation washed over him. The African music on Kamal’s radio that had bugged him on the uptown trip now sounded beautiful and perfect. Tiny bubbles swam in his vision, as if he were looking at the world through a glass of champagne.
Instead of going straight back to Jack’s, he had Kamal drop him off near where Broadway cut across Columbus Avenue. As he moved through the milling crowd he felt wonderful. So connected to all these strangers, connected to the point where he wanted to climb atop a lamppost and shout out his love for all of them.
Jesus God, when was the last time he’d felt this good about the world, about himself?
War, poverty, crime, violence, terrorism all so far away. So was Jack’s predicament. Even though he loved even Jack tonight—and really loved Gia—he couldn’t get worked up about his impending “escape.” The world, existence, were all too wonderful to allow anything really bad to happen.
Everything would be all right, everything would work out for the best.
* * *
WEDNESDAY
-22:42
Jack tried to focus on the newspaper but the words didn’t make sense. When he realized he’d been through the same paragraph three times without understanding it—and this was the Post—he slapped it down on Gia’s kitchen table.
Less than a day until launch. For Gia’s and Vicky’s sakes he’d wanted to keep everything as normal as possible. Hadn’t expected it to be easy, but it was proving impossible.
Especially after checking himself in the bathroom mirror this morning and seeing the ends of the Stain under his pecs… less than six inches apart.
Vicky barreled into the kitchen.
“Jack! What are we getting Mommy for Christmas?”
The question stunned him.
“Christmas?”
She rolled her big blue eyes. “It’s on Friday, silly!”
“Jeez, that’s right. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”
With everything else going on, it had been drop-kicked from his consciousness.
His heart sank. He wouldn’t be here for Christmas, wouldn’t be able to lounge by the fire as he’d done last year and watch Vicky tear into her presents.
“We haven’t even bought the Christmas tree yet!”
Jack cleared his thickening throat and slapped the side of his head.
“You’re right! What were we thinking? Let’s get right on it.” He lowered his voice. “And while we’re out we’ll find Mommy a present too.”
“Neat! Let’s go!”
Jack shook his head as he watched her run to the hall closet. Vicky did everything at top speed. His throat clenched again. Christ, he was going to miss her as much as Gia.
His cell phone rang.
“Joey?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Psychic. What’s up?”
“You know that pay-as-you-go phone you acquired yesterday?”
“Yeah? Learn anything?”
“Did I ever. All but four calls were local, mostly to the Center. The others were all to the city.”
“Does that help us?”
“They were made at seven A.M. exactly two weeks ago today. Guess where to?”
Joey seemed to enjoy playing his guess-what-I-got? game, but Jack had no patience for it.
“Come on, Joey, spit it—” And then it dawned. That was the morning Wrath of Allah claimed credit for the massacre. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly. ABC, NBC, CBS, and the Times. Four in a row, bing-bang-boom.”
That clinched it. Some of the blood Charlie had seen on Hamad Al-Kabeer’s hands was Dad’s.
Instead of an explosion of murderous rage, Jack felt only crushing depression. His energy seemed to drain away, leaving him empty, mute, immobile.
Such a waste, such a futile, hollow waste of life. These fanatics murdering innocents in the name of their vain, puerile, cold-blooded god.
Jack realized that they weren’t the only irrational, unreasonable force impinging on him. The Lilitongue was another.
But the Lilitongue was immune to physical force.
Not so the Wrath of Allah.
“Yo, Jack. You still there?”
“Yeah, Joey. Still here.”
“For a minute there I thought we got cut off. So anyways I’m thinking of heading over to that place and, you know, bring along some exterminating equipment and maybe clean out a nest of cockroaches. Whatta y’say? You up for a little of that?”
If circumstances had been different, if the shadow of the Lilitongue hadn’t been looming over him, Jack would have been more than up for a little of that. But now, with every moment so precious…
But then, his plan had no hope of working without his returning to Paterson. And if it did work, the hours spent there would be well worth it. He might remove both blots on his life with one move.
His spirits lifted.
“Yeah. I could get into playing Orkin man for a while. Let’s just make sure we have the right bugs.”
“We do.”
“But I want some answers first.”
“You ain’t alone. I got lots of questions.”
“Okay. You have floor plans of the place?”
“Uh, no.”
“You put somebody out to watch it?”
A pause, then, “No. I’m handling this on my own.”
Swell.
“That means we’ll be going in blind.”
“Yeah, but so what?” His tone turned defensive. “Look, Jack, you want to sit on the sidelines—”
“I’ll be there. If I don’t do it now…”
“You sound like you’re on a clock.”
Say what you might about Joey, but like all successful grifters he had a gift for reading people.
“You could say that. Pick me up? Same time, same place?”
Joey laughed. “And in the same rolling piece of junk. But let’s make it later. I checked the paper. Sundown’s four twenty-nine. So whyn’t I pick you up around a quarter to four. That way it’ll be getting dark when we show up.”
Jack said, “Sounds like a—wait. Just thought of something. I can’t very well stand in front of the UN with the tools of the trade.”
“Not to worry, buddy. I’ll put together a two-man toolbox. See you then.”
Jack cut the connection and stared at the phone. Now he had to figure a way to tell Gia that he was going to leave her for a few of the hours they had left together.
* * *
-22:13
“Come on, Jack!” Vicky said in a stage whisper.
She stood in the hall with her coat already buttoned, raring to go.
“We can’t leave without telling your mother.”
“Telling your mother what?” Gia said, coming down the stairs.
She wore jeans and a navy blue wool sweater over a white T-shirt. She looked pale and haggard; dark circles rimmed her eyes.
She looked how Jack felt.
“We’re going out to get a Christmas tree.”
Gia stopped midstep and paled further. “Oh, God. Christmas.”
Jack stared up at her. “Yeah, I know. Kind of slipped my mind too.”
Gia chewed her upper lip a second, then said, “Vicky, would you do me a big favor and get my car keys from the guest room? I think I left them there.”
Jack and Gia had spent the night there. Gia hadn’t wanted to stay in the same room where the Lilitongue had been, and neither had Jack. They’d clung to each other in the dark, dozing for brief, fitful stretches.
“Sure.”
Vicky hit the steps running as Gia reached the floor. She watched her daughter until she was out of sight, then moved close to Jack.
“I don’t have any Christmas spirit,” she whispered. “None. And I don’t know if I can fake it.”
“We’ve got to.” Jack glanced up at the top of the stairway. “For her.”
“I know, I know but…” Her lips trembled as her composure began to crumble. “I just don’t think I can.”
Jack gathered her into his arms. “You can. You’re strong.”
She sobbed. “I thought I was, but… I’m not. And how am I ever going to explain this to Vicky?”
Jack tried to steer her away from where she was going.
“Hey, do you think you could stir up another batch of that Stain oxy-clean gunk for me?”
Gia pushed back and stared at him. “Why? What for?”
“On the chance I might find someone who’d be interested in escaping something.”
“What something?”
Me, he wanted to say, but didn’t.
“I’m working on it.”
“Jack, I don’t understand. Even if you find someone willing, it won’t work. The Stain can be transferred only twice. You know that. The book—”
“I’ve never been one to believe everything I read. But I can’t put it to the test without the gunk.”
“I-I saved it.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess because throwing it away would be like throwing hope out the window.”
“Yeah… hope.”
He was low on hope, and running out of time. But he had to give this a shot.
Gia said, “How are you going to find this person before…?”
“Going on a little trip this afternoon.”
“You’re not leaving us, are you? There’s so little time as is.”
“Yeah, but if this works out we’ll have tons of time.”
“But how—?”
Vicky came bounding down the stairs.
“I can’t find the keys, Mom.”
Gia’s smile looked forced. “Silly me. I must have left them in my coat pocket.”
“Are we going, Jack?” Vicky said.
“Sure, if it’s okay with your mother.”
Gia opened the closet door. “I’m coming with you.”
Vicky did her eye roll. “But Mah-om, we have to buy something.”
“That’s okay. You two can make a little side trip if you want, but there’s no way I’m staying here alone.” Her eyes bored into Jack’s. “I want to spend every precious second I can with you.”
Jack winked at Vicky. “You up for a little side trip, Vicks?”
She did her best to wink back. “Oh, yes!”
Jack swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. How was he going to tell her that after tonight she’d never see him again?
* * *
-16:35
Tom walked back toward Jack’s place at an easy pace. He felt better now that he had some food under his belt. Barbecued spareribs and seafood salad from the buffet in a Korean eat-in deli. Only in New York.
Not much sleep last night. The E had kept him up into the early hours. He’d forced himself out of bed around one and it was after two by the time he’d showered and gone looking for someplace to eat.
What could he call the meal he’d just had? Breakfast? Brunch? A late dinner? An early supper? His clock was all screwed up.
The sight of men and women hurrying by with shopping bags full of wrapped gifts reminded him of how crummy the past few Christmases had been. Buying gifts, especially for the kids, was such a hassle. He didn’t live with any of them and seldom saw them, so he never knew what to get them. Two years ago he’d given up and settled on gift certificates from Amazon. Let them buy whatever they wanted. Not like they appreciated anything he did for them anyway.
He hated to say it but he dreaded the occasions when he got saddled with all three kids at once. Little Tom and Nicole—offspring of Skank from Hell Number One—absolutely hated Donald, their half-brother via Skank from Hell Number Two, and Donald reciprocated with interest. What a nightmare.
Well, this Christmas they’d get nothing-nada-zip from Dear Old Dad. No Amazon certificate. Not even coal in their stockings.
Then what would the ungrateful little—
He turned onto Jack’s block then and stopped as he saw the man himself trot down the steps of his brownstone. He wore a gray coverall under a brown leather jacket and had a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked like a mechanic on his way to work.
Work…
Jack hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about his work. Here was a chance to maybe get a clue as to what this repairman stuff was all about.
Wait. If what the Compendium said about the Lilitongue was correct, then Jack had less than a day left to him. Seemed unlikely he’d visit Gia dressed like that.
So what would be important enough to take him away from Gia at a time like this?
F Paul Wilson - Secret History 03 Page 33