by S. J. Rozan
“Okay, dudes. Let’s go.”
Lo Shu was speaking low to the tall man, who fixed Linus with a suspicious glare.
“Go where? You got the address?”
“Those Tang poets,” Linus said. “Useful dudes. These two guys have to come with us.”
“Why?”
“Tell you on the way.”
“Wait!” the manager demanded. “What are you doing? You already wasted their time. How can I keep up my deliveries if you take my staff?”
I slid three twenties from my wallet, gave one to each of the two men staying behind and one to the manager. “Tell these guys to ride faster.”
The manager slipped his bill into his pocket. “Slow time of day anyway. All right.” He spoke to Lo Shu and the tall man, and tapped his watch. Lo Shu nodded, but the other man still scowled.
“Tell them,” Linus said to the manager, “they won’t get in trouble with the law, and they’ll get their twenties, too.”
Linus, Trella, and I left the restaurant with the two deliverymen. Just before we took off sprinting Linus stuck his head in the car window and gave Joey the address. Joey pulled out to circle around. We were evidently heading downtown, against the traffic, so we went on foot.
Lo Shu kept grinning, waving his hands around, and talking to the tall guy, who didn’t stop scowling but took out his phone and made a call.
“Why do we need these guys?” I asked as we jogged. “He’s not sure about the address, he has to see the building?”
“No, he knows. And the baby’s there.”
I almost screeched to a halt. “Jesus Christ, are you sure? He saw him when he made a delivery?”
“No. The big guy. Ha Lin.” He pointed. “His wife’s there taking care of him. She speaks English. She can tell you the whole thing.”
Of course. Kevin’s son-to-be, his first prize. Part of the real life that would start as soon as he got rid of me. He wouldn’t have left something that valuable all alone. First he had Lydia taking care of the baby. Now it was another Chinese woman’s job.
“She’s supposed to not let anyone in but Kevin. Lo Shu doesn’t think she’d let him in. But her husband, she will. He just called her, to say we’re coming and not to let Kevin in if he shows.”
“Linus? How did you do this?”
“Took lines from famous poems, you know, that talked about families, losing people, stuff like that.” Linus flushed. “I thought maybe those, plus what the manager told him, I thought maybe he’d get it. Then if he could write back to me in poetry I recognized, and I could write back to him, maybe we could, like, bond, you know? Just so he’d trust me.”
“What made you think he understood classical poetry even if he got what you were doing?”
“Wasn’t sure he did. Wasn’t even sure he could read and write besides ‘orange chicken.’ Most of the illegal guys, they’re peasants. But a lot of them had a whole other life before they came here. Educated, dig, but not in anything anyone cares about in the New China. Or they have, like, political problems, better to not be there? Turns out, back home, Lo Shu was a Beijing opera star.”
Two blocks down and one long block over, Lo Shu, wheezing behind, called us to a halt at a new, wide-windowed building of black steel panels with glossy copper accents, faux industrial, clearly expensive. I told the others to wait outside and gestured to the tall man. Lo Shu spoke to him with an easy grin. The tall man replied with ill humor, but he followed me in.
“Kevin Cavanaugh,” I told the poker-faced doorman. “Eight-L.”
“No Cavanaugh here. Eight L’s Tony Stark,” the doorman corrected me with a superior smirk.
Tony Stark: Ironman. Jesus, Kevin! “Cavanaugh’s staying with him. And Cavanaugh’s wife. In fact she’s the one we want to see. With the baby? This is her brother.”
The doorman narrowed his eyes in indecision, like he wasn’t buying it but he didn’t want to throw us out in case we were legit and Tony Stark got pissed off and didn’t tip him at Christmas. “Hold on,” he ordered. He clicked a button and we saw ourselves on a TV monitor behind him on the wall. He called upstairs, said a few words, and hung up. “Okay. She says go on up.”
The elevator ride was the longest of my life. It took a week to run down the hallway and after I rang the bell it was a month before the door opened. When it did, a thin Asian woman stood in the entryway holding a sleeping blond baby.
She exchanged fast whispered words with her husband, eyeing me suspiciously. After something he said her eyes widened and she covered her mouth in shock. She nodded and put the baby in his arms; he took it the way you would someone’s eggshell collection you hoped they’d come back for soon. Returning inside, she quickly gathered up her things: a handbag, a sweater. Meanwhile I had Kevin’s phone out and was calling Megan.
“Bill? What?” Megan’s rough voice demanded as the door shut behind us and we headed down the hall. “I swear to God, you’d better—”
“I do.”
Silence. “You do? You do?”
“Where are you?”
“You have my baby?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“Oh, my God! Oh, God! I’m— No, wait! How do I know? This could be a trick. How do I know it’s not?”
“Jesus Christ, Megan! Tricks, games, all that shit, I— Forget it. Can you get photos?”
“What?”
“On the phone!”
“Yes. This phone? Yes.”
“We’ll send one in a minute.”
The woman had taken the baby back from her husband, whose relief was obvious. She fixed worried eyes on me as we waited for the elevator. “Baby daddy,” she said uncertainly. “Steals baby?”
“He stole him, but he’s not the daddy.”
She looked at me blankly.
“The baby’s mother’s coming to get him. Do you know where Kevin—where the man who said he was the daddy was going?”
“No. Just, I take care baby, he come back tonight.”
“Did he say anything else?”
She shook her head. “Just, come restaurant two day before, ask me I like baby. Say, good pay, I take day off today, take care son.” Exiting the elevator into the lobby, she gave me a worried look. “In trouble? Ha Lin, me? Lo Shu?”
“No.” In fact, the opposite. When this was over I was going to hire these three the best immigration lawyer in New York. “Linus!” I shouted as we burst onto the street.
“Dude! Oh, awesome!”
“Linus, take a photo, send it to Megan. She wants proof.” I handed him Kevin’s phone. He glanced at it, poked a few buttons, pointed it at the sleeping baby in the woman’s arms. Then he poked some more buttons.
We waited forever. Kevin’s phone rang.
“Megan?”
“Where are you? I’m coming there.”
“Tell me where Lydia is.”
“I want him in my arms. I’m hailing a cab right now. Where?”
“Megan—”
“Where?”
I gave her the address. Then I called Mary.
“Kee.”
“It’s Bill. I’m ready to come in.”
“You are?” Her astonishment was clear.
“We found the baby.”
“What? You did? Where? Is he all right?”
“He seems fine. Megan’s coming here. She doesn’t trust me. When I give her the baby she’ll tell me where Lydia is. Getting her out will be something you guys will do better than I could.”
I expected a dig and I deserved it, but all she said was, “Where are you?”
“West Twenty-sixth Street. Six-two-three. Kevin has an apartment under the name ‘Tony Stark.’ ”
“Ironman?”
“Everything’s a game to him. He may be headed here. Mary, keep your people out of sight until Megan tells me where Lydia is. Don’t spook her.”
I hung up, said to the woman holding Jason, “His mother is coming. You can go if you want. You can give the baby to me.”
&nbs
p; Her husband seemed ready to take off but she stood her ground. They argued briefly; she shook her head, was adamant. “No,” she said to me, clutching the baby to her. “I wait for mama.”
I nodded, turned to Linus and Trella. “Mary’s on the way. When Megan gives us Lydia’s location the cops will get her out. You guys, I think you should stay out of trouble if you can.”
It took a moment for my meaning to dawn. Their eyes met. Trella smiled, like I was sweet but silly. Linus looked as if I’d told him to dance a tango. “Dude! You can’t be serious.”
“Why should you—”
“After all this? I know you don’t mean that.”
I was starting to argue, to tell them to get lost and I’d claim I hadn’t seen them for hours, when a cab pulled up and a pudgy woman jumped out. In the time it took her to cross the wide sidewalk I had flashes: a fat woman in sunglasses in the deep shade, mouth open in a silent scream, outside Jim White’s exploding apartment. A heavy woman elbowing her way through the crowd outside the tailor shop. A stocky woman trotting around the corner as I left my place when this all began. This woman. Megan Stine, fifty pounds beyond the woman I’d known, but I should’ve seen it. Then she was on top of us, her arms out for the baby. Ha Lin’s wife met Megan’s eyes, then smiled and handed the baby to her. Megan clutched him close and started to cry.
“We go now,” Ha Lin’s wife whispered to me. The three of them melted into the crowd on the sidewalk, Lo Shu waving cheerily and calling something to Linus.
“Megan—”
She jumped, stepped back when I spoke. “You bastard! You and Kevin. I ought to kill you for this.”
“Megan, I’m sorry. None of it was my idea. If I could make it up to you I would. Please. Tell me where Lydia is.”
She leaned over Jason, who was fussing, waking up. She spoke softly, kissed him. He opened his eyes, blinked, filled his lungs, and bawled.
“Oh, honey, sshhh.”
“Megan.”
“He’s hungry. Come on, sweetness, Mommy will feed you.” She stepped to the curb to hail another cab. I grabbed her arm. She tried to shake me off but I was locked on.
“Megan! Where’s Lydia?”
“Let me go.”
“You have your baby. Lydia’s still in trouble. Where is she?”
Unable to pull away, Megan stopped struggling, turned to face me. Malice and triumph glowed in her eyes. “You stupid bastards. You and Kevin both. Well, fuck you. How would I know?”
My heart turned to ice. “What?”
“Are you insane? You think Kevin told me anything like that? He didn’t even tell me I was setting off a bomb, or that this was about you. I was his robot, his little machine. I don’t know anything about this bullshit. I don’t know where your girlfriend is. Now let me go.”
Linus and Trella had stepped up behind her. I saw their faces go white. “You said—”
“And you fell for it. Good for me. Come on, would you have given a shit where my baby was otherwise? Would you have looked for him if you didn’t think I could help you? It’s your fault Jason and I got all messed up in this. Sorry about your girlfriend, but it’s not my problem. Let go of me.”
“No. Megan. I—”
“Oh, fuck!” Wild-eyed, she stared up the street. “Are those cops? You son of a bitch! Unmarked cars, oh, you bastard!” She yanked against my grip some more. I turned, saw what she’d seen, three black Tauruses idling up the block. And a Fusion: Mary’s car. Mary jumped out and dodged traffic to reach us.
“Something wrong?”
“Yes!” Megan screeched. “This creep won’t let go of me!”
“Quiet!” Mary ordered her. Megan blinked in disbelief. Mary said, “Bill?”
“She doesn’t know,” I said. My voice was dry, lifeless. “Where Lydia is. She doesn’t know.”
27
Cops and CS techs trotted in and out of Kevin’s building. They bagged shoes to check for one-of-a-kind dirt, pawed through papers for store receipts, parking tickets, anything that might start a trail. Detectives interviewed neighbors, porters, the super, the doorman. Other cops cruised the area in case Kevin was on his way. A Mandarin-speaking officer had been sent for, to question the staff at Grand Hunan. Child Services had taken custody of Jason while Megan, alternately weeping and screaming, was hauled back to the Fifth precinct to answer questions, and the DA decided whether or not to charge her.
All good police work, proper procedure. It would probably yield results.
In the end.
Long after Lydia’s air ran out. After the clock ran down and the whole thing was over. After nothing mattered anymore.
I was under arrest.
Mary had made the collar, fast, and shoved me in the back of her car. She’d scooped up Linus and Trella, too, in the general confusion, stuck them in there with me. I knew not to argue. A guy as wanted as I was, all these cops around, no way she could let me walk.
And where would I have gone?
So here we were, me, Linus, and Trella, in the backseat, Mary up front, with the last of Kevin’s plastic bags, trying to salvage something.
Or that’s what we told ourselves. We sat still and silent, staring at the book, the screw, the photo. Maybe the others were furiously trying out ideas, following paths, putting pieces together in their heads. I was empty. I had nothing. I smoked, looked at the bag and the incomprehensible junk that had come out of it, looked through the windows, looked inside myself. Nothing, anywhere.
Mary’s cop radio kept up a low, staticky stream. Trella and Linus, pressed together, whispered occasionally to each other, then shook their heads. I smoked.
Patino came over, stuck his head in the window, spoke to Mary. I roused briefly—had they found Kevin?—but he walked away and Mary went back to fingering the screw, peering at the photo, turning the pages of the book.
Lighting the fourth cigarette off the butt of the third, I suddenly exploded. “Fuck!” I threw the car door open, climbed out. Mary, maybe thinking I was about to run off, jumped out with me. She had nothing to worry about. If I’d had a direction, I’d have split in a heartbeat. But I didn’t. There was only one place I cared about right now, one place I would have given anything to be, and I didn’t know where that was.
“Bill?” Mary spoke more gently than I expected. That made it much worse.
“No! Don’t talk. Don’t talk to me.” I slammed my fist on the hood. “Fuck!” A couple of cops turned to stare but Mary waved them away. “That motherfucking bastard! No, I know, don’t think about Kevin, think about Lydia. Do something clever, come up with something, fill in the missing clue, goddamn it! I can’t! Goddamn son of a bitch.” I sagged against the side of the car. “Goddamn son of a bitch.”
“Dude?” I hadn’t noticed Linus getting out, but there he was, with Trella, standing beside me. “You were right the first time. Don’t think about Lydia. Think about Kevin. Think like Kevin.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t anymore, Linus. I’m sorry. I’m . . .” What, Smith? Drained? Exhausted? And no one else is? These kids aren’t? Lydia isn’t, wherever she’s sitting, alone, waiting, with the air getting foul? “Shit,” I heard myself say, “I wish I had a drink.”
“No,” said Mary.
“Oh, back the hell off! Yes! I wish I were shit-faced. Falling-down drunk. So fucked up I could forget all this. Not feel it, not even know it. That’s what I wish.”
“Yeah,” Linus said, “like your cop homie, Hal. That’s someone to look up to, for real.”
“Linus, goddamn it! I never wanted anyone looking up to me! That’s not my— I’m not—” I swallowed, shook my head. As though someone were interrupting me, as though there were too much noise, I put out my hands to stop it. I whispered, “Wait. Wait.”
Linus and Mary exchanged looks. “Dude?” Linus asked cautiously. “What?”
“I . . . Hal . . . falling-down drunk . . .” I didn’t know what I meant, kept shaking my head, to clear it. No. Not clear it. Fallin
g-down drunk. “When you and I talked to Hal at his place,” I said carefully, “he was halfway wasted. At the bar, he was far past that. So smashed he couldn’t walk.”
“And?”
“Something he said. State-dependent memory.”
“I don’t remember he said that.”
“No! He didn’t say it. It’s what he was. What he was in.”
Linus glanced at Mary. “Dude, you’re not making—”
But Trella was nodding. “Yes. It’s like, something you learn when you’re, say, terrified, and then it doesn’t come back until you’re terrified again. Or you saw something when you were stoned, and you don’t remember what it was until next time you get stoned.”
“Or you hear something,” I said, “when you’re drunk. So drunk you can’t walk, can’t get up and stop a girl from going off with a son of a bitch. What Kevin said, Linus. What Hal said Kevin said about the Lin girl, the girl he killed in the park.” I paused, groping in my mind. “An odd phrase he used. Hal was completely wasted, and he was quoting Kevin.”
Linus’s forehead crinkled in thought but he shook his head. “I don’t remember what he said, exactly.”
Goddammit! Think, Smith, you useless bastard. I told myself that, and nothing happened. Likely, there was nothing anyway. Likely I was grasping at straws, and Hal hadn’t said a goddamn word that mattered. I tried to steer my thoughts into some other channel, somewhere they might be useful, but they wouldn’t budge. They were stuck on Hal, his slurred words and that dark bar. I felt my fists clench. Look at you, you stupid son of a bitch, in the end you can’t even control your own thoughts! God, Smith, you are one fucking loser, you know that? Not just a blind game player like Kevin Cavanaugh. A total and complete loser. The world went red as a hopeless rage burned through me.
Then a moment like a thunderclap. “Shit!” Unable to stop myself, I began to laugh.
“Dude?” I heard. “You flipping out?”
“No!” I was close, though. I shut my eyes, opened them again, brought myself down. “No, not flipping out. State-dependent memory. ‘Maiden voyage.’ ”
“What?”
“I just needed to get as mad as I was in the bar, at Hal. Now I remember what he said.” I shook my head in wonder. “He said the Lin girl should never have told Kevin she was saving herself for her husband because Kevin liked to take girls on their maiden voyage.”