Say Uncle

by Benjamin Laskin

  “Wait! Wait!” Lose you - find you, lose you - find you… How the hell should I know!

  “Goodbye.”

  “Aurora borealis!” I blurted. “Under the aurora borealis!”

  Silence, and then - click.

  “Dammit!”

  And then I heard the phone ring again on the other end. I was being transferred.

  “Who are you?” a different woman asked, posing the question like another Zen riddle.

  “Oh man,” I groaned. “Not another one. Who am I? I’m…I’m… I’m Guy, dammit!”

  “Guy?”

  “Yeah, Guy!” I shouted into the phone.

  “Calm down,” the voice said. “It’s me.”

  Spyguy

  I raised my binoculars again. The south patio was half-filled with latte-sipping customers, chatting and relaxing in the early evening swelter. At a perimeter table sat Doreen fanning herself with a menu. She looked pretty in her summer dress, but slightly agitated. Mongoose was twenty minutes late.

  I set the binoculars on the dash and wiped the sweat off my brow with the bottom of my T-shirt. From my position in the parking lot I had a clear view of Doreen. Where was Mongoose? Could he have gotten wind of something? I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I had to see for myself how things played out.

  I looked around to make sure no one was watching me when I saw a red Porsche convertible turn and enter my lane. It was Mongoose. Crap.

  I slid down in my seat, out of view. I heard the engine cut and a door slam. I waited, thinking what I’d say if he spotted me crouched down in my cab. Slowly, I inched up and peeked at my rearview mirror. He had parked in the space behind mine, facing the opposite direction. He crossed the parking lot and headed for the patio. I took up my binoculars again and followed him. I saw him speak into a cell phone then pocket it before coming in view of the patio.

  It had been months since I last saw Jim Fielding. Anytime I did see him, I was always struck by how irritatingly good-looking he was. He was always taller and bigger than I remembered too, and with that damn perfect hair—silky, thick brown hair parted down the middle, just brushing the tops of his ears. He wore sunglasses, light brown pants, pleated and cuffed, loafers, and a puffy, white linen dress shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.

  As soon as Doreen spotted him, he threw his arms apologetically into the air. He jogged up, pecked her on the cheek, and sat down opposite her. I wished I could read lips. Whatever he was saying it made Doreen laugh. If she was angry with him for being late, all was forgiven. Fielding excused himself, went inside, and minutes later returned with two tall ice teas.

  Nothing out of the ordinary happened for a while. Then I saw Doreen take off her ring and hand it to Mongoose. He slipped it onto the tip of his pinky, held it up admiringly, and wiggled his finger at her. He then moved to take it off, burlesquely pretending as if it were stuck. Doreen giggled. He plunged his hands beneath the table and continued to act as if he were struggling with the ring. I zoomed in and saw him remove the ring and stuff it into his right front pocket. Continuing his act, he took a second ring from his other pocket, and with great exaggeration, yanked it free. He held it up for Doreen to see, and then all smiles, he handed her the ring. She giggled and slipped it back onto her finger, clueless that he had switched rings on her. Smooth, Jimmy-boy. Goofy as hell, but smooth. Just as Hennes said you’d be.

  I looked on for another twenty minutes, until I saw them make a move to leave. I started my truck and backed out and parked a safe distance away. They each went to their own car. When Mongoose returned to his, he made another short call on his cell phone. I watched as both cars pulled out onto Camelback Road and headed east, Mongoose in the lead. I saw two other cars pull out onto the road from different locations seconds later.

  I had seen no sign of Hennes or any suspicious-looking agents, not that I had expected to see any. Surely, they wouldn’t have wanted to make a scene. If an amateur like me could have spotted them, then they wouldn’t have been very good. I reckoned that the interception would take place elsewhere.

  Well, I thought, my work here is done. I gave my Apple ‘Think Different’ cap a tug and started my truck. If everything went as planned, I’d be getting a call from Hennes, and soon we’d be having that get-to-know-each-other conversation and dinner he had promised me.

  Arizona Highways

  Hennes called me the following morning. “I see you found my phone,” he said. “I’m glad.”

  “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. It’s a little scratched up. I’ll pay for a new one if you like.”

  “Forget it. As long as it works.”

  “Thanks. So, how did it go?”

  “Mission accomplished,” he said. “Did Doreen get back okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s still sleeping. She got home late.”

  “But she’s okay, right?”

  “Yeah, she seemed happy as a lark last night. Mongoose told her he’d be out of town for a few days, but promised he’d call her as soon as he gets back. He’s not going to call, is he?”

  “I sincerely doubt it.”

  “Was it…messy?”

  “I wasn’t there for the interrogation, but I was assured he won’t be attending classes this fall.”

  I grimaced. I remembered Melody’s interrogation of Clownhead and the screams that came out of him. “So it’s over, right?”

  “We bought ourselves some time, I think, yes. Thank you, Guy. Now, if I recall, I promised you dinner, didn’t I?”

  “You got time?”

  “Actually, I was hoping that instead of dinner, we make a day of it.”

  “A day? What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, this is the legendary land of Arizona. Would you mind showing an old European a piece of the new world? Unless you’ve got other plans. I’d understand.”

  “No… Of course, Hennes. I’d love to.”

  “Wonderful. I have this nice rental car. How about I pick you and Doreen up in an hour and you point us in the direction of the Grand Canyon.”

  “Doreen?”

  “Sure, why not? If she’s not busy…”

  “Well, okay, but I thought you didn’t want her to know anything.”

  “That was before. She’s about to get her heart broken. Don’t you think she could use an explanation?”

  “She’d never believe—”

  “Coming from me she will. We owe it to her, don’t you think? As fantastic as it may sound to her, it’s also the best explanation, and maybe the only one that won’t make her feel incredibly foolish.”

  “I’ll ask her,” I said.

  “Good. Just tell her an old friend requests her company. Leave the surprises up to me.”

  “Gladly.”

  ···

  Doreen and I were waiting out front when Hennes pulled into the driveway in a black Ford Bronco. He smiled and waved.

  “Are you sure I know him?” Doreen asked.

  “You’ve never met, but you know him.”

  Hennes turned off the engine and stepped out. He was dressed in new Levi’s, a blue plaid cowboy shirt, bolo tie, snakeskin cowboy boots, and a white cowboy hat. He looked comical, but Doreen and I held back our giggles. He put out his hand to me and we shook. “Howdy, pad’na,” I said.

  Hennes smiled brightly. “Howdy, Guy,” he said, his German accent adding to the comedy. He turned to Doreen and offered his hand. “My name is Hennes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re lovelier than I could have imagined. ”

  Doreen smiled awkwardly, absently giving him her hand. “Guy…?” she whispered out of the side of her mouth. She turned to me, suspicious. She knew his presence did not bode well. I saw that Hennes took notice of her ring.

  I put my arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you stay here?” I said. “I’m sure Hennes would understand. Wouldn’t you, Hennes?”

  “I would, but I’d regret terribly missing the one chance I’m ever likely to have to get to know you.�
�

  Hennes’ gentlemanly manner must have caused Doreen a tinge of regret. Though she was wary of the meaning of his presence in Phoenix, Doreen had read the journals and had been, I thought, as convinced as I of the integrity of the only living true friend her uncle had ever had.

  “Pardon my bad manners,” she said. “I just never expected…” She smiled, swung her daypack over her shoulder and shook Hennes’ hand again. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Hennes clapped his hands in joy. “Then shall we go for a drive in your famous Arizona and get better acquainted.” He opened the back of the Bronco. “Would you like to put your bag in here?”

  “No thanks,” she said. “It’s no bother.”

  Hennes shrugged and motioned toward my daypack. I tossed it in alongside Hennes’ briefcase and slammed the hatch shut. “Let’s go, Hopalong,” I said.

  We got into his car and pointed him toward Highway 17 North, which would take us in the direction of Prescott, Sedona, Flagstaff, and the Grand Canyon.

  “I’m really quite excited,” Hennes said to Doreen beside him. “Do you know I’m a subscriber to your Arizona Highways magazine?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes! A fine magazine. An acquaintance of mine gave me a gift subscription some fifteen years ago and I’ve been a subscriber ever since. I never thought I’d see any of your wondrous state with my own eyes.”

  “As I recall,” Doreen said, “you don’t fancy travel much.”

  “No, not much at all. But life often takes a wicked pleasure in forcing us out of our comfort zones. Travel is infinitely easier than in the days of my youth.”

  “Well,” Doreen said, “what is it you’d like to see? Out this way we’ve got Indian ruins, a ghost town, the red rock of Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon, the Mingus Mountains around Prescott, and then farther north, Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon, though we really haven’t time enough to see that. How long are you in town for?”

  “Unfortunately, I leave tomorrow.”

  “What a shame,” Doreen said. “May I ask what brought you out here in the first place?”

  “You certainly have the right.” Hennes cleared his throat. “I’ve always believed that the truth is the shortest distance between two points.”

  “Really?” Doreen said. “I always thought that the truth was the point.”

  Hennes smiled at her with twinkling eyes. “Yes, you’re quite right. Pardon an old philosopher his tired clichés. To the point, then. Your apprehension at seeing me was well founded. My visit, I regret, was more business than pleasure. I had good reason to believe that my oldest and dearest friend, your great uncle, Ellery, was in terrific danger of being exposed. Not only him, but your friends who work with him.”

  “Did he send you here?”

  “Not exactly. But a message came to me that the one you know as Piranha was only a step behind him, and that he had to cut off all communication with me and his people, that he feared he may have already compromised their anonymity and safety. A last-ditch effort was proposed to force Piranha into the open. That, I don’t like admitting, involved my presence here and contact with you and your brother.”

  “What is it you need from us?” she asked.

  “That, if there is any, is the good news. It’s done. You and Guy have already done your share. The rest is up to Ellery and our circle of acquaintances. Though it will be some time yet before I can communicate with Ellery, I’m certain he’d like to extend his deepest thanks.”

  Doreen turned to me in the back seat. “Guy, what the hell is he talking about?”

  “Hennes,” I said, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “Yes, you certainly are,” Doreen said, folding her arms.

  Hennes resituated his cowboy hat on his head and grasped the steering wheel with both hands. “Yes, of course.”

  “Shortest distance between two points,” Doreen reminded him.

  “Your friend, James Fielding—”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” she said, staring straight ahead.

  “He’s a top secret operative.”

  “Oh for Chrissakes, what kind of—”

  “It gets better, darling sister. Tell her Hennes.”

  “Everything you told him about your time in Thailand went straight to the Organization. The pictures you took, and even your ring.”

  “That’s ridiculous. No way. Not Jim. We went to high school together! And the ring, I have it right here!” She twisted the ring off her finger and shoved it in front of his eyes. “See, right here!”

  I said, “He switched the ring on you, Doreen.”

  “He did not, look, it’s the same.”

  “No, it’s not. Yours had an inscription on the inside. Go ahead, look.”

  She held up the ring and squinted into its inner circle. “I’m sure there’s some other explanation,” she said.

  “Have you one?” Hennes asked.

  “Well, no, but there must be… Guy, help me out here. There must be something…”

  “Well, let’s see. You mixed it up in your jewelry box with all your other silver friendship rings?”

  “I’ve never gotten—shut up, Guy. Okay, okay, I can’t explain it. But I need much more than this little mystery before I’ll even consider your insane story.”

  “Okay, Hennes,” I said. “Let her rip.”

  French Fried Enchilada Style

  Hennes said, “Rip what?”

  “The whole chimichanga,” I said. “Give it to her.”

  “Chimi-what-na?”

  “The whole story,” Doreen said impatiently. “From the beginning.”

  “Oh…sorry. My English—”

  “Your English is great,” Doreen snapped. “Now the chimi, guacamole and all.”

  Hennes mouthed the word ‘guacamole,’ shrugged, and began his tale. He told her the same story he had told me, Doreen interrupting the whole way through with many of the same questions that I had asked. We were well outside the Phoenix city limits by the time he finished.

  After some icy silence, Doreen turned to me flustered and angry. “Guy, why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  Hennes interrupted. “I asked him not to. I was afraid that if you’d known, Mongoose would have picked up the scent and we’d have lost him. It was for your own safety as well.”

  “I could have pretended. My minor in college is acting.”

  Hennes started to chuckle but caught himself before it registered condescension. “I’m sure you’re a fine actor, my girl, but Mongoose is better. He’s been trained to spot every tic you might show.”

  Doreen shook her head in dismay, still unable, or unwilling, to believe that she had been conned by Jimmy the Mongoose from the start. She flipped down the car’s sun visor and located me in its vanity mirror. “What are you so smug about back there, Guy? You think this is funny?”

  I was slunk in the corner, my feet up on the seat, my back against the door, chewing a piece of Bazooka. I blew a bubble and let it pop. I took the pink wad out of my mouth and sponged the exploded bubble off my lips and chin. “It’s kinda funny,” I said. “In an existential, theater-of-the-absurd kind of way. If you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t, and neither do you,” Doreen spat.

  “You’re right, I have no idea what that means. But one thing is clear, from day one you and I have been alternating as the cue ball in a game of top-secret snookers.”

  “Cue ball?” Doreen said.

  “Yeah, I’ll give you a Spinozistic analogy. Imagine a cue ball suddenly gaining self-awareness as it speeds across the pool table. It would think it’s flying of its own free will, would it not? — ‘Hey, look at me! I can fly! Woohoo! Watch this, seven ball in the corner pocket!’ — But in reality, you and I, like the deluded cue ball, were set into motion every time by the cues of two pool sharks with opposing agendas and a forty-year-old grudge.

  “We saw what they wanted us to see, hit what they wanted us
to hit. Piranha could have offed us at any time, but he didn’t. Why? Because as long as we were on the table, Ellery was in the game, and vice-versa. As each ball disappeared into a pocket the table opened up and the other became more visible. The way I see it, all that’s left is the eight ball.”

  Doreen said, “You’re making this up as you go again, aren’t you?”

  “I am, but I’m damn good at it. Aren’t I, Hennes?”

  Hennes said, “I can’t speak for Piranha, but I assure you that Ellery is not as conniving and ruthless as you depict him. After all, Doreen’s family is blood, remember?”

  It took a moment before she sifted the meaning from his words, but as soon as she did she spun around and looked at me with shock and deep-felt pain. When Hennes had told Doreen about Piranha and Mongoose he had skipped the part about the crooked branches and gnarled roots of my family tree.

  “Guy, I’m so…”

  “I know you are.”

  “But it doesn’t change anything. Not a thing. You have to believe that. You’re as much an Andrews as I am, and none of us have ever thought of you as anything else.”

  “I believe you,” I said, and blew another bubble.

  “No, Guy,” Doreen said anxiously. She unlatched her seat belt, spun in her seat and got onto her knees to face me. She took my chin and made me look her in the face. Her eyes were brimming. “Say it like you mean it. Guy…?”

  I smiled and stroked her flaming cheek. “I believe you,” I said. “Hennes, the whole chimichanga. Deep fried and enchilada style. And don’t forget the dollop of sour cream.”

  “Guy,” Doreen said, “I’m telling you, I know about Ellery being your father. I should have confessed the truth to you when you first mentioned your suspicion, but I just couldn’t. I swore to mom and dad that I’d never say a word… Don’t laugh!”

  “Hennes?” I said.

  He took his hat off and set it on his lap and rubbed his hand over the light stubble on his head. “Anya is Guy’s mother,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Doreen said. “I put that together already. In fact, I thought if anything, that would have been of some consolation to Guy were he to ever learn the truth.” She turned to me again. “It is Guy. Anya was a remarkable woman.”