"Anything on it?"
"I have not yet looked. I am awaiting the fingerprint report."
The computer beeped, and Smith said, "One moment, please." He adjusted his rimless eyeglasses and peered at the terminal screen. His eyes went wide. He returned to the phone.
"Remo. We have a break."
"Yeah?"
"According to the FBI, the dead man you-er-shipped to me is Queque Baez, an enforcer for the Medellin Cartel."
"Why would they want to hit Esperanza-or Black, for that matter?"
"Unknown. But we cannot take chances. I want you to join the Black campaign."
"Do I have to?" Remo asked glumly.
"You have to."
"Could be worse," Remo said resignedly. "You could be sending me into the Rona Ripper organization."
"Let us hope it does not come to that."
"Maybe she's behind this."
"Unlikely."
"Don't forget she helped General Nogeira get sprung for the baptism."
"I had not thought of that," Smith said slowly.
"I'll be in touch, Smitty."
Harold Smith replaced the blue receiver. A worried frown caused his lemony face to twitch. He looked to his closed medicine drawer. Despite the escalating situation, he felt no desire to reach for any of the remedies that in the past had gotten him through situations more dire than this one.
Although none of those situations, he recalled, had included having to dispose of a body in the basement of Folcroft.
Chapter 18
Barry Black, Junior felt safe. In fact, he felt almost as safe in the attic of his Pacific Park home as he had been in India, doing the good work of Mother Teresa. Mainly her laundry.
After all, they didn't have personal pyramids in India. Pyramids were Egyptian. Pyramids, Barry Black, Junior knew, were also the ultimate in personal protection. They were impervious to uncool vibrations, bad karma, and cosmic rays. They also filtered out the more harmful effects of direct sunlight, which is why Barry had had his installed in the attic. The roof was skylight city.
Unfortunately, his imported-from-Ceylon formstone pyramid didn't repel sound waves.
"Barry, you gotta come out," pleaded the voice of his campaign manager.
Barry Black put aside a half-eaten Oreo cookie. "Where is it engraved in granite that Barry Black, Junior, Mr. Outsider, persecuted by the system, has to come out of his personal pyramid and be a target for every anti-reform whacko in the state?" he demanded.
"Because you can't campaign for governor inside a formstone pyramid in an attic."
"Where is that written? I'm a declared candidate. I can campaign any way I want. This is America."
"No, this is California. Not the same thing. And you've got to press the flesh if you wanna win."
"Let the voters come to me," Barry retorted firmly, "One at a time. After being frisked. Have those magnetometers and X-ray screens I ordered arrived yet?"
"Barry, this is going to get out. The press has been clamoring for a statement all afternoon."
"Write this down. I, Barry Black, Junior, the next governor of the fantabulous state of California, solemnly vow to cast his sacred vote on election day, and urge all citizens to do the same. Type that up and distribute copies to all interested parties."
"That's all you're gonna do?" "What do you want? The ozone layer is breaking down. Melanomia is practically epidemic. I can't govern with black, hairy, precancerous moles on my face."
"Barry, please. Make a public appearance. Show the electorate you're not afraid."
"I'm not. I'm perfectly safe as long as I'm in my pyramid."
"If word gets out you're holed up in an obelisk," the campaign manager said sternly, "the campaign is over."
"If I come out and get my head shot off, the campaign is really over," Barry Black, Junior countered.
"You know, a true Republican wouldn't be caught dead in a pyramid."
The pyramid was silent. Except for a single dry crunch.
"I am a Republican," Barry Black said huffily. "Color me business-friendly."
"Prove it. Get out of that thing."
"No. I can prove it another way."
"I'm listening, Barry."
"I have a secret plan. Just like the great Republican, Richard M. Nixon."
"Richard M. Nixon's so-called 'secret plan' was to end the Vietnam War, and it turned out to be just smoke and mirrors--a scam to get him elected."
"Exactly. I have a secret scam-plan which will get me elected governor, and then and only then will I announce it."
"You're going to announce this scam after you're elected?" the campaign manager blurted out.
"Well, I can't very well announce it beforehand. It wouldn't work."
"If you announce it afterward, you might get lynched."
"Never happen. My secret scam-plan is so brilliant, people will applaud my genius."