"Damn." He considered it a moment longer. I wanted to rush him but kept quiet and let him reach a decision in his own time. "OK, I'll do it. If the person agrees, where do you want to meet?" I gave him the address of a nearby street. "You'll have the money with you?" I assured him I would, then hung up and went to get the cash.
There were no banks open at that time, but I was close to an all-night casino. The Cardinal ran most of the casinos in the city and it wasn't unusual for his higher-level personnel to draw funds from them if a lot of cash was required in the middle of the night.
Three minutes of grace were left, according to my watch, when I hurried through the lobby to the cashiers' desk. I slid up to the counter, handed over my card and prayed The Cardinal hadn't canceled it yet or put out word that I was persona non grata. He hadn't. I withdrew enough to pay off Nathanael and his friend, buy some new clothes and get me to wherever it was I needed to go.
The car was a few minutes late. When it pulled up to the curb, I opened the rear door and leaped in. The driver took off before I could close the door. "Hi, I'm-," I began, then stopped. A woman was sitting behind the wheel. She saw my confusion and smiled.
"We can drive," she said softly. "Despite what many men think."
"I'm sorry. Of course you can. I just wasn't expecting…"
"No problem. You got the money?" I counted off notes and passed them over. She pocketed the stash and grunted. "Margaret Stravinki's the name."
"Capac Raimi."
"I kind of guessed that," she laughed. "Where to?"
I gave her directions, sat back and tried to lay low. My face was aching, as were my ribs, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable bending I had to straighten up. I leaned forward and examined my face in the front mirror. I was a mess. My nose was destroyed, my eyes red, my cheeks purple with bruises. Long scratches raked the flesh in several places. One side of my neck was bloody from my savaged ear. My lips were torn and puffy. I hadn't lost any teeth, but that was about the only positive aspect. I rolled my jaw gently from side to side, flexed my arms and legs. I'd be tender for weeks but I'd live. Unless one of the ribs had punctured something and I was bleeding internally.
I checked my watch. The pursuit should be hitting full flight about now. The posses would gather, heed their instructions and the hunt would be on. I had to hope they'd overlook Theo's house in all the excitement.
We got there without complication. The lights were off but virtually all the houses were dark this time of night. There could be a circus troupe in residence for all I could tell. "You'll wait for me?" I asked Margaret. She'd parked several houses away and killed the engine.
"Well, I was gonna do a bit of fishing, but since you asked so nice…"
"Thanks. If there's any sign of trouble, split."
"Don't worry," she said. "I will."
The backyard was deserted and the door was locked. There was a loose stone nearby which Theo had always left a key under. I couldn't see in the dark, so I had to get down on my knees and scrabble around. When I found the stone I nudged it aside and explored with my fingers. I hit metal after a couple of seconds and retrieved it quickly. The key was caked in mud. I wiped it on my shirt, picked off the worst dirt with my nails and tried the lock. It opened without a problem and I was soon standing in the familiar kitchen, remembering happier, simpler days.
I crept through the house. I knew my way around, even after all these months, and could navigate with my eyes shut. But if people were living here, they would have made changes-new tables, stands, statues. I had to be careful.
I went up the stairs slowly, wincing at every creak. The door to Theo's old room was half open. I tiptoed over and peeped in. There was somebody on the bed, under the covers! I tensed and tried melting back into the shadows. Then, as my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I smiled. It was only the sheets, crumpled on the bed. Nobody was here.
I crossed the landing to my old room. I moved quickly, feeling safe for the first time. I'd kept the money belt under the mattress. Lifting it a few inches, I groped for the pouch. Nothing. My hand crept in further, reaching deeper, describing a widening circle. It wasn't there. Someone had found it and… There! My fingers closed over the belt and withdrew. I had it. Everything would be fine now.
I worked on the zipper. It was stiff and I had to struggle. I didn't want to jerk too hard and break it. As I was trying to tease it open, a noise outside attracted my attention. A car had pulled up.
I returned to Theo's room, which had a better view of the front. The car was parked across the street. Two men emerged while the driver stayed seated. It was dark and I couldn't see very well but I was almost certain one of them was Vincent Carell, Tasso's pet goon.
They crossed the road, unbuttoning their jackets, reaching for guns. I searched the room for a weapon. I'd left my knife with Ama because I couldn't have snuck it through the doors of Party Central. I had meant to get it back later but it had slipped my mind.
Pieces of a broken vase littered the floor. I found the longest shard and gripped tightly, grimacing as it sliced a thin ridge in my palm. It wasn't much of a weapon but it would have to do.
I heard the front door opening. They had keys. I made to leave the room, then stopped. They'd see or hear me if I did. Besides, there was nowhere to hide out there. I dived under the bed covers and pulled them over me. Fluffed them up a bit and lay as still as I could. Some camouflage!
Voices drifted up from downstairs. They obviously didn't feel any need to tread softly. I recognized Vincent's voice immediately, complaining as usual. "Like I've got nothing fucking better to be doing. I mean, he's really gonna come back here, isn't he? He's halfway to Alaska or the fucking Alps by now."
"Sure he is. But The Cardinal said come check, and when The Cardinal says come check, we come check." I didn't know this guy.
"You're so right." Vincent's voice dripped with sarcastic venom. "Go check the back door. Look for a beer in the kitchen while you're at it, make us a cup of tea or something if you can't find one." The back door! I'd left it ajar in case I needed to make a quick getaway.
"Vincent." The voice of the second guy came a few seconds later, softer, urgent. "It's open. Someone's been here."
"Fuck." A long pause. "OK. We'll search the house. You take the bottom, I'll take the top. Be careful. The fucker could still be here. You see anything, shoot. Don't fuck around with this guy."
"You think we should call this in?"
"You don't think we can handle a fuck like this by ourselves?"
"We should let them know."
"Know what? That the door's open? Hell, it could be a bum or a kid. We'll search the place first. If we find him, we'll kill him and call then."
He came up the stairs slowly, flicking on the light as he did. The moron. I'd never known why Tasso kept Vincent around. He was dumb, plain and simple. If I got out of here alive, it would be thanks to his stupidity.
Vincent checked the bathroom first, then my bedroom, the spare room, then the closet. Finally he reached rainbow's end. Turned on the light and looked around. I held my breath and acted like a corpse. "Shit," he muttered, coming forward. He must be on to me! I tried to spring away but found myself paralyzed. I couldn't move. He was going to walk up and kill me and there wasn't a thing I…
He sat on the edge of the bed.
"Fuck," he said, lighting a cigarette. "I could be out getting laid. Fucking Ford. One of these days…"
I didn't deserve this much luck. I'd screwed up by coming here and by rights should pay dearly for my mistake. But fate can be kind occasionally.
I gripped the jagged shard, ignoring the pain, and sat up swiftly. I could see Vincent through the thin fabric of the sheets, so I didn't waste time throwing them off. He must have gotten a shock, seeing those harmless bedclothes spring to life.
I clamped one hand over Vincent's mouth, jerked his head back, jabbed the other forward and drove the point of the makeshift dagger into his throat. It snapped in half. I dug the second shard in and whipped my hand from left to right several times. Vincent's body writhed but it was too late. His warm blood gushed like swarming locusts from some biblical breach in the heavens, soaking his chest, the bed, the covers, me. Within seconds he was through struggling for all eternity.
I'd killed him.
My first kill. I'd thought about it for such a long time. I'd wondered, nights when I couldn't sleep, how I'd react when I finally crossed this bridge. Now I knew.
I pushed the covers off and raised a hand. Touched my mouth and felt a smile. I liked it. Killing suited me. This was what I was born for. In that moment I knew, whatever else I might have been-whoever-I was a killer first and foremost. The Cardinal would have been proud.
I rolled off the bed, took Vincent's gun from his limp hand and made for the door, picking up another piece of vase along the way. I didn't want to use the gun unless I had to-too noisy.
I left the room, the sticky smell of death wafting after me. I meant to wait at the top of the stairs and knife Vincent's buddy as he came up. Then I could take my time deciding what to do with the one outside.
That plan went out the window because the man was coming up the stairs as I crossed the landing. Thanks to the light, he got a clear view of me. He began firing immediately, shouting something incoherent. But he panicked and his shots missed by a wide margin.
I stood my ground, let his bullets whistle by, took a bearing and fired. A duck in a bath would have stood a better chance than the unfortunate guy on the stairs. My first bullet ripped a fifth hole in his heart. The second tore his eyes out, smashed his skull and sent him flying backward.
I rushed down the stairs, jumped the body at the base, knowing I had only seconds to act. I raced out the front door, into the street. The driver was out of the car when I burst into sight, crouched behind it. He fired as soon as he saw me. I dived for the thin bushes in front and came up shooting. My first bullet tore into the car inches from his head. The second must have grazed his left ear. The third would have been the killer.
But there wasn't a third. I pulled the trigger and hit an empty chamber. That asshole Carell had come without a fully loaded weapon! The driver smiled and walked out in front of the car, taking his time, knowing I was trapped. I glanced around, weighing my options. I could duck back inside the house, but it was open ground and he'd have ample time to put a couple of shots into my back. Or I could wait until he was closer and rush him. Neither option looked promising.