Death and Conspiracy

by Seeley James

  I recalled the short guy tossing his beads away. I shook her hand, then maneuvered closer to the basin. “What about your family name?”

  “Not everyone has a great family,” she snarled.

  I struck a nerve. I wasn’t interested in digging into painful subjects so I changed it. “Is Nema short for something? It sounds like it has a deeper meaning than, say, Marge.”

  “I based it on Nemain.”

  “The Celtic goddess of war?” Mercury had drilled so many gods into my head, I swam in them when I slept.

  Nema was impressed.

  Mercury said, Don’t be thinking about calling on the Celts for help, dawg. They won’t treat you right. They’re not kind and helpful like me. Besides, we kicked their asses from Gaul to Hibernia. The best gods always win.

  I said, Is that why ancient Rome turned Christian?

  Aw, now that was low, dude. Just hurtful and low.

  He disappeared, as he often does. Where he’d been standing lay a string of beads. I pulled them out and looked them over.

  Nema looked them over too. Her brow crinkled. “Do people throw those in there as a religious thing?”

  “These belonged to the shooter. The short guy.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw him do it. It’s one of the signs of a terrorist preparing to attack.”

  “There are signs?” She swallowed hard as if the morning’s events just came into tangible focus.

  I’d seen reactions like hers before. If a person wasn’t there when I did something heroic, if they only hear about my exploits, they think I’m Superman in the flesh. A larger-than-life guy able to leap tall buildings. At some point, it comes home that I ended someone’s life, and everything comes down off the pedestal and becomes as real as road rash.

  In Nema’s imagination, the raw facts crystalized. The video of me using a man’s rifle to blow open his friend’s skull was surreal. As the visualization of the brutality and violence sank in, it shocked her.

  When you save someone’s life, they’re grateful. But when you kill others to save them, they become concerned about you. Anyone that explosively violent could easily turn on them by mistake. It takes some coaxing and calmness to convince them otherwise. That’s what caused some of the parishioners to misinterpret my actions.

  For Nema, standing next to a guy who could kill without hesitation felt dangerous in a bad way. But all that was her problem. I didn’t feel like talking her fear levels down.

  And that brought up a question. Something was keeping her in front of me despite her revulsion. Figuring out Nema’s angle was a nice distraction from figuring out Jenny’s.

  “That means he’s Catholic?” Nema’s voice cracked. “So. He really was going in to pray?”

  She backed away from me a step and turned a little as if preparing to run. I didn’t answer. She never made good on her implied threat to flee.

  I counted the beads. I said, “A Catholic rosary has fifty-nine beads. This one has thirty-three.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Heard it somewhere.” One of Mercury’s many painfully dull lessons, but I didn’t see the need to explain.

  “Muslims use prayer beads, right?”

  “Theirs have a different kind of tassel on the end.” Knowing what she would ask next, I answered. “I spent some time in Iraq and Afghanistan. I’ve seen a lot of Misbahas.”

  “What does it mean then?”

  “I’m not sure, yet.” I gazed across the plaza at the second-largest church in Paris.

  “Can I see them?”

  “No.” I shoved them in my pocket. “They should be evidence.”

  “Even non-Catholics go to these big touristy churches sometimes. Maybe he wanted to attend mass.”

  “Then why did he shout, ‘Allahu akbar?’”

  She looked around the plaza and up at the church towers. Goosebumps of fear pimpled her skin. She hugged herself. “Can we go now?”

  “We?” I struck out across the plaza at a good pace. Not fast enough to make her run, not slow enough to give her time to think about it.

  Nema didn’t think long. She trotted up and synced to my march. “You said you were lonely. I didn’t want to leave you feeling like that.”

  I watched her as I walked. “Why are you in Paris?”

  “Because there’re more artists than cab drivers in New York.” She held up a hand to stop my obvious question. “If I’m going to starve for my art, why not Paris?”

  Mercury walked on the far side of her. Sounds like a line out of a musical, homie. But let it go. Get to the heart of the matter.

  I said, Don’t worry, I’m about to ask who sent her.

  Mercury looked at me like I was eating a poop sandwich. Dawg! What is wrong with you? You just got thrown by a thoroughbred; you need to get back in that saddle. And this little filly is practically asking for you to put a bridle on her.

  I considered hitting him, but if he’s just a figment of my imagination—like all the doctors kept saying—I’d look pretty stupid swinging at the air. Not only do you misunderstand me—you’re reading Nema all wrong.

  I watched the young lady in my peripheral vision. She cut glances my way every third step like a pickpocket waiting for the right opportunity. We crossed a small street and wandered down a narrow lane. Every time a scooter passed, she crushed against me and let our contact linger. I didn’t push her away.

  I asked, “Who sent you to follow me?”

  Her glance at me was quick, with sharp and narrowed eyes. “You’re not very nice to me.”

  “Not an answer.”

  “I saw your picture on the news. I thought you were handsome and, y’know, might be nice.” She stopped walking. “Thought I’d feel safe around you. Guess I was wrong.”

  Mercury said, D’you hear that bro? The first woman who ever thought you were handsome, and here you are walking away from her.

  I said, I thought gods knew everything. Watch this.

  Without breaking stride, I raised my voice. “If you want to report back to your handler, you’re going to have a hard time doing it standing there like a statue.”

  Nema ran up behind me. For a second, I thought she might jump on me and start pounding on my shoulders. Women have been known to get that mad at me. Instead, she ran in front of me a few paces, stopped, and wheeled around to face me with fire in her eyes. As I approached, she threw herself at me and grabbed my arms.

  Pushing her over would’ve taken no effort at all with what she weighed. I stopped out of curiosity.

  “Who do you think you are, treating me like that?” she said.

  “A guy who hates it when a random gay girl tries to flirt with me and won’t answer simple questions.”

  “Who’re you calling ‘girl?’” She snorted anger through her nose. “I’m almost twenty-six.”

  With a simple sweep of one arm, I flipped her hands aside and bumped past her. “You skipped ‘gay’ and ‘flirt’—and you still haven’t answered my question. You want to hang with me and find out something you can tell your boss, then you need to get real. Tell me the truth.”

  “Why don’t you tell me the truth, huh?” she shouted as I walked away. “Why does it matter that the guy had a rosary?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Nema followed me like a lost puppy, a few feet back and unsure whether to get more aggressive or less. Her persistence interested me. She wanted something other than sex. I didn’t believe her claim to be a fan. Momentary celebrities often find themselves surrounded by crazies, but she didn’t fall in that category. Her moves were too strategic in nature. Someone sent her. She was afraid to fail.

  I picked up my pace and turned into a grassy, tree-filled park. She fell behind and tried to make a call. She pecked out a text with her index finger which caused her to fumble her phone several times. Most people under forty grew up with technology and could text a thesis with their thumbs. Nema wasn’t one of them.

  She sensed me watching
her and said, “Chuck does the tech stuff for me.”

  Then she blushed and didn’t bother to explain what she meant.

  I hit my usual stride and found a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty. It was three times the size of a normal person and stood on a pedestal big enough to hide behind. While Nema contacted whoever, I slipped behind it to wait.

  When she clicked off, she looked around with a touch of panic before setting off in my last known direction.

  I popped out from hiding, scaring the wits out of her, and snapped a picture of her. I sent it to Bianca for ID. I asked Nema, “What did he say?”

  “He’ll meet us here.” She stuck her toe in the gravel. “He’s not my boss. He’s a friend. Associate. We’re in a … club.”

  “What kind of club?”

  “Self-defense.” She hesitated again. “Listen, about what you said. You’re wrong. I’m not gay.”

  “I introduced one of my best friends to her wife. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “It’s not that. I don’t subscribe to Cosmo-crap, that’s all. I’m what the French call a garçon manqué. A tomboy.”

  “Even tomboys wear lipstick and nail polish.”

  Mercury stroked his chin and nodded his approval. Say there, dawg. You did call this one. She had me fooled.

  I said, Any woman who bats her eyelashes at you has you fooled.

  You got that right. The curse of males in every species.

  “Look, whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong about me.” Her mouth tightened up like a drawstring had been pulled. “The guys I hang around with don’t play games. So, don’t say anything stupid to Lugh, please? By the way, it’s pronounced Lou, but he spells it like the Celtic warrior-god. I dress plain because I like to, OK?”

  “Why did you look at me with a mix of concern and dread? You didn’t have the first clue what to do if I took you up on your flirts.”

  “Promise me you won’t say anything.”

  “Told you once, your secret is safe.”

  “How many times I gotta tell you? I’m not … gay.” She sounded unconvincing.

  We watched each other for a long time, standing still. Our only motion was our breathing.

  “So why is the rosary a big deal?” she asked.

  “It raises questions about the man’s intent.”

  A man hailed Nema and joined us. Average in every way, he could’ve been an animated mannequin. A featureless face topped a narrow body draped in bland clothes. Unremarkable enough to disappear in a crowd. Anyone that plain had to be an American. I pegged him at late thirties, early forties.

  I stuck out my hand, “You must be Lugh.”

  He looked at my hand before shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Jacob. Quite a brave thing you did this morning. We are in awe.”

  “We?”

  He looked at Nema. “Thank you, my dear. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

  First I’m followed for undiscernible reasons by an attractive but odd woman. Then I’m flattered by an anonymous man for no identifiable reason before he dismisses the young lady. My curiosity rose. It was a nice distraction from thinking about Jenny.

  “She stays,” I said. “You don’t dismiss my friends.”

  The emotions going through his head were as readable as a slideshow in a boring corporate meeting. He didn’t like me taking control of the conversation. He didn’t like me favoring Nema over him. Which meant he didn’t like me. But he needed something, and we both knew it. He sniffed and pulled himself up. “Very well, have it your way.”

  “What’s this little club of yours about, Lugh?” I started walking down the garden path.

  Lugh came alongside, Nema trailed behind him. “Technically, we’re a civic organization, like neighborhood watch or the Sierra Club. You’d like our group, Jacob.”

  “When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Simple courtesy.”

  “If you’re the kind of guy who can look to new horizons without being ashamed of your origins, you’ll definitely like our group.”

  “Are you hard of hearing?” I asked.

  “I can tell, you’re the kind of man who keeps his morals anchored in times of corruption, Jacob. I’m right about that, aren’t I?”

  Just what I needed, a man who kept up his spiel regardless of the inquiry. I fell back into my earlier mode. Half-listening to the sound of a human voice as long as it wasn’t talking about Jenny.

  “We’re a group of patriots concerned about the traitors in our midst. We like to think of ourselves as men of action. Today’s events showed us how ill-prepared we are. When you spotted two mass-shooters about to strike, you didn’t sit on your hands, you didn’t run for the exits. You jumped them. We want to be more like you, Jacob. We want to take action when action is needed.”

  Mercury tilted his head. Ya hear that, dude? He thinks you’re a man of action. He’s never seen you walk by a TV tuned to Nickelodeon. You get stuck like a man in a tar pit if they’re showing SpongeBob.

  Mercury thought for a minute. Say, ya think these are the guys Zack wants you to infiltrate? That’s way too much of a coincidence. Maybe you’re destined to be Zack’s bitch. Ima check with the Fates to see if Nona is resetting your lifespan.

  I said, I would never be Zack’s … They could be friends of the guys I took out. Maybe they’re looking for revenge.

  Mercury said, A life or death grudge match. Now that could make for an interesting afternoon. I wonder who would win.

  Lugh was still talking. “If you love America like you love your parents, you’ll want to join us, Jacob.”

  I turned around, looked at Nema, and walked backward. “Is there a short version, or does everyone get the full sales pitch?”

  She shrugged. “He’s trying to explain our—”

  “Shut up,” Lugh snapped at her.

  “Hey, Lugh.” I grabbed his arm and spun him to face me. “Men who treat women badly tend to piss me off.”

  Lugh glanced at Nema before looking at me. “She needs to know her place.”

  “My sister dated a guy who showed her no respect in public. Turned out, things were worse in private. I don’t let that kinda thing slide anymore. Ya feel me?”

  I let go of him. In my experience, bullies escalate violence until someone enforces the Golden Rule on them. I was prepared to teach him all about it.

  He stepped back, nursing his arm. “Sorry. I meant no disrespect to you.”

  We started walking again.

  Lugh resumed talking. “Our association is run by a man of vision. He’s a man’s man. Not one of these feminized men. You’ll never find him apologizing for his birthright. He sees the vitality and strength in every man he meets. He leads by example, never by force, but when he must use force, he never holds back. He celebrates human nature rather than regret his position in God’s plan. He treats all men with benevolence and instills confidence in us when we most need it. When you meet him, his presence will dominate every thought. He is bringing us all together that we might stand in solidarity, never allowing ourselves or our brothers to be replaced.”

  Lugh paused. Nema’s eyes had wandered while he spoke. She hugged herself.

  “You sound like you’re in love with him.” I punched his shoulder. “Does he have a name?”

  Lugh reared back to throw a punch. I gave him my soldier stare, every muscle in my body relaxed as if the threat of death were no more frightening than a gentle breeze. Someone who is utterly unafraid of anything you might do is a terrifying sight. He assessed his chances at survival and unwound his tensed muscles.

  But his face still blazed red. “I’m not a homosexual.”

  The heavy accent on the last word in his statement spoke volumes about his feelings on the topic. I glanced at Nema, who had turned away from us.

  “Easy there, Lugh.” I put my hands out, palms facing him in a non-threatening gesture. “You were getting a little star-struck about this whatshisname. What was I to think?”

  “Well, not that
.”

  “Your bullshit is deep, yet you still haven’t asked me what you came here to ask. Does this leader of yours allow you to waste as much of his time as you’ve wasted of mine?”

  Lugh dropped his gaze and gathered his thoughts. “You demonstrated uncanny skills in self-defense today.”

  “Nema mentioned that’s what your group is about.” I glanced her way. She’d moved off a ways. “Does your little self-defense group have a name?”

  Lugh glared at Nema before answering me. “Free Origins. We want to hire you to teach us self-defense. We can never rise to your level of expertise, but we would like to know how to protect ourselves from active shooters. What happened this morning is becoming commonplace. The Easter bombings in Sri Lanka, the Boston Marathon, the Bastille Day truck ramming in Nice. These are the types of attacks we want to prevent if given a chance. Today, you truly inspired us.”

  Mercury leaned over Lugh’s shoulder. Strange, isn’t it, bro? He left out the attacks by anti-government activists and racists.

  I said, They didn’t kill as many people over the last decade.

  Mercury said, Before Sri Lanka, their body count was growing faster than anyone else’s. From seventy-seven in Oslo to fifty in Christchurch, people who look like you are catching up in the terrorist race. Y’know, homie, there was a time when mortals feared wolves and plagues. Now, the biggest danger in your lives comes from white Christian men.

  I felt sick hearing that.

  “What kind of teaching did you have in mind?” I asked Lugh.

  “We’re going to a conference in a few days. There will be other groups like ours. Birth Right and Fair Heritage will be there, among others. We arranged a shooting range and instructors. Until today, we thought we’d hired the best. Your heroism opened our eyes. Now, we know—we need you.”

  “You’re talking about the Identity Defense Conference?”

  Lugh staggered a step in surprise. “You know about it?”

  He decided I did and smiled as if we were on the same team.

  Mercury walked around Lugh. Exactly what Zack Ames wanted you to do, get inside IDC. That could work out for you. Everyone hates you in Paris. You disappear for awhile, maybe they’ll forget how you killed two innocent Catholics.