“And yet, as you say, we’re still here, still teetering on the cliff’s edge.”
“The edge is giving way,” Gideon said. “Who knows where we are in the countdown. But I think that if Rosso and his band aren’t stopped soon, we are looking at a thousand years of darkness.”
“But you said Rosso is untouchable.”
“Until now,” Gideon said coolly.
38
Trigger Finger
“What do you mean?” Malkah said, troubled by the steeled look in Gideon’s eye.
“He and his league of scumbags are coming to my neighborhood.”
Malkah didn’t like where this was going. “Yeah, so…?”
“So maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”
“I saw what a fortress that place is. They wouldn’t let you within a mile of there.”
“Two miles,” he said, and waved his hand. “Details, details…”
“Don’t even kid with me about this, Gideon Baer. I don’t like such talk.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. But a guy can dream, can’t he?”
Malkah didn’t buy the deflection, but she let it go. Instead, she decided to try the back door.
“What do you make of Cyrus?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
“For the same reason you didn’t tell me.”
Malkah hid her surprise. Had Gideon sworn an oath of secrecy to Cyrus too? That would surely explain a few things.
“I didn’t know you knew him,” Gideon continued. “Had I known, I’m sure he’d have popped up in a conversation somewhere.”
“Yes, well, it seems like you two have a lot in common.”
“Tonight was only the second time we met. Sam introduced me to him the first time over some beer and Mexican food. He’s a mysterious fellow, that’s for sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“For starters, he has a phenomenal memory. The guy is a walking encyclopedia. He even knows the entire Bible by heart, which isn’t something one encounters every day. Also, the dude single-handedly took down three armed hitmen. I wonder where he got his training.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“Because the police were coming and he didn’t want to stick around, for obvious reasons. He fled the scene like a freaking ninja.”
What Gideon was telling her only seemed to confirm Cyrus’s story about having been a warrior cupid, and some secret yeshiva training grounds where he and his small team studied the ancient fighting arts. She wasn’t sure if this was good news or bad.
“Obvious reasons?” she repeated. “I don’t understand.”
“He has a police record. He also has no identification papers. As far as the authorities are concerned, he’s an illegal alien. That normally wouldn’t matter, but he’s not the kind of illegal that the authorities turn a blind eye to.”
“Couldn’t you and that Sam fellow get in trouble for covering up for him?”
“The cops had no idea. We told them it was some vigilantes. They bought it for now. The killers might contradict our story and insist it was one man, but the police will find it hard to believe that one guy could do what Cyrus did. It was dark and it all went down in a matter of seconds.”
“So, you don’t know anything about his background?”
“Nothing beyond his entrance onto the scene a few months back. That’s how I know Professor Matterson. The good professor had a beef with the guy and felt he needed investigating. He placed some phone calls, and since I was in the neighborhood with this new job, I was asked to check into it. I did. I concluded that the professor’s problem was more his wounded ego than anything Cyrus posed. Cyrus is a curiosity, but not a threat. Matterson didn’t like my conclusions, and that is where the slamming of the door came in, and,” he smiled, “my clumsy introduction to you.”
“Why would Matterson be interested in a guy like Cyrus?”
“Two reasons,” Gideon said. “One, he blames Cyrus for his initial break-up with your cousin. But there is a bigger reason. There is an election at the end of the year. It’s clear who will win. My sources tell me that Chauncey Matterson is in the running to be tapped as one of the new president’s seventy-five ‘czars.’ It’s unclear which idiotic department he would head, but that’s not important. The position and its power are irresistible to him. He felt that by fingering Cyrus as some sort of spy or the like, the publicity would guarantee him the spot.”
“Is Professor Matterson on Rosso’s payroll too?” Malkah asked.
“Yeah. He started some asinine NGO he calls, PUP—Psychologists United for Peace—and his top contributor is Rosso. He proudly showed me his invitation to the Rosso summit. The heads of all of Rosso’s many front groups are going to be there. Matterson was even given the job of helping the summit line up the caters.”
Alarmed, Malkah said, “He doesn’t know about these killings, does he?”
Gideon shook his head. “Only a select few could be privy to that kind of information. Matterson is just a useful idiot who gladly pimps himself out for ‘the cause’ in exchange for a little attention.”
“And you don’t think Ellen knows about any of this, do you?”
“No,” he said with assurance. “So there, you have my side of the story. Now, how is it you know Cyrus?”
“My tale is not nearly as involved as yours. He strolled into Saul’s one day. I thought he was a homeless guy. We chatted, and although I found him a little odd, he was nice, and I figured just another person down on his luck. I didn’t think I’d see him again. But then he reappeared weeks later. He seemed to be doing better by then.”
Malkah left off there, fearing that to go any further might bring uncomfortable questions that she would have to dance around.
“He’s the guy you said I reminded you of, isn’t he?”
She hesitated, and then nodded. “Yeah, sometimes.”
“Can I ask why?”
“You’re both big guys, handsome, confident, gentlemanly…that’s all.”
“Surely you’ve met many men who fit that description.”
“Hardly,” she snorted.
“Okay,” Gideon said, noting Malkah’s discomfort. “I was just wondering. For what it’s worth, I take it as a compliment that I remind you a little of him.”
“Why would you?”
“‘Cause I kinda like the guy.”
“Why?”
Gideon shrugged. “He’s genuine. There’s a greenness about him, though I think it’s more modesty than naiveté. I don’t know where he’s been and what he’s done, but I get the feeling he’s older and wiser than he lets on.”
“Older?”
“I mean he’s been around. And I think he knows things.”
“What kind of things? You mean like what Professor Matterson suspects?”
“No,” Gideon said. “Important things. Life-lesson sort of things.”
Malkah was aching to confide in Gideon, to open the floodgates and let pour out all the secrets Cyrus had shared with her—nutty or not, true or false—but she didn’t. She felt that the oath that he made her swear hung over her head like the sword of Damocles.
But there was something else on her mind that she wanted to clear up, and so she changed the subject. It had nothing to do with Cyrus or Rosso or angels or yetzers, or any of the other loony stuff. It was about them.
Malkah looked admiringly about the apartment and said, “It’s a shame that you will be giving up this nice place soon. I wish I could afford it.”
Gideon recognized the bait and agreed to nibble at it. “Considering that you’re now out of a job, it would be a reach for you, I suppose.”
Malkah gasped. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think of that! Saul was the sole owner of the restaurant. What will happen to it?”
“He probably left a will,” Gideon said. “But don’t expect the place to be re-opening any time soon.”
“Do you know how hard it is to find a job these days?” She moaned. “I li
ked that job! I know it was only a waitress job, but we liked working there, and with meals and tips we all managed to squeeze by. That son-of-a…Rosso not only murdered a man, he put fifteen people out of work!” She sighed heavily and her eyes welled. “Oh, Gideon, what are we going to do?”
“Maybe you can move in with your cousin Ellen.”
Malkah groaned at the thought, and slid deeper into the sofa, laying her head back in despair. “I’m so depressed.”
“Or,” Gideon said, taking her hand, “you could come with me.”
Malkah sat up, mouth open, but wordless.
Gideon smiled. “I’ve decided to take the offer out of the SFF, out of Phoenix. The SFF is still suffering the consequences of the old union. Drug cartels and human trafficking gangs have the run of huge swaths of the place, and nearly a third of it is off limits to civilians. No longer under the thumb of Washington, and so not having to fear its harassment, the SFF wants to secure its borders and fight back. They offered me a three-year contract to help them retool their anti-bad guy department. It’s my ticket out of this hellhole. Plus,” he grinned, “I can golf and play tennis year-round over there. Wanna come?”
Malkah looked at Gideon with her pooling eyes. He couldn’t tell if the tears were from joy or sadness.
“You play golf?” she said.
Gideon smiled. “No, but it would be a good excuse to learn. So, is that a yes?”
“A yes to what exactly?” Malkah asked.
She felt she was taking a big chance by putting pressure on Gideon, but she had to know where they stood.
Gideon reached into the pocket of his sport coat, and opening up a small, blue velvet covered ring box said, “Malkah Stern, will you marry me?”
Malkah was hoping for clarity, but she never imagined that clarity would come in the form of a sparkling diamond ring. She took the ring, and after mopping up her tears with a tissue, she tried it on. She held up her long, thin fingers and admired the ring in disbelief.
“It’s beautiful, Gideon. I…” She stopped and said, “Does this mean I don’t get a birthday present? Because I was really hoping for a gun.”
Gideon laughed. “Later we can go into the back room and you can take your pick. I was thinking of a Kahr PM9, or perhaps something in a Smith & Wesson.”
“Lessons,” Malkah said. “Does it include lessons?”
“After seeing you shoot, I don’t think you need any. But, if that is what it takes to sweeten the deal, as many as you want.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay what?”
Malkah pounced on top of Gideon and kissed him.
“I’ll marry you, you big weirdo. But, why did you wait till now? Why didn’t you ask me back at Saul’s when you first brought it up?”
“I was going to, but then the meatloaf arrived, and I was hungry.”
Malkah slapped him on the chest. “Men are so retarded.”
39
Swimming to Phoenix
Gideon insisted that Malkah take his bed and he the sofa. Six hours later she awoke to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of Gideon fixing breakfast. After she showered they sat down to eggs and toast.
As they ate they watched the morning news on television. There was a brief mention of Saul’s murder. The names of the assailants were withheld, and the story focused on whether Saul could have had mob ties, and that his brutal stabbing was a simple case of revenge for possible embezzlement. No evidence of mob ties was given. It was pure speculation backed by “unnamed sources.” The three murder suspects claimed innocence. They insisted that they were victims of the same killers, or possibly some rightwing vigilantes.
“Oh my God,” Malkah said, appalled. “They make it sound like the murderers did us a favor! Like Saul was some sinister gangster or something!”
Gideon gave her a told-you-so look, but said nothing.
“But-but, how can they get away with that?”
“Because Alexander Rosso owns controlling shares of the network?” Gideon posed.
“Then turn the channel and see what another station has to say,” Malkah insisted.
“It won’t do any good. He or one of his pals owns the others.”
“Then how are we supposed to get the truth?”
“We do,” Gideon said. “Their truth. A yarmulke-wearing Jew was stabbed multiple times outside his kosher deli and three suspects are being held for questioning. Police officers said they suspected vigilantes were involved. All true.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what you got from the story. Anyone watching left off thinking that Saul was a mobster who got what he deserved! They didn’t interview anyone who knew him and loved him. They didn’t mention all the good works he did. They made him sound like a creep!” Malkah was furious. “It’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t,” Gideon said. He gathered their plates and took them into the kitchen.
“I’ll wash those,” Malkah offered.
“Thanks, but I have to get to work. You mentioned something about seeing how Beverly was doing. I can drop you by her neighborhood on the way to work if you’re ready to go.”
Malkah was quiet in the car. So much had happened over the past twenty-four hours that it was almost too much to process. She was out of a job because her friend and boss was brutally murdered. Worse still, Malkah thought, Saul wasn’t going to be remembered as the caring and decent man that he truly was. Instead, he would be forever suspected of having been a shady character who had worked for the mob. The thought infuriated and disgusted her.
Then, there was her cousin, Ellen, who was engaged again to Chauncey Matterson, a man Malkah didn’t like one bit. Ellen was difficult, but Matterson was insufferable. The turn of events was sudden and dreadful, but not hard to believe.
But what she found the most incredible was her own actions. Had she really accepted the marriage proposal of a man who believed in angels and yetzers, Lamed-Vavniks, and conspiracy theories? And if marrying this ex-commando crackpot wasn’t harebrained enough, was she really prepared to follow the maniac to the despised SFF so that he could wage a war against drug lords and terrorists?
Like most young women, Malkah had craved change, but she never thought it could come so drastically, or look anything like this.
And yet, none of these things seemed to occur by her own doing. She felt as if she were just being swept along. What would she do in Arizona? Did Gideon want to start a family? And, oh my gosh, what about Bubby? Bubby would be devastated if she left. She was the only family that spent any time with her.
As if reading her mind, Gideon said, “I was thinking that maybe your grandmother could join us in Phoenix.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. From what you’ve told me, you are the closest to her, and so I think that she’d be heartbroken at you being so far away. Once we’re set up we will send for her. When it comes to getting exit visas for its elderly, the NPF is much more accommodating than it is with its ever-depleting young. They’ll be happy to be rid of her. Getting you out will be a little tougher, but I know a few tricks of the trade.”
Malkah almost started to cry. The concern in his voice touched her, and she didn’t know what to say. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, continuing to sense her bewilderment and apprehension. “Things will work out. I think we will make a great team.” He smiled and gave her a comforting wink.
Malkah returned the smile. “I want to be a team, Gideon. I don’t want to feel like I’m, you know, luggage or anything.”
“Hey,” he said, “none of that. We’re just getting started. Things will fall into place. We are going to build something good together, okay?”
“Like a family?” she said, wanting to get this issue off the table as soon as possible.
“I hope so, but I can understand if you want to wait a little. You want children, don’t you?” He said it like it was a given.
Most couples
Malkah knew were either childless, or chose to have one designer kid that they spoiled rotten, preferring to spend their hard-earned money on themselves in the form of fun and luxuries. They used the excuse that it was too expensive to raise kids, and besides, the world was overcrowded and a hopeless mess, so why bring another child into it? It was the noble thing to do, they insisted. She had had this conversation with Ellen more than once. Children did not interest Ellen.
Malkah understood their arguments, but she didn’t buy them. She thought that her friends were simply justifying their self-absorption. The social pressures were enormous, and decades of media propaganda had given people all the self-righteous rationalizations they needed to live lives of nihilistic pleasure seeking. It was all for the good of Mother Earth, after all. And what could be more pleasing to Mother Earth, the social engineers argued, than for Gaia’s children to abstain from childbearing, or to abort themselves into oblivion?
Of course, that didn’t stop a good portion of the rest of the world from breeding like rabbits, but political correctness dictated that one could not point that out because of the other’s creed, and the volatile, hair-trigger sensibilities that accompanied it. Outside the Muslim world, the Western world’s birthrate had plummeted to an average of 1.1 children, well below the replacement level of 2.1. An entire generation no longer knew what it was like to have a brother or sister or aunt or uncle or cousin.
Malkah was one of those who had no siblings, but because her grandmother had had three children, she at least had her cousin Ellen. They might not agree on much, she thought, and their relationship was chilly at times, but Malkah loved her, and when growing up, Ellen was like a sister. Even with their rivalry, Malkah was glad Ellen was around. Since almost none of Malkah’s friends had siblings either, many not even a cousin, she rarely gave such things much thought. But when she did pause to consider the odd situation that Western society had created for itself, it struck her as unnatural, freaky even.
Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3 Page 59
