The Ethical Assassin

by David Liss

  Chapter 29

  I WASN’T SURE I WANTED TO GO to the pool that night. What I wanted was to keep a low profile, to slink through the rest of the weekend without making anyone else hate me, without having any more conflicts with Ronny Neil and Scott. Or the Gambler. Or Bobby. On the other hand, if I was never going to come back, then I was never going to see Chitra again, not unless I arranged to see her. So maybe that was what I needed to concentrate on.

  I looked out the window to the pool area. People were beginning to congregate. No sign of Chitra, though. I could go out there, have a couple of beers, and see if she showed up.

  I left the room and went down the stairs, this time unhindered, and began to make my way across the path. I walked quickly, with my head down, the way I did when I was lost in concentration, and the noise was almost drowned out by the sound of my own footsteps. That is, it would have been drowned out by the sound of my own footsteps if there hadn’t been a voice my whole nervous system had been wired to hear. I had become like a radar dish, tuned to one signal, and when that signal was anywhere in the air, my dish rotated toward it.

  It was Chitra’s voice, musical and lilting. But this time it was not so soft. It was strident.

  “Ronny Neil, please.”

  A couple of vending machines stood behind the building with the check-in desk. More than once I’d heard couples making out in there when I came back to my room late at night. Only now it was Chitra back there. With Ronny Neil.

  Were they having a fight? Could she have lied to me so brazenly about her connection with Ronny Neil? Was she so foolish, and was I so foolish as to have believed her?

  “I got me a double today,” I heard Ronny Neil say.

  I took a step closer.

  “Yes, that’s nice, but you brought me here under false pretenses. I don’t want to stay.”

  “Sure you do, baby.”

  “No, Ronny Neil. Take your hand off of me. I don’t want to stay.”

  “Give me one kiss. Come on. It ain’t so hard.”

  I knew this was a gift. I could walk right up to that vending machine and be the hero. If I rescued Chitra, there would be no going back. The only problem was, I didn’t know how to rescue her. I wished Melford were here, with his gun and his bravado and his cool disposition. Melford would know exactly what to do.

  I looked around, as though the answer might be somewhere nearby. I heard voices from the pool, laughter, the grating sound of patio furniture sliding against the rough chattahoochee. And there was the throbbing in my head, the veins or arteries or whatever they were in my temples thumping, thumping like the pulsating gong of cowardice. I felt sure I was going to walk away. Chitra could take care of herself, for a few more minutes, anyhow. I would get a couple of guys, and we would all come back. My role would be diminished, but Chitra would be safe and the risk would be spread more comfortably.

  I felt sure I was going to walk away, but that wasn’t how it happened. I pushed my way through the bushes and found Chitra pinned to the Coke machine. Her head was flush against the bright red façade of it, her ponytail squished, her face in a glowing mask of fear and contempt. Ronny Neil stood right before her, bent over slightly, holding hard to her wrist.

  I wanted to shout something melodramatic and absurd, but I choked down the words, because the thing was, Melford might be crazy, he might be a homicidal freak, but he still knew a thing or two about the world and about human nature.

  “Hey, guys,” I said. “What’s going on?” I walked past Chitra and toward the soda machine, then fished into my pocket for some change. My hands were shaking badly, but I was certain I could keep everything under control. I turned to Chitra. “Excuse me for a sec,” I said.

  She stepped forward, and I slid the coins into the slot and pushed the button for a Sprite.

  Not that which soda I picked made a difference. I could have pressed the button for goat piss if it were on there, for all it mattered. But the Sprite landed at the bottom with a hollow and metallic thud, and I took it out, popped the top, and turned back to the two of them.

  “What’s up with you two?” I asked. I kept the wavering in my voice to a minimum.

  “Why don’t you fuck off?” Ronny Neil said.

  I shrugged, as though I’d been asked if I had plans for the weekend. “I don’t know,” I said. “Never really thought about it.”

  “What?” Ronny Neil sneered.

  “I don’t know why I don’t fuck off,” I explained. “I’m not in the mood to fuck off right now, I guess.” I looked over at Chitra. “You want to take a walk or something?”

  The thinnest of smiles appeared on her lips, as though she suddenly understood the game. “Yes,” she said. The smile was growing. “I think I’d like that very much.”

  I looked over at Ronny Neil. “See you back at the room.”

  Easy as that, we walked away.

  ***

  We crossed through the registration area, where Sameen gave me a curious glance, and then out to the pool area. We figured, without discussing it, that Ronny Neil wouldn’t follow us that way. I stopped to toss out the Sprite and pick up a couple of tall boys from the cooler, because, holy hell, I needed a beer. I handed one to Chitra and then opened my own. It didn’t taste all that much different from the Sprite when you came down to it, but it was good. I needed a drink. I’d never needed a drink in that manly way before, but I needed one now.

  I was calmer than I would have thought, maybe even than I should have been. My heart pounded and my hands still trembled, but I didn’t care. The grateful heat emanating from Chitra, her appreciative silence, her relieved and amused smile, were all like the pendulous watch of a hypnotist.

  We walked past the pool and back to the cloister of the motel. I had no idea where we were going, and I could tell Chitra had no idea, either. None of the book people were staying in this part of the building. We went up the stairs and walked along the second-story balcony, looking out over the railing, painted white but with rust showing through. We stopped where the floor turned, filling out the boomerang shape of the wing. Here was another pair of vending machines- food and beverage- and a groaning ice machine as well.

  Now Chitra was leaning up against a vending machine again, and there I was, just like Ronny Neil, slouching in front of her. Only this time she was smiling. She took my hands.

  “You’re very clever,” she said.

  “That makes one of us. What were you doing behind the bushes with that idiot?”

  She laughed, and her caramel-colored skin darkened with a blush. “He told me that the vending machine had some sort of Indian soft drinks in it. I can’t believe I fell for it.”

  “Me either. Wow.”

  She laughed. “I know it sounds foolish, but this motel is owned by Indians, you know. It was possible.”

  “True enough,” I agreed. “They have that chutney-o-matic in the lobby.”

  She was still laughing. “You can stop making fun of me now.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Maybe I will.”

  We said nothing for a long time. She held my eyes and we grinned. I knew I ought to kiss her. I knew it. But she was from India. How did they do things there? I might offend her. Maybe kissing was the last thing on her mind, and she was involved in some mysterious Hindu gratitude ritual, and if I tried anything, she’d hate me. I’d be as bad as Ronny Neil.

  But then she was no longer holding my hands. She had her hands on my arms, and she was rubbing them back and forth. I took a step forward, and Chitra reached out and put her hands behind my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.

  Her lips were soft and warm, and I could feel her breath swirling around in my mouth in little eddies. And then she pulled away again. And smiled.

  I had sort of been hoping for something more passionate, more bodice ripping. On the other hand, I liked the slow sweetness of it.

  “I’m glad you were the one who rescued me,” she said. “I would have hated to have to kiss Scott that way.”
<
br />   “I’d have hated that, too. Listen, Chitra. You look really beautiful by the light of that Coke machine. Don’t get me wrong. But I’m wondering if we might go somewhere else a little more, you know, private.”

  “Are you trying to get me to go back to your room?” she asked.

  I let out a nervous laugh that even I thought sounded dorky. “So we can see Ronny Neil again? It wasn’t really what I had in mind. Frankly, I was thinking of anyplace with chairs. We could call a cab, get a drink or something. Just so long as we get away from here.”

  “Do you want to go get a hamburger?”

  “No,” I said. “I really don’t.”

  “Me either. I’ll stop teasing you. You know, it’s amazing how you don’t notice the things all around you. You don’t imagine possibilities, even when those possibilities are right in front of your face.”

  I stared at her. It sounded too damn much like something Melford would say. “Chitra, I really like you, but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Her big eyes, dark and wide, locked on mine. “What I’m talking about is that rooms at this motel only cost thirty-nine dollars per night.”

  I felt as though I’d been kicked in the stomach by the most pleasant foot on earth. I was scared, even terrified. I wanted to say no, to put on the brakes, but that was another form of cowardice, and I knew it.

  “Really?” I said.

  “I’m quite sure. There’s a big sign out front with the price.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant. I’d like to get a room with you. I don’t know what will happen in it, but I think I can trust you. I just want to get away from everyone and everything for a while, to talk in private, to have our own space. I know a motel room is suggestive, but I can trust that nothing will happen that I am not ready for. Can’t I?”

  “Of course you can,” I told her, strangely relieved that I might not have to lose my virginity just yet. “You know,” I said, “if they find out, they’ll fire you.”

  “I don’t want to come back. Not if you’re not going to be here anymore.”

  This time the foot in the stomach was not quite so pleasant. I hadn’t told anyone about not planning on coming back, not even Melford. “How did you know that?”

  “Come on. I saw you getting out of your friend Melford’s car tonight. It’s clear you’re not even trying to sell anymore.”

  “That’s pretty complicated,” I said.

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  “I want to, but I can’t right now.”

  “Is everything okay? I mean, he’s not getting you involved in anything dangerous or reckless, is he?”

  I didn’t want to lie to her directly, so I approached it obliquely. “Melford’s a complicated guy.”

  “I notice you haven’t answered me. I still think there’s something strange about him.”

  “There’s nothing that’s not strange about him. But my not selling isn’t really his doing. It’s mine. I don’t want to do this anymore. The money is good, but it’s not worth it.”

  “I know what you mean. I made so much money last weekend that I hardly even noticed how miserable I was. But this weekend it feels more like a forced march. I was looking forward to seeing you again this weekend, and if you’re not going to be here, I think I would be miserable.”

  I couldn’t believe I was hearing these sweet words. I felt unworthy. “I feel the same way,” I said. Stupidly, I thought.

  She laughed a little. “My father will be happy to hear about this. We need the money, but he hates me doing door-to-door sales.”

  “You think he’ll like me better than Teddy?”

  “His name is Todd. And as long as you are neither Todd nor Pakistani, everything is negotiable.”

  “Well, there’s two things going for me. So, let’s get a room,” I told her. “It’s on me.”

  “A woman loves a big spender.”

  We turned to head back to the stairs, and we both stopped in our tracks. Bobby was standing there, arms folded, eyes little slits of judgment.

  ***

  “They told me you came this way.” Bobby was glaring at us. At me, really. His round face was red. His eyes were red, too, as though he’d been crying.

  I opened my mouth to make some lame excuse, like we were just getting an orange soda. I decided to save it.

  “The Gambler wants you in his room right now,” Bobby said.

  There was something dark in his voice. It took me a moment to put my finger on it, but once I found it there was no mistake. It was more than anger. Rage.

  “What for?”

  “Just come along.”

  I looked at Chitra. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave Chitra alone. Ronny Neil sort of attacked her before, and he might still be hanging around, looking for trouble. It’s not safe.”

  “No one likes a tattler,” Bobby told me.

  “A tattler? You can’t tattle on attempted rape.”

  Bobby seemed unmoved. But Chitra put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll go down to the pool, make sure I stay with other people.”

  “Don’t go anywhere alone.”

  She smiled. “I won’t.”

  Bobby sensed that our farewell had run its course, so he pushed me forward.

  I watched Chitra descend the stairs, and only when I saw her get to the pool safely did I turn my attention back to Bobby.

  “So what’s this all about?”

  “Like you don’t know,” Bobby said.

  “No, I don’t know. Tell me.” But it could only be about one thing, I figured. Bobby had said something to the Gambler about seeing me in his room, and the chain reaction led to my being dragged off there. My leg muscles stiffened, and I was within seconds of darting off, but then Bobby said something else.

  He said: “Christ, you don’t deserve it, but I didn’t say anything to him about your being in his room. You fucked me over, but not enough for me to want to see you get your ass seriously messed up. He’d kill you if he found out.”

  Okay, so this wasn’t about my being in his room. “I appreciate your not saying anything, but if the Gambler doesn’t know about that, then what is this about?”

  “Come off it, Lem. You lied to me and you made me look bad. Maybe so bad that I won’t be able to keep my job.”

  “What are you talking about? How did I lie to you?”

  “Give it up. Isn’t it obvious that you’ve been found out?”

  “Bobby, I have no idea what you mean.”

  Bobby let out a sigh. “The reporter,” he said. He then looked at me with a kind of “I dropped the bomb on you, baby” smile.

  “The reporter? What about the reporter?”

  “The guy from The Miami Herald. He’s in the Gambler’s room.”

  That sounded like bad news. Hick cop Jim Doe might be too stupid and too invested in his own crimes to figure out what the hell had happened with Bastard and Karen, but a reporter from The Miami Herald was something else entirely. But if I had reason to be afraid, I didn’t know why Bobby had reason to be angry.

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “I thought you were too smart to stab me in the back. Especially after everything I did for you. And if you’re not going to be too smart to stab me in the back, I’d hope you’d at least be smart enough to cover your own ass. Did you even tell the guy you weren’t supposed to help him out? If you had, he might not have come knocking on the Gambler’s door.”

  “Bobby, this is all a big mistake, and when I meet this guy he’s going to tell you it was all a big mistake. Believe me, I have no interest in talking to any reporters.”

  “Sure,” Bobby said.

  We were now outside the Gambler’s door. Bobby gave it a curt, irritated knock, and in an instant the Gambler opened up. He flashed a murderous glance and mouthed something that I couldn’t quite get.

  Sitting near a glass table by the far window sat a m
an in a white linen suit with a black T-shirt. His eyes were hidden behind his glasses, but I had the feeling he wasn’t looking at me. Not really. I thought that odd, and I thought that he didn’t look like any reporter I had ever seen. Not that I’d ever seen any in real life, but this guy was way more Miami Vice than Lou Grant.

  When the door opened wider I saw another man, sitting on the opposite side of the glass table. A steno pad rested against one folded knee, and he twirled a felt-tip pen, fingers twitching with desire to write. This clearly was the reporter.

  It was Melford.

  Chapter 30

  I STARED AND STARTED TO SPEAK, but I checked myself. I’d never asked what Melford did for a living, and he might as well be a reporter as anything else. He might as well sell me down the river as anything else, too. But the thing was, Melford wasn’t going to screw me over lightly, not when we knew each other’s secrets the way we did. At least that’s what I had to assume.

  So the best thing to do was to sit tight and follow Melford’s lead and hope to hell this thing didn’t turn out to be the total disaster it looked like.

  Bobby took a seat on the dresser, the Gambler on the bed. I eyed the older man with the linen suit, to whom I hadn’t been introduced. I had the sense that this guy was important, that he was maybe beyond names or something scary like that. Like maybe this was B. B. Gunn.

  “So, you’re Lem,” Melford said, standing up. “Melford Kean. It’s finally nice to meet you in person.” He held out a hand. His hair had been combed back. He looked almost like a regular person, though a tall and pale one.

  We shook. “Um, we’ve never met before in any form. In person or out of person.”

  “Lem,” Melford said with a grave voice. He shook his head as he sat back down. “It’s clear to me now that you weren’t supposed to talk to me. If during our phone conversations you had told me that, I wouldn’t have betrayed your confidence. But you didn’t tell me, did you?”