The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy

by Sandy Nathan

  “I’ve got food and water in the shelter. We can last a long time.” Jeremy’s voice was firm. He seemed less a sixteen-year-old rich boy than a commando.

  “But first, we got to get there.” Henry’s deep voice had an edge. “I come prepared.” He pulled a black pistol out of his jacket. “If they come for me, they’ll remember it. Me or Lena or any of you. I’ve had enough of these people.”

  “Give that to me,” Jeremy said. “Now.”

  Henry ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Jeremy. I know you don’t hold with violence. I’ve been sitting in that booth for so long, expecting someone to take a shot at me. I just took it with me when I left. Didn’t mean no disrespect.”

  Jeremy made sure the safety was on and put the gun in his pocket. “I’ve got guns at the house. If we need to fight, we’ll be able to. The problem will be getting this through the checkpoints.” He patted his pocket.

  Eliana had been watching, not understanding everything that was happening. She could see one thing: Jeremy was the boss.

  Once they were settled and moving again, Lena seemed to notice her for the first time. “Oh, sweetheart!” She lurched across the passenger cabin and hugged her. Eliana hugged back, then waved at Henry, beaming. “Hi!” she said. “I’m here!”

  “Hi, baby,” Henry said with a smile. “Good to see you!”

  “Good to see me,” she said, and broke off one of the lilies in one of the bouquets Jeremy was holding. She popped it into her mouth. “Good!”

  Everyone laughed.

  James stood in front of the Pampered Pet Grooming Salon and Spa with two small fluffy dogs on leashes and a very large shopping bag in his arms. On his head, a baseball cap covered with multicolor paw prints pronounced him “The Dog Master.” The back of his matching paw-printed shirt said, “Dog Trainer to the Stars. If I can’t train it, you don’t want it in your house.” A name, Billy O’Dowd, was embroidered on the shirt’s front pocket.

  When the limo drove up, he tossed his shopping bag into the passenger compartment and then turned around to get the dogs. He pulled on the leashes. “Come on, kids. You love car rides. Let’s get in. Good doggies.” He spoke cheerily and smiled.

  The dogs planted their feet on the curb, pulling back as hard as they could with their twelve-pound bodies.

  “Get in here, you stinking little bastards,” he whispered. They snarled at him from the curb. He was able to get one into the car by pulling on its leash. He had to go back out to the curb and pick up the other one. It bit him savagely. He grabbed its muzzle, holding it shut while he jumped into the vehicle.

  They pulled out, with James swearing and shaking his hand. “Son of a bitch. I save his life, and he does this to me!”

  Everyone in the car guffawed.

  “Oh God, James,” Mel said. “I never thought I’d see you again.” He pulled his partner over and kissed him hard. They embraced and sat next to each other, holding hands. Mel’s chest heaved. “I thought they’d get you.”

  “Give me more credit, sweetie. They’d have to work hard to get me. I’m the king of liars.”

  “What the hell are you doing? What is this? And the dogs?”

  “It’s my cover. I stole a professional identity.”

  “There is a Dog Master?”

  “Mel, you should watch more daytime TV. You’re culturally deprived. Billy O’Dowd is the Dog Master. He is a national icon. His show plays in my salon every afternoon. When you didn’t return my calls, I knew something bad was up and called Arthur.” He nodded toward the front compartment. “He patched me in to Jeremy, who said it was worse than we thought. It’s tomorrow morning.”

  “So what’s this thing with the dogs?” Mel asked.

  “Mrs. Edgarton needs her dogs. She’s been away for a long time. The dogs have been with moi, the Dog Master, having their neuroses cleaned up. I have to get them to the Hamptons for her once-a-year visit with them.”

  “Where did you get the dogs?”

  “The pound. It’s sort of near my salon. I put down my cell phone, looked up at the Dog Master on TV, and walked to the pound. The rest is history, as they say.”

  “So you pretended to be this dog guy?”

  “Yeah. People say that I look like him. They ask me for his autograph even without my official uniform.” He patted the name on the shirt. “I have a friend who owns a t-shirt shop. She did this up. When I walked from her shop to the groomer’s with the dogs, people asked me for training tips. I had to pay double to get in right away, even being the Dog Master. I bought enough electrified gear at the shop to have the pooches flashing on and off.”

  They laughed again.

  “Shit! What are you doing? You rotten little—” Mel shook the piss off his slacks. “He peed on my leg!”

  “Yeah, that’s one of the things he does. The female just squats on your shoe. While I was waiting for you, I read how to handle it in Billy’s book. I got that at the groomer’s, too. But knowing these dogs as long as I have, I say: when we get there, turn them loose. I’m sure they’re better able to survive than cockroaches.”

  Everyone in the cabin burst out laughing.

  “Stop it.” Jeremy’s voice cut through the levity. At the sight of the dripping urine, Eliana’s eyes went wide. Her people had told her that liquid from people wouldn’t hurt her. Was moisture from animals OK? She pulled her legs onto the bench seat and leaned away from the dog. She withdrew so far that she was almost in Jeremy’s lap. He dropped the flowers onto the floor and leaned over the dogs.

  They approached him, baring their teeth. Jeremy’s hands darted out and grabbed their throats. “If you ever do that again, I will tear your heads off. Do you understand?” He growled the words as he held their throats. After he’d glared at them a bit longer, he released their necks. He made a downward motion with his hand. “Sit! Down.”

  The dogs hit the floor, where they lay, tongues lolling, looking at him adoringly.

  The cabin was silent, until James waved a book he’d pulled out of his shopping bag. “This is Billy O’Dowd’s best-selling book. What you did is called establishing dominance. You’re good, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy didn’t smile. The girl still clung to him.

  “Báslikay,” she said. “Shaq.” Then she buried her face in Jeremy’s jacket.

  18

  After breaking the math teacher, Val went home to clean up. She walked into her apartment and put her keys on the dining table, looking around to make sure nothing had been disturbed. The room looked the way it always did: stylish furniture, an aged but charming Persian rug, and signed art on the walls. Her home was a sleek, fashionable nest that expressed her personality perfectly.

  Her face hurt. Everything hurt. She went into the bathroom and took a pain pill. Maybe the medic was right; maybe she should have gone to the hospital. She sat down with a glass of wine in her living room to think and wait for the pill to work.

  This case would make her dreams come true. She had to make the collar, of course, but, when she did, everything would be all right. Her forehead tensed as she tried to find the pattern. All she could see was that kid’s severed leg and the blood. The wreckage. Her hands shook; she had to put her wine glass down.

  She was shivering. Her teeth clattered together. What was happening to her? What was this? Fear? She’d been through much worse than this. Why was she afraid now? What was it?

  And then she knew. Once she realized what the explosion reminded her of, everything that had happened knocked her down.

  “Oh...” Val gasped, leaning over. In her mind, the blast picked her up and threw her. She slammed against something, bouncing... and then everything was different. She looked up and bright sunlight surrounded her. The aqua of the pool glittered. She was back there, remembering everything about that day, every sound and color. Every word.

  She had flown through the air, her fall broken when her back smashed against something. She had bounced and landed again.

  Val gasped, trying to force the
images down. She failed. Whenever she remembered, she could see the aqua blue of the pool, the cement around it, and the iron rails.

  “It’s your fault, you stupid bitch!” her father had screamed.

  “I didn’t mean it, Daddy. You said kick harder...” She remembered seeing her sister lying on the judo mat where she’d fallen.

  “You ruined everything,” he’d roared. She’d been shaking, the way she was shaking now. When he had struck her, she’d spun and half fallen. She’d tried to run, but he was faster than she was. She remembered the noises he’d made, like an animal. His face was like an animal’s, snarling and vicious. He’d picked her up and run through the open doors onto the balcony.

  “You ruined it!” he screamed. He whirled and threw her as though she were nothing. Her back hit the iron railing; she bounced to the pool deck. She was sixteen.

  When she came to in the hospital, that life was gone. She never saw her father or sisters again. She’d killed her little sister, one of the six girls who’d grown up in the pink room beneath her father’s home. They’d been sparring. He’d raised them to be killers.

  She was supposed to be a rich man’s wife; she was supposed to have everything—he’d promised them—if they did what he said. Her father had had husbands chosen for each of them. Rich, influential men who controlled the country. The girls would marry, and then do the jobs for which he’d trained them: kill their husbands so no one knew they’d done it and turn what they inherited over to him. They were his weapons, adopted from state institutions to serve his purpose.

  She’d never thought he was crazy. Her life seemed normal, all six of them living in the pink room and training endlessly to carry out his plan. He would be the richest man in the country when it was done. He was already rich, but not as wealthy as he deserved to be.

  “I didn’t mean to do it,” Val whispered, gulping her wine. “It was an accident.”

  Her chic apartment receded. The pale walls were miles away; the burgundy sofa, the signed prints on the walls—all were beyond reach. The railing had broken a bone in her spine. They’d fixed it, sort of. She’d had three operations.

  “I wasn’t supposed to last this long,” she whispered. “I was supposed to die.”

  Her father had put her in the army, using his influence to make them take her, even thought she was underage and had a bad back. She was on the front for four years. Where? Jungles and deserts, places she’d never heard of. The army had completed the education her father had begun. The bureau had taken her in a moment. She was made for the Anti-Terrorism Unit. She was a breaker. No one could withstand what she would do to them.

  Val shook. The bright lights and sensation of flying wouldn’t go away. She knew what it was. She was bound to have a reaction to what had happened this morning. This was it.

  When she’d walked into the interrogation room to help Will finish that old man, she’d come from meeting with their boss. She’d had no premonition of what was going to happen when he called her upstairs: it was time for her normal review. She had expected to be promoted. She had the highest break ratio of anyone; the information she got was always good.

  “I’m pleased to congratulate you, Valerie.” Her supervisor stood and shook her hand when she entered his office. “You’re quite a patriot. You’ve come to the attention of people at the top. We’re going to give you a special assignment.”

  She’d walked out of his office moments later, stiff with shock. They were sending her to the front. No one went to the front twice. They were sending her to her death.

  “But, sir, my break ratio. I’m the best...” she’d stammered.

  “Valerie, you know the problem,” he said, looking like a wise old uncle. “You’ve gone over the line. Do your best, Valerie. Don’t hold back,” he said. “When you’re on the front, there are no rules.”

  Her eyes focused on the refrigerator. She shouldn’t do it. It was too soon; she had done it yesterday. The bright lights and sparkling water flooded her again, blotting everything out—everything but the pain.

  19

  “Look at that.” James pointed to the levee. “I didn’t know there were dams around the city.” They had to drive up and out of Manhattan. A concrete dam held back the Atlantic Ocean.

  “I told you about it,” Mel said. “The ocean rose long ago when the ice caps melted. They built that”—he pointed at the huge structure—“instead of letting New York City drown.”

  “I never realized it was that big.” James had never left the city. The only people he knew who’d been outside were in the car: Jeremy, Henry, Mel, and Arthur. Even Mel hadn’t been where they were going. Passing through the checkpoints was too dangerous for someone with a false identity.

  “Look at that.” James pointed out the window after they’d driven a while. “Is that from bombing?” Shopping centers and houses were covered with the almost tropical vegetation that grew during the summer. “It’s like a war zone.”

  “It is a war zone, son,” Henry replied.

  “Who are we fighting?”

  “I don’t know. Ourselves, maybe.” Henry shrugged. “Whoever we’re fighting, they’ll never tell us. Or even that we are fighting.”

  At the checkpoint, a tall chain link fence with strands of razor wire along the top ran across the freeway and out of sight on both sides. There were three guard towers, one on each side of the freeway and another on a larger building in the grassy area at the center of the highway. They could see guards patrolling the towers. They carried automatic weapons.

  Traffic was piled up at openings like tollgates, but wider. An overhead canopy provided some shelter for the booths. Mostly, the canopy was a billboard. Flashing lights spelled out “Mandatory checkpoint. Stop for inspection!” in yellow lights. Big trucks used a couple of lanes on the outside, and other vehicles fit in wherever they could. Each vehicle was checked, those going back to the city as well as those leaving.

  The long black vehicle didn’t sit in line long. It was flagged ahead, leapfrogging in front of the other cars. Arthur put his window down when he got to the guard.

  “Mrs. Edgarton’s car?” the officer on duty asked, checking his clipboard and the license plate. He looked like he was maybe twenty years old, and a punk. His hands trembled, just knowing who was inside.

  “Yes.” Arthur had all the paperwork, and a smooth cover prepared.

  They had rehearsed it, of course. The limo was built with two compartments. In the front compartment, Arthur occupied the driver’s seat. Also in front were Henry and Lena, the groceries, James, his bag of dog-taming implements, and the two Lhasa Apsos. Jeremy, Eliana, and Mel sat in the back in silence.

  Their cover story required that Mrs. Edgarton be with them. If she were not, the checkpoints would expect another limo carrying the lady herself.

  “Mrs. Edgarton is going to the Hamptons?”

  “Yes, she is. To her estate. The permit says that.”

  “How long is she staying?”

  “As long as she wants. It’s an open-ended permit.” A bit of exasperation tinged Arthur’s voice. “Can we talk to Captain Laughlin? He usually helps us.”

  A sadistic smirk ran across the kid’s face. “He’s busy handling some smugglers.” His eyes darted toward the central guard tower.

  “Well, if he’s free soon, we’d love to talk to him.” Arthur had his bribe under his seat, a nice bit of technology Jeremy had come up with, priceless on the black market.

  James felt his heart beating as he handed over his identification. Had his friend in the t-shirt shop forged the Dog Master’s papers so they would fool a guard? What about his travel permit?

  The guy looked at the paperwork. “You’re the Dog Master?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Edgarton’s dogs have been with me for quite a while.”

  The dogs noticed the guard and began growling at him.

  “They’re actually guard dogs, from the Tibetan monasteries. I’ve been tuning them up for her.” He wanted to try a trick li
ke Jeremy did and order them around, but didn’t know if they’d comply. “Down!” he said commandingly. Amazingly, the dogs downed and looked at him happily.

  “Would you like an autographed copy of my book? I have an extra.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  “No,” Lena said, “he’s trying to get us out of here before my roast spoils. Mrs. Edgarton loves that rare roast beef. An’ we’re trying to get to the Hamptons so she can eat it before midnight.”

  “Hand me your papers, lady. And you, too, old man.”

  Two more guards drifted over. “Mrs. Edgarton in there?”

  “They say she is.” The kid puffed up with the attention.

  “If she is, you better be careful, Josh. You’re likely to lose your job if you mess with her.”

  “The law applies to everyone. There are some irregularities in her travel plans.” He held the travel permit out. “How did she get from the airport?”

  James knew that Jeremy had posted phony tickets for his mother flying from Argentina with an undisclosed friend. If she was flying with the man she was supposed to be hanging out with in Buenos Aires, they’d have used a military plane and wouldn’t need tickets. If she was with the general, they’d go right through.

  “Open the back of this vehicle, now.” The punk moved over to the side of the long passenger compartment, hand on his gun. Other guards followed, looking apprehensive. The kid put a heavy-soled boot on the side of the car, and motioned to two others to use the butts of their weapons to break in the windows.

  In the rear compartment, Mel sat frozen. Jeremy leaned toward the door, holding Henry’s pistol at ready. He took off the safety.

  Eliana’s hand was on Jeremy’s back. She appeared to be listening to something. She began to speak, “Oh, my dear. I’d love to come out and meet you...” A chuckle emerged from her throat, a charming, provocative sound that promised everything. “But I’m not dressed...”