by James Mills
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s the position of the people on the lawn?”
“Number two just got up and moved over where he’s between number one and the Trade Commission. Then he sat down again. The female’s sort of over to the side, a little out of it.”
“Would someone in the Trade Commission have a shot at number one?”
“Hard to tell from this angle, but I don’t think it’d be a clear shot. Number two’s pretty much between number one and the TC windows, from the best I can see.”
Iverson put the phone down, looked at the agent in the tie. “Would they shoot Aguilera?”
“Aguilera knows the plan, knows the time.”
Iverson picked up the phone again. “Oster, how good a shot would they have from the windows at number two?”
“Number two? Like I said, it’s hard to tell from this angle, we’re a half mile away, a lot of elevation, but I’d say pretty good, he’d have a pretty uninterrupted line of fire.”
Aguilera said, “I need to see my watch.”
“You worried, Rubi?”
“What time is it?”
Carl lifted his hand and held his own watch in front of his eyes.
“Guess. What time you think it is?”
Helen saw the movement again, certain this time. Someone was in the window.
Aguilera said, “Don’t play games, my friend, this is serious.”
Carl said, “Oh, really? Serious? Now it’s serious? Let me tell you something, asshole—excuse me, Helen—this started getting serious the minute your nasty little ass was born. How many people you killed, Rubi? Don’t tell me. How many women you tortured, you brave, macho load of crap? Now it’s serious. ‘Cause it’s your ass cuffed to the tree. You know what, Rubi? If it wasn’t for the judge and his daughter, I might just walk off and leave you cuffed to that tree. See how macho you really are. Laugh your way outta that.”
“You’re trying to scare me. Forget it, friend, you don’t scare me.”
“Then stop asking what time it is.”
“That thing goes off, it’ll kill the judge.”
“Well, that’s the idea, right? Why you put it there? Now you’re worried about the judge?”
“You’re the one worried about the judge, not me.”
“Not you, you don’t care who gets blown up, just as long as your ass isn’t around. Whaddya think your friends in there are thinking about this, Aguilera, watching from the windows? They’re watching, aren’t they?”
So Carl had seen it too.
Aguilera chuckled, enjoying the game.
Carl said, “Right, they’re not any dumber than you are. You think they’re worried, figure you might tell me when the bomb’s going off?”
“They know I wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t what, Rubi? Wouldn’t tell, right? So you do know, you little bastard, and it’s not three A.M. You’re not only vicious, you’re stupid, you know that? Let a dumb old DEA agent trick you like that. Your friends in there knew how stupid you were, they’d put a bullet right through your head. Figure you’re gonna tell me the time, let me get the judge and the girl out, they’ll shoot you dead. That right?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“If I were you, Rubi, I think I’d try to sort of just scoot around the other side of the tree there, put a little wood be tween me and the commission windows. What about that? You want me to give you a hand?”
“I don’t need your help. No one’s gonna shoot me.”
“Suit yourself. They don’t kill you, the bomb will.”
“You talk too much.”
“Tell me what time and I’ll shut up.”
“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.”
He laughed.
“I like your laugh, Rubi. You’ve got a really nice laugh.”
“I like to laugh, I laugh. What can I tell you? Why not laugh? Life’s a laugh, is that right?”
“I’m disappointed in you, Rubi. You said three A.M., and you lied. You don’t know how to tell the truth. Been so long, you forgot.”
“You never lie, right?”
“Talking to you, I wouldn’t do anything else. Complete waste of time, telling you the truth. You know what a preacher said to me, Rubi? He said the devil’s the father of lies, couldn’t tell the truth if he wanted to. That’s you, Rubi.”
Aguilera let his mouth drop open. Then he laughed.
“A preacher. You’re really funny, you know that? A preacher.”
Helen saw something change in Carl. He’d found an opening, or thought he had—a knife he could twist, maybe provoke Aguilera into saying something useful. Carl hesitated, watching Aguilera’s grinning face.
Then Carl said, “He was talking about the devil. I thought that’d interest you, Rubi.”
Aguilera moved his crossed legs, nervous. His face was a blank.
“You don’t believe in the devil?”
Aguilera was silent.
“You believe in God, Rubi?”
“God!”
“Your mother believes in God.”
“My mother’s dead.”
Carl said he’d seen a profile of Aguilera. How much was in it?
“Believed in God. Didn’t she?”
“What do you care about that?”
“Believed in all that stuff, right? God? The devil? Stuff like that?”
Aguilera didn’t answer.
“Did she know you blow up children?”
“I never blew up children.”
“Just put the bomb in the bus. She’d forgive you for that, right? A very forgiving person, your mother. You ever forgive anyone, Rubi? That wife you beat all the time, and your kids, you ever forgive them for anything? You catch your wife in bed with her boyfriend, you forgive that?”
“My wife never had a boyfriend.”
“Oh, come on, Rubi. No boyfriend, just customers, is that it? She’s probably screwing some guy right now. You run off to blow people up, do your job, away from home working hard, earn a living for your family, and that’s all the thanks you get, that’s how she repays you, sleeps with every young stud in town. How you gonna forgive her for that? I’ll bet even God—”
“Shut up! I’m tired of listening to your stupid mouth.”
“Take it easy, Rubi. Easy, easy. Don’t get all upset. We’re just having a few laughs, talking while we wait for you to tell me when the bomb’s gonna go. You better tell me soon. Remember, I need half an hour to get everyone out. I might even leave you cuffed to that tree for another half hour while I walk the rest of us out of here. Come back and get you later. You wouldn’t want something to happen before I got back.”
“You wouldn’t come back.”
“Well, that’d be terrible. So be nice to me, Rubi. I’d never do that to a friend. Of course, if you really pissed me off, I’d be tempted.”
Aguilera shifted his cramped body. He looked exhausted, his face less determined, almost out of smiles. Helen began to feel as if she were watching a wax man, the face slowly melting into expressions less and less contrived.
“What time, Rubi? We still got plenty of time?”
“Please show me your watch.”
“Please. Now that’s more like it. The magic word, I tell my kids.”
Carl glanced at his watch.
“It’s seven to midnight.”
“Show it to me.”
“Trust me. I say it’s seven to midnight, it’s seven to midnight. You’re the liar, the devil’s friend, right?”
The Puerto Rican agent said, “They’re really steamed in there.”
He didn’t have to tell Iverson. You could hear it in the voices. They were back on the speakers. Baker post had been relegated to headsets.
The Puerto Rican agent said, “It sounds like a cockfight.”
Iverson said, “Keep it coming, what’re they saying?”
“They’re debating his balls and his loyalty.”
“His?”
“Rubi. Is he gonna sit there and ge
t blown up.”
“No mention of the explosion time?”
Iverson had been asking that about every ten seconds. And about the woman on the lawn. Who the hell was the woman?
“No. They just talk about the time, el tiempo, but they don’t say what it is.”
“What’s their feeling—Rubi’s gonna give it up or not?”
“They’re not sure. But they’re real nervous about it. One of ‘em keeps saying, ‘It’s him or us,’ like if he gives up the time something bad’s gonna happen to them.”
Iverson said, “That’s for sure. Something bad’s gonna happen to them no matter what he does. Who’s in charge, would you guess, the guy who wants to shoot him or the one who doesn’t?”
“Hard to tell. They’re both yelling. But they can’t shoot him ‘cause they can’t get a clear line on him.”
“Unless they drop the other guy first.”
“Well, yeah, take out him and the woman, and you don’t have to worry about Rubi. He wouldn’t have anyone to tell even if he wanted.”
Samantha awoke to hear Gus snoring.
She straightened in the seat and listened. Snarl, whistle. Snarl, whistle. Snarl, whistle. Her father was more of a choke, snort, choke, snort. She’d never heard Doreen snore. Probably Doreen didn’t snore. Probably Doreen didn’t sleep.
She was so hot, so thirsty, so hungry, so dirty, so tired. She wanted to go to the bathroom, but couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the limo for the even worse smell of the garage.
She waited as long as she could, then quietly, slowly, listening to Gus’s snores, she cracked open the limousine door and stepped softly into the garage. She tiptoed a few steps, and stooped. She finished, stood, and started back to the limo.
She thought of water—cold water from the refrigerator. Ice. Clean air. Maybe the air conditioner was still on. Just for a minute—the bomb wouldn’t go off in the next minute.
She walked over and turned the knob on the hallway door. In the darkness, she found her way to the kitchen. She took a half-filled bottle of milk from the refrigerator and tipped it up to her mouth.
A sudden sound made her jump. Milk ran over her chin onto her shirt. She was scared, frozen. Ringing in the dark, sharp and piercing. The telephone. Just the telephone. Calm down. Probably a wrong number. She let it ring.
She left the kitchen and went to a vertical row of jalousie windows along the side of the front door and looked out. The moon was bright. Long, eerie shadows caused by a gloomy kind of leftover light came from way down past the end of the block. The ringing had stopped. The Mercedes sat there at the curb. Everything looked so quiet and peaceful. She longed for just one deep breath of the fresh night air.
She walked to the front door and gave the handle a twist. Locked. She found the key on the metal key board in the Box, then walked back and opened the front door. She stepped out and stood for a moment on the front porch.
Then she saw them—three people sitting in the shadows on the grass across the street. Her heart jumped. The people frightened her more than the Mercedes.
She backed quickly into the house, returned to the garage, slipped into the limo, closed the door, and felt safe again.
She relaxed, reassured by Gus’s steady snoring. Snarl, whistle. Snarl, whistle. Snarl, whistle.
24
Carl looked at his watch.
“Past midnight, Rubi. How much time we have? Lots, I hope. I got so much more to say, and I got a lot of questions to ask about your mother and your wife and kids. I read this profile someone gave me. Very thorough. They must’ve talked to your whole family, all your friends, colleagues, know all about you. That happens when you get sent to Washington. Big time. Everyone wants to know all about you. Wife’s name’s Maria. Three kids, Vincent, Gilberto, Ismelda. See, I know.”
“That’s a lotta crap.”
“No, no it’s not. You know it’s true. You really interest me, Rubi. I mean, your wife, Maria. Now, how’d she happen to marry you? No offense, but a guy who makes his living blowing up children, most women wouldn’t think that was a first-rate career choice. What’s she say about your job?”
Aguilera moved his legs and glanced at the Trade Commission’s windows. Helen thought he might be hoping they’d shoot him and get this over with.
“Don’t wanta talk about your wife. Don’t blame you. Lots of painful stuff there, screwing all the neighbors. Okay, let’s talk about your mother. Mrs. Aguilera. A good churchgoer, must’ve told you about God when you were growing up, right? So how come you’ve got it all wrong now? Excuse me? You say something?”
Aguilera had groaned. “These cuffs are hurting. They’re too tight.”
“That’s your fault. The more you squirm the tighter they get. Sit still and it’ll be all right. Tell me what time, and I’ll take them off, walk you outta here.”
“Forget it.”
Carl said, “Where were we? Yeah, your mother, telling you about God and you getting it all wrong. Acts have consequences, she told you that, right? Something like that? That’s why you’re here, makin’ love to a tree, listening to me, cuffs hurting. How’re the legs? Cramped. Sorry about that. But look at it this way, it’s all just the natural consequences of a rotten life, doing all the bad things you do. Take the judge in there. You know lots of judges, Rubi. They’ve got judges in Colombia. You’ve killed a few, for sure. They kill judges all the time in Colombia, right? No kids to blow up today, let’s go out and kill a judge. Don’t you have any respect at all, Rubi?”
“Am I supposed to answer that?”
“I’d love you to answer that.”
“You don’t know what respect is.”
“Well, maybe you’re right. Tell me. Educate me.”
“Why should I? You don’t want to know.”
“Sure I do. Tell me. Don’t make me do all the talking.”
“I respect the man I work for.”
“Loyalty.”
“Yeah. Loyalty. You understand that?”
“Perfectly. Man says, ‘Blow up that bus,’ you blow it up.”
“That’s not loyalty.”
“I agree. You like judges, Rubi?”
“Judges are scum.”
“That’s why you kill them.”
“We kill the ones who’re scum.”
“The ones who won’t do what you want them to do. That’s why they’re scum. You like justice, Rubi?”
“Judges don’t know anything about justice.”
“That’s not what I asked. You like justice?”
“Yeah, of course, everyone likes justice.”
“No, they don’t. I don’t like justice.”
Aguilera turned his head to look at Carl.
Carl said, “Yeah, that’s right. I get justice, I’m dead. If I was perfect, I’d want justice.”
Aguilera laughed. It was a quiet laugh, just the voice, the face stayed the way it was, melting wax.
Carl said, “Funny, right? You like justice, Rubi?”
“It makes no difference. I’m not gonna get it anyway.”
“Oh yeah you are. For sure you are. Probably you’re gonna get it right here, cuffed to that tree.”
“And who’s gonna give me justice? You?”
“Blown up, or shot by your friends in the windows over there, you’ll get justice.”
“That’s what you think. You’re not gonna give me justice, no matter what you think.”
“That’s for sure. God’s gonna give it to you. You are so dumb, you know that? You’re gonna get stubborn and you’re gonna show off how brave you are and how stupid I am and you’re gonna just sit there and let yourself get blown up and then you’re going to hell and stay there for the rest of forever. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that, tell you about hell?”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
“You don’t like to hear what she said? You don’t respect her? You think she was stupid? You think that, don’t you, Rubi? Your mother was just some stupid old bag, right
?”
“I don’t think that.”
“She was smarter than those guys in the window. They’re over there arguing should they shoot you or not, and you’ve got more respect for them than for your mother. You’re really stupid, Rubi.”
“You’re an idiot. You listened to that preacher too much. You’re brainwashed.”
“My brain’s washed in better stuff than the filth you washed yours in.”
“Get me outta these cuffs.”
“You telling me it’s time to go?”
“I’m not telling you anything. You want to die, sit there and die.”
“We’re going together, Rubi. Thing is, I know where I’m going and you don’t.”
“You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”
“I don’t, but I know someone who does.”
“Jesus.”
“You swearing? Or you telling me you know what I’m talking about?”
“You sound like my mother.”
“If I’d been your mother I’d’ve drowned you.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Tell me what time the bomb’s going, I’ll leave you alone. You think I like not leaving you alone? Rubi, as someone to leave alone, you’re number one on my list. People who blow up judges—for you that’s just a job, right? Same’s putting bombs in school buses.”
Aguilera sighed again and twisted his body to put his back to Carl.
Carl said, “That judge in there has spent his whole life protecting scumbags like you, make sure nobody hands you a wrong one. Heaven forbid you should do time for the wrong killing. That right, Rubi?”
Aguilera, his back to Carl, was silent.
Carl, sitting on the grass two feet behind Aguilera, shot out a foot, sudden as a snake’s tongue, and kicked Aguilera in the back of the neck.
Aguilera winced and let out a cry.
“Answer me when I talk to you, asshole.”
“Don’t kick me.”
“I’ll kick you to death is what I’ll do.”
“Why are you asking all this?”
“I’m interested in you. I never met someone before likes to blow people up. After tonight I might never have another chance to talk to someone like you.”
“After the Mercedes blows up you won’t have a chance to talk to anyone.”
