“I seen enough,” said Colarusso.
Sarah kept her eyes on the screen. “I met him once. Did I tell you that?”
“Eagleton?” Colarusso looked shocked. “No…”
“I was seventeen or eighteen. The Zone was exciting and nasty, and I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near it.” She watched as Eagleton wiggled his scrawny hips, tiny black hairs covering his thighs. “I went to his storefront to buy a satellite descrambler. He had the best, that’s what my girlfriends said. I was the only customer that day. He didn’t know who I was, of course. I remember…I remember him showing me how to install the descrambler, standing right behind me, and I suddenly realized he had his penis out and was rubbing his erection against me. I slapped him so hard my whole arm went numb, ran out the door. I remember looking back at him, and he was watching me like nothing had happened, just stroking himself and smiling.”
“You never told anybody?”
Sarah shook her head. Switched off the full-motion mode.
“No offense, but you might have gotten off easy,” said Colarusso. “Cops working the Zone told me this perv was as sick as they come.”
“He needed to be one up on everyone.” Sarah swiveled back and forth in the chair. “That was his real perversion. Fooling me into thinking he was helping me…that’s what really got him off.”
“Didn’t stop the Black Robes from coming to him for help when they wanted something,” said Colarusso. “Guardians of public morality—”
“You take photos of everything on this wall?”
“They’re in the thumb drive.”
“I’m going to take this holo home with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I do.” Sarah touched the desk. “Where’s the computer console? Had to be one here.”
Colarusso grimaced. “Eagleton had it booby-trapped with magnesium switches. Soon as our techs attempted a download, the whole thing went up. Almost burned the police lab down.”
The Old One dismissed his acolyte with a wave of his hand, stared out through the observation deck of the Star of the Sea. Better to watch the approaching storm than another pink-cheeked novice back away, head bowed, eager to impress him with his piety and manners. The Old One distrusted piety in the young and was bored to his very bones with proper manners. Times like this he missed Darwin. The assassin reeked of death, reveled in his bloody impulses, but he was a man. No excuses. No regrets. No fear. Contemptuous of everyone, regardless of status or station, Darwin wore his insolence like a badge of honor, a mark of his rejection of good and evil. No God, no devil…just death and Darwin as far as the eye could see.
Now Darwin was gone and the Old One felt the loss as a dull ache. Phantom-limb pain. The world was different without the assassin. Without spice or savor. Darwin was the only man who dared to laugh at the Old One. And the only one who had made the Old One smile. No…there was another. Rakkim. The Old One had offered Rakkim the world and Rakkim had turned it aside with a laugh, said what value was there in the world if it cost him his soul? Give him time, the Old One had thought, and let Rakkim live. All these long, long years and just those two had deeply touched him—and Darwin was dead and Rakkim was missing. But perhaps not for long.
The Old One’s increased surveillance in Seattle had paid off. Five days ago, Sarah had been spotted at a Saint Sebastian Day fair dressed as a modern. Consorting with Catholics, doubtlessly planning more trouble. She wore a gauzy veil at the fair, but there had been an altercation with a Black Robe in his employ, and her features were momentarily exposed. A blessing, to be sure. The whore, a child, and another, older woman had managed to elude his men, disappearing into a nest of abandoned buildings in an industrialized part of the city. His men continued the hunt.
Dark clouds rolled toward the Star of the Sea, black thunderheads across the Pacific, pushing him closer to the coast of North America. The promised land. To have been so close to success. The bitch would have undoubtedly led his men to Rakkim, or failing that, her capture would have drawn Rakkim from hiding. Instead, she had somehow disappeared into the crowd, clutching a small boy. A child. That was good news. She would stick close to home now, wherever that was. Good luck and bad, as though Allah himself could not decide whether he favored the Old One at this most crucial hour.
The Old One braced himself, knees slightly bent. The massive luxury liner could weather any storm, but old habits died hard. He had been caught once in a sudden squall off Djibouti, caught in a leaky boat, the small sail of the dhow ripped to shreds as he rode the waves…
Still no sign of Rakkim. Whether he was in hiding or on a mission, the Old One didn’t know. Even his most trusted spies, men planted twenty years earlier and privy to the most intimate secrets, remained in the dark about Rakkim. And so did the Old One. It rankled. No, worse than that, it made his joints ache, as though he had slept badly, restless as a woman. Once before Rakkim and Sarah had upended his plans. Ruined decades of work. The Old One had been cautious in those days, slowly moving men into position, believing in the inevitability of his ascension. A one-world caliphate under the green banner of Islam, the Old One’s destiny at last complete. Yet those two had ruined his plans, and these last two years, the Old One had found himself hurrying, taking chances. He knew now that even he could run out of time.
The Old One felt light-headed for an instant at such a thought—it felt like champagne bubbles rising, toasting a New Year’s Eve a hundred years ago. He might as well have been a mayfly, doomed to die with the dawn, a small, buzzing creature unaware of tomorrow. He and the rest of his companions had counted down the seconds until the New Year, mindless pleasure seekers, fallen from grace. All of them gone now. Long gone. Returned to the dust, no wiser than when they became flesh.
He put such thoughts away, tucked them into a quiet corner of his mind with the rest of his ancient memories. Wives and children gone, fortunes won and lost, friends abandoned. Nothing remained now save his goal and his purpose, the path lit by glory, his footsteps guided by God. A solitary path to be sure, but the Old One had long since gotten used to that.
The Old One felt the Star of the Sea shift slightly as the edge of the storm reached it, and wondered yet again if he should have had Rakkim killed when he had the chance.
“How are you doing?” asked Colarusso. “Everything going on, I forgot to ask.”
Sarah ignored him. She had a line of welts across her back where the Black Robe had flailed her last week, and even worse, a nagging suspicion that she had been seen, her presence noted. She had used every precaution getting back home from the Saint Sebastian Day fair, even had her mother take Michael a separate way so that she could observe them approach the house and see if they were followed. They weren’t, but the welts on her back still burned so badly she could hardly stand to take a shower. She would have liked to have stayed and given the Black Robe a few jolts from the stunner. Set it to max and made him sizzle. She shook her head, amused. Such language, Sarah. The price one pays for keeping company with infidels.
“Sarah?”
“I’m good,” said Sarah, finishing her walkabout of the shop. She had taken plenty of her own photos. “Keeping busy.”
Colarusso peered at her, probably noting the bags under her eyes. He took her hand, ran a thumb over her chewed-short fingernails. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’m a gentleman and all, housebroken after twenty-eight years of marriage, but, Sarah…you don’t look good.”
She swatted him. He laughed but it didn’t help. It didn’t help either of them. “I miss him, Anthony.” Her voice shook slightly. “I hate going to bed alone. I hate waking up alone. I miss him. And I’m scared for him.”
“He’s good. He’s the best.”
“Those other shadow warriors who disappeared…they probably thought they were the best too.”
Colarusso held her, the two of them standing there, just breathing.
“You’re his friend, his best friend,” said Sarah, hanging
on, her voice muffled against his beefy chest. “He asked me…before he left, he asked me if I thought he was different lately.” She pressed her cheek against him, hiding. “I lied to him, Anthony. I love him, but he’s not the same now and I don’t know why. I couldn’t tell him. Not when he was leaving for the Belt. He’s got…he’s got so much to worry about.”
“Marriage changes a man,” soothed Colarusso. “Most ways for the better, but there were times after Mary Elizabeth was born, I’d get off work and couldn’t decide whether to drive to Canada and not look back, or just drive off the nearest dock.”
“It gets better, though, doesn’t it?”
“Sure.”
“He’s not going to be like this forever, is he? I’m sorry, Anthony…I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“He loves you, girl, that’s all I know. You just hang on a little longer. You’ll see. He’ll be his old self again. Then, being a good wife and all, you can complain about that.”
They finally broke the clinch. Sarah wiped tears from her cheeks, still feeling Colarusso’s comforting, bearlike heat.
“No sign…” Colarusso cleared his throat, embarrassed. “No trace of explosives in the shop, but plenty of exotic materials and metals, titanium, Carborundum, lithium, palladium…man could have been building anything.”
“Did you run a radiation scan?”
“Jesus, lady, you got a dirty mind.” He grimaced. “State Security must have checked, but I’ll get right on it and make sure.”
“We should go. I’ll let you know if I have any ideas.”
“How about coming for dinner tonight?” Colarusso rubbed the back of her arm. “Bring your mom and the boy and we’ll have a barbecue. Marie’s a lousy cook, but even she has a hard time screwing up a steak.”
Sarah smiled. “Thank you, Anthony, but I’m working late again.”
“The president?”
She sighed, half closed her eyes. Wished for a moment she was back home…not her home now, but her home when she was a girl. Home with Redbeard, her uncle…her protector after her father was murdered. The head of State Security, Redbeard was harsh but loving. Always demanding, turning every incident from spilled milk to a misplaced book into a damned learning opportunity. The training never ended in that house. People like us can’t afford to be surprised, Sarah. We don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or being caught unaware. We have to sense who’s on the other side of the door before they knock, and we have to know if they’re a friend or enemy. Then Redbeard would kiss her hair…or get down on the floor and play dolls with her, until he was called away on business.
“Sarah?”
Sarah put her hood up. “The official state visit to Mexico City is a nightmare. Amistad por Siempre! Friendship forever, my ass. Every senator up for reelection is begging for a spot on Air Force One and the president wants to minimize the political footprint. He’d leave the vice president here if he could, but it’s best to have a Mexican-American beside you when you’re groveling before the Aztlán Empire.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It’s worse. The president’s using the visit to try to negotiate a compromise—giving Aztlán all gas and mineral rights from Southern California, Arizona, and New Mexico, in return for them renouncing all claims to the territory itself.”
Colarusso stared at her. “That’s the best we can do?”
“That’s the best we can hope for. It’s going to take all of Kingsley’s skills and Mendoza’s folksy barrio stories to convince the Mexicans to accept the deal. They don’t need to compromise. They could take the territory if they really wanted to.”
“What about General Kidd? His forces—”
“The Fedayeen are already stretched thin. We have to choose our battles.”
Colarusso gnawed at his lower lip. “Plane full of politicians…president and vice president…seems to me that’s just asking for trouble.”
“Air Force One is safer than the Presidential Palace. Redbeard used to pack Rakkim and me along when he rode with the president,” said Sarah. “Amazing technology. The freeways may be crumbling, but Air Force One gets every security upgrade. Microwave chaff generators, triple redundancies, complete system assessment prior to takeoff…”
“I had no idea.”
“You’re not supposed to.” Sarah opened the door. “Raincheck on the dinner invitation? Rakkim and I will come by as soon as he gets back.”
“Just bring your antacids.”
Chapter 37
Rakkim was peeling potatoes when Moseby walked into the mess tent, looking exhausted, and started moving through the chow line. He didn’t notice Rakkim stuck in the back, working through a pile of spuds.
Rakkim tossed his apron aside. “Taking a break.”
The cook grunted, stirred the pot of chili he was working on.
Rakkim had been working in the miner’s mess since he slipped out of the Colonel’s house early yesterday morning. Just wandered in and told the morning cook that he had been assigned as his line monkey until the rest of his unit came up from Murfreesboro. The cook didn’t question the orders, grateful to have the help. Rakkim got a cot next to the cooler, a hideout where no one would think to look for him, and sooner or later, Moseby had to show up. Midafternoon on the second day, there he was.
The miners, covered in dust, tended to congregate together even when there was room, sitting so close they were constantly banging elbows. Moseby was off in a corner by himself, digging into his chicken steak and greens like he hadn’t eaten in a month, when Rakkim tapped him on the shoulder.
“Get you some gravy, suh?” said Rakkim, standing behind him.
Moseby recognized his voice immediately, fingers tightening on his knife.
“What is it with you people?” said Rakkim, sitting beside him with a cup of coffee. “You think I’ve got nothing better than to go around all day killing folks?”
Moseby kept his grip on the knife. Not that it would do him any good. “How’d you find me?”
“Please.” Rakkim put two heaping spoons of sugar into his coffee. Stirred. “You think you’re the only finder in the world?” He sipped his coffee. Added another spoon of sugar. “Annabelle sends her best. Leanne too. Smart girl. Must have got that from her mama.”
Moseby didn’t move. Barely breathed. “Are they all right?”
“They are now.” Rakkim sipped his coffee. “I moved them out of New Orleans. They’re staying at her cousin’s place in Arkansas.”
Moseby relaxed slightly, lowered his shoulders. “Good. Her kin may not like me but they’ll do what’s right.”
Rakkim rested his head on his elbow, looking past Moseby, checking out the rest of the room. “Annabelle’s worried about you. I promised her I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but I’m not sure she trusts me.”
“Thanks.” Moseby set the knife down. “I owe you.”
“I know.”
“It’s never free, is it?” said Moseby. “You always keep a running tally.”
“A man can never have too many friends.” Rakkim finished the coffee. “How’s the treasure hunt going? Must have been four or five crews through here in the last day, and that’s all they talk about. Some say it’s at the bottom of an underground lake, others say it’s buried under a filled-in mine-shaft. They’re not even sure what they’re looking for—gold, silver, Billy Clinton’s crocheted jockstrap—but they’re all convinced they’re the lucky ones. Me, I’d put my money on you anytime.” He reached over, took a roasted potato off Moseby’s plate, popped it in his mouth. “So…did you find anything?”
Moseby watched him chew.
“Interesting indentations around your eyes—looks like a face mask,” said Rakkim, going back to Moseby’s plate. “You been scuba diving, John? Probably no crawfish around here, but I bet there’s some mighty tasty freshwater crabs in that river I saw on the way up here. That it? You find yourself a good spot for a little R and R?”
Moseby stood. “There’s a rus
ted-out logging truck broken down near the trailhead to town. Meet me there in fifteen minutes.”
Rakkim slid Moseby’s plate in front of him as the man walked off. Picked up the fork and started in on the rest of the chicken.
Rakkim was sitting in the driver’s seat of the logging truck when Moseby showed up ten minutes later. He brought company, of course. Rakkim couldn’t blame him.
“Nice sawed-off you got there,” said Rakkim as Moseby slid into the passenger side. “Nothing like a wide field of fire. Say what you want about full-auto, a scattergun—”
“Stop talking.” Moseby centered the shotgun on Rakkim’s midsection. No matter how fast a man was, there was no avoiding a load of double-aught at that range.
“Sure.” Rakkim kept both hands on the wheel. “Why destroy the peace and quiet of a summer day? I bet if we sit here for a few minutes we’ll hear all kinds of birds.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me too. Honest.” Rakkim peered through the cracked windshield, cranking the steering wheel back and forth, making vroom-vroom sounds.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Rakkim went silent. Sat back in his seat. Looked at Moseby. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I don’t…I don’t seem to be myself lately.” He started laughing, couldn’t stop.
“Are Annabelle and Leanne really okay?”
Rakkim shook with laughter.
Moseby nudged him with the sawed-off. “Did you hurt my family, Rikki?”
“No.” Rakkim wiped his eyes, serious now. “You know me better than that.”
“I thought I did. Now…I’m not so sure.”
Rakkim took his hands off the wheel, stared at his fingers like they didn’t belong to him. He wiped his palms on his pants. “I’m sorry, John. Didn’t mean to worry you. Annabelle and Leanne, they’re fine. Both of them.”
Moseby stared at him. Nodded. “I believe you.”
Sins of the Assassin Page 31
