by Steven Gould
We could go out that way, but it would be conspicuous. I could leave my way, but I didn’t want to leave Grant in the lurch. I considered jumping Grant away but that was right out. Dad would move us out of town in a “New York minute.”
“Did they see you?”
He nodded. “They pointed at us.”
“Shit!” I was angry at Grant suddenly. “There were other reasons you shouldn’t have bragged about our date all over school!”
I saw them now. I pulled Grant further around toward the door, in the shadow of the railing around the dining area, but they saw the movement.
“Grant, I need you to trust me, okay?”
He looked at me, his eyes wide, lots of white showing. “What?”
“When they get close, I’m going to shove you from behind. When I do it, I want your protect your head with your arms and curl up into a ball.”
“We’re fucked. What are you talking about?”
“Let’s just say that Caffeine’s little accident in the showers was no accident.”
Hector and Calvin were clear of the dancers now, glancing around to assess the witnesses. Then they grinned at us.
“Go ahead,” Hector shouted over the band. “Caffeine and Marius are on the other side of that door!”
Delightful.
I stepped behind Grant, like I was hiding behind him, and put my hands on his shoulders my forearms down both sides of his spine, my hips right up against his.
“Protect your head, all right?” I said in his ear.
He nodded and I felt him raise his hands in front, in preparation.
Calvin and Hector grinned at each other and stepped closer, Hector first, Calvin right behind.
I jumped in place, adding twenty-five feet per second toward Hector, about the speed you’d get after dropping ten feet. Grant flew forward, his forearms jerking up and together in front of his face, his knees pulling up.
Hector tried to punch him, but his strike went past Grant’s head as Grant’s elbows slammed into Hector’s solar plexus and Grant’s knees slammed into Hector’s thighs. Hector flew back into Calvin, the back of Hector’s head striking Calvin’s nose, and all three of them spilled down the passageway, Hector and Calvin on their backs, Grant falling forward onto his hands and knees.
Grant was up at once, cradling one of his elbows. Hector and Calvin were not unconscious, but they were having trouble breathing, much less standing up.
The nearest dancers had seen the boys fall back, but hardly anyone heard it over the band. The majority of people were still dancing. I took Grant’s good arm and led him along the edge of the dining area at the back of the dance floor.
“You okay?”
His eyes were wide and he was staring at me.
I raised my voice “Are. You. Okay?”
“Yeah. Banged my funny bone.” He looked over his shoulder. Both Calvin and Hector were still down, but some of the dancers were leaning over them and a club employee with “Security” on his T-shirt was walking back that way.
“Stop holding your elbow and let’s go.”
I texted Naomi while Grant found the coat-check tab and recovered my coat. I walked out the door still shrugging it on while Grant scrambled to keep up.
“Naomi’s not here yet!”
“Neither is Caffeine. I told Naomi to pick us up at Krakatoa.” In a minute Hector or Calvin might recover enough to call Caffeine’s cell and I’d just as soon not have another incident. “Come on. My treat.”
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You pushed me so hard I flew into Hector.”
I shrugged. “I shoved and you leaped. It was both of us.” I curled my right arm up in a body builder’s pose and tapped my biceps with my left hand. “Though I’m stronger that I look.”
He blinked and looked uncertain, but by the time we reached Krakatoa I could tell the memory of what had happened was shifting around to something more acceptable.
While we waited, I bought three hot chocolates with whipped cream. When Grant walked me from Naomi’s car to my front door we were scraping out the last of it with our straws.
“You have some whipped cream on your face,” I said.
“Where?”
“There.” I kissed him on the whipped cream and licked it away.
Yes, it was on his mouth. So what.
Practice.
TWENTY-FIVE
Davy: “Looking for Rama”
“No, you may not go follow Cent on her date!”
“But—”
“No ‘buts,’” Millie said. “Leave her alone! You want to go ‘protect’ someone, see if you can get a lead on Ramachandra!”
Davy still stuck his head into The Brass before going on to Bangladesh. He walked in behind a group of six teens wreathed in a cloud of hormones and laughter, and as they dealt with the woman collecting the band cover charge, he jumped past them all into the shadows near the cloakroom.
He spotted Cent immediately, the only bare shoulders in the restaurant section. He hadn’t realized that Millie had loaned her that dress.
Christ, she looks so grown up!
Grant was dressed nicely, too, but his posture, the way he held his head, showed how ill at ease he was. Cent, poised, looked years older.
It took him back. She looked so much like her mother, and Davy winced at Grant’s awkwardness. Too much like me at that age.
Davy found the tension dropping out of his shoulders. He’d told himself he was here to look for the enemy, for those who hunted them, but his reaction told him differently—he’d wanted to check on Cent.
She’s not really involved.
He realized it almost immediately. Her first date ever and she was relaxed—at ease. He felt the tension going out of his neck. This wasn’t the real thing.
He checked the environment, looking for any of them, but all he saw were teens. Sure, they were looking around and quite a few kept looking over at Cent and Grant’s table, but obviously, nothing covert about it.
He realized that if he jumped over near the restrooms, he could get close enough to hear what they were talking about. He remembered Millie’s injunction.
You’re one of those fathers, aren’t you?
He walked back out the front door and jumped away.
* * *
Fortunately, Davy had been to Pabna several times before, so he didn’t have to duplicate the seven-hour bus trip from the nearest airport that had marked his first visit. He took one of the three-wheeled taxis from his riverfront jump site.
Akash didn’t recognize him out of context. The skies were clear, neither of them was wearing rain gear, and the setting was a small cubicle in a rundown administrative complex in the district capital.
“We worked together on the hilltop south of Bhangura.”
Akash blinked rapidly. “Ah, yes. How is your oh-so-charming wife?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“And your daughter? I presume it was your daughter. She was the spitting image of your wife.”
Davy lied. “A cousin. But the resemblance is remarkable.”
“Indeed. What may I do for you today? Your tent and supplies ended up in our compound in Bhangura. Is that what you’re inquiring about?”
Davy shook his head. “No. I was checking on Ramachandra. Is there any word?”
“Oh. No word. You just missed his supervisor from World Without Hunger, Ostad Aniketa. He, too, was checking, but he is driving back that way this afternoon.”
“Back to the hilltop?”
“Mr. Aniketa is going to Bhangura. To talk with the police.”
Davy’s eyebrows went up.
Akash shrugged. “I know, but the police really seem to be stirring themselves.”
“Well, I’m glad someone is looking.”
“What should we do with the tent, and the leftover rations and water filters?”
Davy smiled. “For the next flood.”
* * *
He�
�d never been to Bhangura township itself, so he had to go back to Millie.
“Can you hop me to Bhangura? I want to check in with Ramachandra’s supervisor. He’ll be talking to the police there.”
“Isn’t that a bit dangerous? We know they’re working the area. What if they brought in one of those gravity thingies?”
Davy shrugged. “I doubt that they haul those around the globe. Wouldn’t think they’d do any good, unless maybe there was a facility they needed to protect. Besides, it’s not magic. They’d still have to locate and catch me. And once bitten, twice shy. You know how careful I am.”
“Paranoid,” she corrected.
He tilted his head forward and glared at her from beneath his brows.
She amended her statement. “Not that that’s a bad thing in this case.” She gave up. “All right. I can jump you to the old jute mill by the bridge and you can get a water taxi down on the river. Or you can catch a bicycle rickshaw van or one of those noshimon bus-thingies up on the road.”
“Noshimon? Are those the ones powered by converted irrigation pumps? Double row of bench seats in the back, facing each other?”
Millie nodded. “And painted like a carnival, yeah.”
“Let’s go.”
It felt odd when Millie jumped him someplace. It was rare that she had the jump site and he didn’t, but it was happening more and more with her relief work.
Odd or not, he liked her arms around him.
She let go and started to step back when they appeared in Bhangura, but he didn’t, pulling her back and kissing her. She smiled midkiss, he could feel it.
“You want me to stay?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not if they’re around. But it would be nice to just wander someplace, to be a tourist again.”
She nodded. “Maybe tomorrow. It’s the dry season in Goa.”
He smiled. “It’s a date.”
She vanished.
* * *
There was a market near the police station and he shopped, buying a silver baju bandh (armlet), a sari, and a bag woven of dyed and undyed jute. He saw Ostad Aniketa arrive, only recognizing him because his Toyota Land Cruiser had the name of the NGO on the sides in both English alphabet and Bangla lipi. When Ostad left the station and neared his vehicle, Davy walked up to him.
“Mr. Aniketa?”
The man raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“My name is David. I worked with Ramachandra during the recent flood south of here.”
“Yes? Have you seen him?”
Davy shook his head. “Ah, no. I was wondering if you had any word. Akash told me you were making inquiries so I thought I’d check in with you. Were the police helpful?”
The man deflated. “No. The officer working for the shordani has actually been discharged, but I really couldn’t tell you if it was because they’re cracking down on corruption, or because he lost the boat, or because he couldn’t make his payments up the chain since that brothel was flooded. Even if they arrest Ramachandra for ‘stealing’ their boat, we’ll at least know where he is. They were able to tell me where they found the boat, but the man who left it there was not Ramachandra.”
“How far downstream did they find the boat?” Davy asked.
“Oh, only a mile.”
“A mile south of the hilltop? The camp?”
“Oh, no. A mile south of here. It was tied up at the sugar mill dock. The man who left it told the guard that he would return shortly. The guard thought he must be a plain clothes policeman since he was driving the boat. When the boat was still there the next morning, they talked to their constable and he made inquiries. Alas, the person who left the boat was much older than Rama and balding.”
“Did anyone see the boat anywhere else?”
“No one has reported seeing it, but the flood was still at its height. Many boats were out in it. The last time anyone saw Ramachandra was when he pulled away from the camp with some, ah, passengers.”
“Yes. The chukri girls.”
“I can’t imagine what he was thinking!” said Mr. Aniketa, suddenly angry. “Leaving with those, those—”
Mr. Aniketa, Davy decided, was a prude with a dirty mind.
“I have been informed of the circumstances. Surely you don’t think Ramachandra was doing anything but helping those girls escape from the mastaans and the shordani?”
“Then where did he take them?”
Davy knew the name of the village and the girls’ madrasa but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to tell Mr. Aniketa. The information was all too likely to go from his lips to the police to the brothel, and he didn’t want the mastaans showing up there.
“He took them to an Imam who belongs to COMPIAT—the antitrafficking network, you know? Then he headed back upstream. He said he was going to return the boat to Bhangura.”
“When was this?”
“That same afternoon.”
“Eesh! That’s hardly any more than we already knew.” Mr. Aniketa gave Davy his card. “This has my cell number. Please let me know if you hear anything.” He sighed. “I went to school with Ramachandra’s father. I’ve known him since he was a baby.”
Davy gave Mr. Aniketa a card with one of his many e-mail addresses. “And please let me know if you hear anything, too.”
TWENTY-SIX
“Escalation”
Hector was limping in the cafeteria the next day, a fact that cheered me immensely.
“So there’s Hector Guzman and Calvin. And then there’s someone named Marius. Is that it?”
Jade blinked and Tara said, “What do you mean?”
“The guys in Caffeine’s little gang.”
Jade said, “Caffeine’s gang? It isn’t Caffeine’s gang.”
I blinked. “Oh. Whose is it?”
Tara spoke, “I don’t know, but Caffeine and friends are just the high school minions. Like comparing the paper boy to the newspaper or the newspaper’s publisher.”
Jade said, “Yeah. I’ve seen that black Hummer cruise by and stop, and whatever she’s doing, whoever she’s talking to, she drops what she’s doing and runs across the street, fast, and gets in the back.”
Shit.
I sat back in my chair, suddenly overwhelmed. I thought I was just dealing with Caffeine, Hector, and a few sociopathic high school dropouts. Now it felt like I was facing a vast organized crime syndicate.
I wonder if she shared the video with the gang at large?
I hoped not.
* * *
After lunch, Grant asked me out again.
I guess I shouldn’t have kissed him.
“No. But I’ll pretend I like you when we’re here at school.”
He looked devastated. “Pretend? You’ll pretend?”
I took his arm and tucked it through mine. “It’s okay, Grant. I’m not pretending, but no more dates. We both need to branch out.” We were walking through the crowded hall. “I’ll even kiss you on the cheek when we’re done talking if you answer one question.”
He looked wary. “What question?”
“Where was the video made?”
He looked down at the floor. “It’s because of Caffeine, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t go out with me again.”
“Look on the bright side. If it weren’t for Caffeine, I wouldn’t have gone out with you at all.” I patted his arm. “We’re all entitled to mistakes. I had a good time last night and I’d certainly dance with you again, but we are not dating. Sorry, that’s just a fact. Answer my question.”
He looked like he was going to cry which made me sad and then angry. I jabbed him in the ribs. “Have you noticed how many girls are checking you out as you walk through the hall?”
His head swiveled back and forth and he looked slightly less upset.
“Come on,” I said. “I have PE—where was it?”
He told me and I kissed him on the cheek.
* * *
If there is a wrong side of the tracks in New Prospect, it is over by the oil
field service companies, a patchy mix of rundown houses interspersed with fenced lots stacked with drill casing, mud tanks, and disassembled drilling rigs.
I moved through the neighborhood wearing the anonymous gray hoodie with a balaclava pulled up over my lower face and the hood well forward. On the first pass, I walked down the sidewalk on the street-side of the lot. Their “clubhouse” was a detached two-door garage, once adjacent to a large house, but the house was now a wreck, the victim of a fire, roof gone, some walls half standing. The garage, by contrast, was in good repair, its stucco sides mottled where not-quite-matching shades of paint had covered up graffiti. The ruin was bordered by a warehouse, a fenced lot stacked with mud pumps, and a construction equipment dealership.
There was no movement and I couldn’t see any lights or activity, but access to the garage was from the rear of the lot, not the street. I went down to the next block and came back up the alley.
Judging by the weeds and litter accumulating across the garage doors, they weren’t used much. The side door, though, was clear, and it was apparent from the ruts in the crusted snow and mud that cars usually parked on this side of the garage.
There were no cars parked there now, though.
I circled the building. There were no windows for me to get a look through, so I couldn’t jump inside. I thought about breaking in, using a cinder block and accelerating it to 180 mph toward the door—jumping away before the impact, of course.
And that wouldn’t exactly keep your visit secret, would it?
I wanted one of those cameras with the flexible fiber optic pickup that I could shove under the door. Something that would let me see inside.
I walked back to the ruins of the old house and looked for a nice hidden corner to use as a jump site. While I scrambled over the remains of one of the walls I glanced back at the garage and saw the gray sky reflected in something on its roof.
Ah. I stood up on the wall. There was a skylight.
I picked a jump site where two of the ruined walls came together out of sight from the adjoining lots and the garage. Most of the debris from the fire had been cleared out, but enough dirt had blown into this corner that a tumbleweed was growing.
When I returned to the rear of the garage, I couldn’t see anybody. I experimented a bit, adding enough upward velocity to clear the parapet of the garage’s stucco wall but with a slight forward component, not just straight up. I landed lightly on the roof without having to jump a second time.
