Djibouti

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

XAVIER CHECKED WITH DJIBOUTI Marine wanting to know who it was took out the Buster, while Dara met with the chief of police himself to hear what happened to the boat. Now they were in Dara's suite at the Kempinski exchanging what they'd learned.

"One of the young guys workin there, Ubu Kalid," Xavier said, "took this African out for a test run, see if he liked the boat."

Dara said, "Jama?"

"Sounds like Jama, but neither one of 'em came back."

"Buster caught fire," Dara said. "The chief thought at first she got too close to the gas tanker. But he said the feds told him no. Whoever stole the boat set it on fire."

"They could tell, huh?"

"They knew it wasn't the dead guy aboard."

"Wasn't Jama?"

"A white guy. The chief likes to make investigations social occasions when he can. We met at Las Vegas for lunch."

"Lunch meaning drinks."

"I had a gimlet, the chief three or four martinis," Dara said. "Would you like something?" He shook his head, Xavier on the settee in the suite's living room, Dara standing, moving around some, smoking a cigarette, looking cool in her white shirt and tan skirt for a change. Looking cool to Xavier anytime.

"The chief said he was white but looked like a colored man where the fire burned him. He smiled saying, 'I understand that's what you call Nigras in America.' No identification on him, but the FBI printed him. They'll find out who he is."

"You sound relieved," Xavier said, "it wasn't Jama? You need him for the movie?"

"He set fire to our boat," Dara said, exhaling a hard stream of smoke. "He shot the white guy twice and left nine-millimeter casings in the wheelhouse. Police Chief Ali Zahara-I finally learned his name-said it will turn out to be the same weapon that killed Qasim and the four Somalis the time Jama escaped."

"So he's still roamin the land," Xavier said. "Maybe tryin to use the dead guy's ID."

"How can he? The guy's white."

"In a few days he can be black in the passport. If that's what Jama has. Djibouti, man, you can become anybody you want, long as you able to pay for it."

Dara came over and Xavier made room for her next to him.

"If he's in the film I want to know what happens to him."

"Wouldn't mind runnin into him again, huh? If you both still around, I think you can bet on him runnin into you. Find out you're stayin here, if he don't already know it. You want to give him a chance to find you?"

"Why's he after me, 'cause I know his name?"

"Even if you didn't. I think Mr. James Russell Raisuli's got the hots for you, girl. Likes the way you step out on the edge talkin to him," Xavier said. "You ever see Hiroshima? You haven't, have you?"

"That TV movie?"

"How we got around to droppin the A-bomb on Japan. The real Harry Truman's in it and you see an actor playin Harry Truman. I mean in key scenes where they don't have the real Harry Truman on film they use the actor. Understand what I'm sayin? The real Harry Truman and the one playin him come in and out of the movie, cuttin from one to the other in different scenes, and it works."

"The actor looks just like Truman?"

"Enough. Plays the piano."

Dara seemed to think about it, frowning some.

She said, "Who do you see playing Jama?" LATER ON DARA WENT to Billy's suite to see how Helene was doing: Helene in bed, her upper right arm taped to her body, the hand sticking out of her camisole. Dara said it looked like it was growing out of her tummy.

"The room service guy," Helene said, "asks me how my hand's doing. I try to tell him it's not my hand, it's my fucking shoulder. I'm afraid the tape's gonna flatten my boobs. Billy says don't worry about it, we'll have them inflated. Billy doesn't have a doctor here so we're going home. Wait two days for Air France or hire a private jet to get us to Paris. He wants me to see a doctor in Houston he calls his bone guy. Billy separated his shoulder one time playing polo."

Dara said, "Fell off his horse?"

"This Mexican hit him from behind," Helene said, "because Billy was beating him."

"Too bad," Dara said, "you have to interrupt the cruise."

"Till I'm all better. I'll stretch it out as long as I can, see if I can develop complications. Billy said, 'When you fell off your bike, you got right back on, didn't you?' If he thinks I'm gonna fire that gun again, he's out of his fucking mind," Helene said. "He's down at the bar talking to the FBI again. They found out we were on the island, Billy told them yeah, having a picnic. We saw the ship explode and he got us out of there fast. This was the first time the FBI talked to him. They wanted to know why we had a Donzi for the trip instead of his yacht. He said they called Pegaso 'your pleasure boat.' Billy said he was thinking of getting a Donzi for fun and wanted to see what it was like. He can buy anything he wants, so they believe him."

"But they're talking to him again?"

"Billy said 'cause we're all they have, the only ones they know were at the scene. This time he's gonna tell them when they identify the guy who was shot, they'll find out he's Rolland Buck Bethards. Billy said they'll ask him how he knows and he'll tell them, because he hired Buck to find James Russell, aka Jama Raisuli. He'll tell them Jama, now, could be using Buck's name."

"Xavier thought the same thing," Dara said. "But how does Billy know the dead guy's Buck?"

"He hired him to find Jama, didn't he?" Helene said. "And I guess he did." JAMA DID THE SIDESTROKE no more than twenty yards, put his feet down, found the bottom and walked the rest of the way to the beach. He had his bag, had his gun, had money, some he hadn't counted yet, the passport. He believed he could throw it away without looking inside. They'd ID the white dude and put his name on their watch list. He had to get dried off before he joined the gang at the grass house. Wouldn't that be something it was a real grass house? Get high waiting for the taxi. Whisper in Jackie's ear…think of something cool this soldier-girl never heard before. Or keep it simple, ask her she wants to fuck. He believed girls having tattoos on their body liked you to be direct.

He imagined taking his clothes off in the grass house and sitting there nekked waiting for the gang to wake up. Shit, leave the clothes on, they be dry soon.

Get to Djibouti and become one more nigga till he became somebody else.