Prayers for the assassin

CHAPTER 20

“You don’t call me,” said the Wise Old One, “I call you.”

“Shall I hang up?” Darwin said brightly. “Then you can call me back and I’ll pretend to be thrilled by the attention.” He listened. “Hello?”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re sure?” said Darwin. “I’d be happy to oblige.”

The Old One stayed silent, refusing to engage.

Darwin stood with his hands in his pockets, the privacy cell adhered to the inside of his ear canal, the receiver the size of a bloated tick. The mouthpiece was even smaller, a birthmark affixed just above his lip. You could stand beside him and not know he was in the middle of a conversation. The cell was the latest model from Japan, a real breakthrough. “I just wanted to update you. I’ve been playing cat and mousie with Rakkim, but along the way I paid a social call with Sarah’s girlfriend from the university. Rakkim had done the same thing the day before. Great minds and all that.”

Darwin had stood on Marian’s doorstep yesterday, pretending to be a religious census taker, papers spilling from his briefcase, a nervous pencil pusher with a scraggly goatee and a suit that was too big for him. Marian’s bodyguard had ordered him away, a swarthy, barrel-chested sluggo barring the door, but Marian had invited Darwin in. He had apologized for disturbing her, then shuffled into the living room and smelled Rakkim, caught the faint scent of the man and known he was at the right place.

“Give me your update,” said the Old One.

“The girlfriend’s name is Marian Warriq,” said Darwin, freshly shaven and wearing a $3,000 suit. “Midfifties. Sociology professor at the university. Devout but no fundamentalist. That ring a bell?”

“No.”

“Makes no never mind. Lady Marian is in the past tense now.”

“You killed her?”

Darwin watched the police tape fluttering around Marian Warriq’s house and the people standing around on the sidewalks, staring at the windows and the policemen. He felt like an impresario putting on a spectacular production for an audience who didn’t really appreciate what they were seeing.

“Why would you do that? It’s only going to alert Rakkim that he’s being followed.”

“How about you don’t tell me how to do my business, and I won’t tell you how to take over the world?” Darwin heard the Wise Old One’s fine dry laugh, like the rustle of old newspapers. He loved that laugh. “Alerting Rakkim isn’t going to make a difference. Rakkim’s got a hair trigger. I’m still learning his pattern, but so far I can’t quite keep up with him. I thought finding Marian all gift-wrapped might spark him a little, might force him to make a mistake.”

“How do you know he’s going to find her?”

“I can see him,” said Darwin as Rakkim stepped out onto the porch with some fat cop. “From the expression on his face, I’d say he’s unwrapped the meat.”

“He’s there now?”

“Roger-dodger.” Darwin beamed in the chilly air; he had sparked Rakkim all right, sparked him good. He’d be off stride now.

“Does he see you?”

“Wouldn’t matter if he did. I’m nobody.” An elderly couple walked past Darwin, the two of them arguing with each other. Darwin nodded at them, wished them a good afternoon, and the gentleman nodded back. Darwin had gotten word of the bodies being found by monitoring the police laser-com-he hadn’t anticipated Rakkim already being here. The possibility that Rakkim had been the one who’d discovered the bodies was almost too much to hope for, but there he was, live and in person, looking as if his lunch hadn’t agreed with him. It made Darwin all tingly.

Darwin watched Rakkim talk to the fat cop, the fat cop’s face getting redder and redder. Any man who could piss off a cop that badly had Darwin’s respect. He could hardly wait to find Sarah and get all this business settled. Then he could kill Rakkim in peace. At his own pace too.

“Did this Marian Warriq tell you anything about Sarah before you…gift-wrapped her?”

“Not much.”

“All the more reason for you to keep her alive until she talked.”

“It wouldn’t matter-she had a strong faith, and you know what that’s like,” Darwin said, remembering the woman’s initial quiet protestations, her increasingly frantic quoting from the Qur’an. The things people came up with when they knew they were going to die…it never ceased to amaze him.

“Faith can be broken. That’s what I know.”

“She wasn’t going to talk, she was just going to waste my time.” Darwin waved cheerfully at a young mother pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk. Cootchie-cootchie coo. The mother ignored him but the kid in the stroller waved back. Ugly brat, a smear of dried milk crusted on one cheek.

“You acted in haste,” insisted the Old One. “You got the killing urge and you lost all perspective.”

“My perspective?” Darwin chuckled. “You have no idea of my perspective.”

“I’ll make some inquiries about this sociology professor. Perhaps something will emerge. Just restrain your impulses. I need Rakkim alive.”

Darwin stared at the taxi parked far down the block. A checkered Saladin cab, smoke bubbling from the exhaust pipe. Condensation dappled the windshield.

“Darwin?”

“I’m here.” The taxi had been sitting there for five minutes, at least. Plenty of time for the fare to get out. “Talk to you later.” Darwin broke the connection, started toward the taxi, eager now, but not hurrying.

“Sir?” The handsome young policeman held up his hand as though directing traffic. The other hand stayed on the butt of his pistol.

Darwin smiled, kept his eyes on the taxi. “I’m late for a business call, Officer.”

“May I see some identification, sir?”

Darwin pulled his wallet out of his suit jacket, flipped it open. “Darwin Conklin, at your service.” He showed his license, then handed the policeman a white business card. “I’m a real estate broker. Just got a call from the office. I really have to go.”

The policeman stared at the business card as though it were written in Mayan hieroglyphs. The nametag on his chest said Hanson. “This is you?”

“That’s right. Officer…please?”

The policeman flicked the card, handed it back. “We’re supposed to check all the bystanders, Mr. Conklin. Standard procedure. My sergeant’s a stickler, but it seems like a waste of time to me too.” He was tall and pink and dim, his long, bony face covered with a sparse blond beard. His hand still rested on his pistol. Typical rookie. Handguns had strictly been prohibited under the new Bill of Rights, having one a capital offense for anyone other than police. Baby cops always took delight and comfort in their firepower, like religious pilgrims clutching chips from the thighbone of a saint, assuming they were protected from evil.

Darwin smiled.

“So you’re in the neighborhood because you have a house to sell?”

“I make regular sweeps of these upscale neighborhoods for my clients.”

“Terrible business in that two-story over there. The Warriq place. I bet you’d have a hard time selling that one. Not if what my sergeant told me is true.”

“Yes…well, real estate can be a challenge.”

“My sergeant was puking all over his shoes. I’d call that more than a challenge.”

Darwin watched the cab pull away from the curb, then back into a driveway. “Are we done, Officer? I really am in a hurry.”

“Do you handle condos?” asked the policeman. “I’m living with my folks and it’s driving me crazy. My mom’s a great cook and everything, but still…”

Darwin offered the card again. “Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

The policeman ignored the card. “I’m just looking for a one-bedroom. Catholic area is fine. I got no problem with fish-eaters.” He grinned his big white teeth. “Their women can be a lot of fun too, if you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Darwin, watching the cab disappear down the street. He compacted his frustration into a tiny ball of ice and tucked it into his heart. It would be safe there. Home at absolute zero. He patted the policeman on the shoulder. A muscular boy. Probably took all kinds of extra self-defense courses and hit the gym like a metronome, sweating out the tension. “Officer Hanson, is it? We really should get together and go over my listings. Give me your address. I’m sure I’ve got something in your price range.”

“Hey, I’d really like that.” The policeman grinned again. “A healthy growing cop has no business living at home. How about tonight? My shift is over at four.”

Darwin watched Rakkim and the fat cop walking around toward the back of the house, Rakkim striding along, leading the way. Mr. Take Charge. “Tomorrow would be better. I’ve got plans for this evening.”