The Man in My Basement - читать бесплатно онлайн полную версию книги автора Walter Mosley (ч. 4)

longing eyes. Sometimes he’d hold out a feeble hand.

Before he was that far gone, Brent asked me to sit down 18

next to his bed one morning. I had just brought in his 19

breakfast and was getting ready to leave.

“Charles.”

His voice was weak. I pretended not to hear him.

“Charles, please sit down for a minute.”

I did as he asked. He took my hand.

“What?”

“I just wanted to say that I was sorry, boy. I just wanted 26

to say that I know I treated you bad all these years. Called S 27

you names. Told you you were no good. I can see now R 28

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that all that time what you needed was a father. That’s 2

why you were so bad. You were just mad and I never saw 3

why. Can you forgive me?”

Tears came into my eyes. Tears of rage. The idea that 5

Brent would mention my father, that he would dare to 6

even suggest that he could have taken my father’s place, 7

made me hate him more than I ever had. I let go of his 8

hand so as not to crack his fingers. He saw the tears and 9

smiled. I believe that he thought I was forgiving him, that 10

those tears were his absolution.

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to holler him into dust. I 12

was so angry that I didn’t trust my actions, so I left the 13

room. I never spoke to Brent again. I didn’t touch him 14

again. I couldn’t. The nurse was always telling me that a 15

kind word or a gentle touch would be the best medicine.

But I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t think of one kind 17

thing to say. His smell made my stomach turn. I would 18

have liked to jab knives into his eyes.

I didn’t touch or talk to him; I didn’t go into his room 20

at night. Every day he got weaker and I thought to myself, 21

Good, I hope he dies soon. I hope he dies tonight while I’m in 22

my bed thinking about the Playboy magazines that I stole 23

from under his bed.

One morning the nurse found him on the floor next to 25

the door. He must have been trying to get out. Maybe he 26

was trying to get to me. I heard something in the night, 27 S

but I really thought that it was squirrels in the gutters, not 28 R

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my uncle scrabbling on the oak floor trying to escape 1

from death.

The police asked me if I had heard anything. Everyone 3

knew how much I hated Brent. But nothing came of it.

He died of cancer. They couldn’t arrest me for not being 5

friendly, for rubbing my urgent erection on the mattress 6

while thinking about impossibly endowed Tammy Lee 7

Naidor, the Playmate of the month.

“No,” I said to Bennet. “No, I’ve never killed anyone.

And now I have to go. I’ll come down tomorrow and ask 10

you some more.”

“Whatever you say, Warden.” Bennet smiled.

“You want a book?”

“If I may,” he said.

I passed him a paperback that I brought in my pocket.

Hothouse by Brian Aldiss. It was a book set millions of 16

years in the future, where plants had ascended to be the 17

dominant species on Earth. Maybe I gave it to him be-18

cause it was one of my favorites. I don’t know.

I sat up at the head of my bed and communed with my 22

ancestors. I didn’t know a damn thing about them except 23

that my family had kept and then forgotten them in the 24

basement for hundreds of years. They were the only thing 25

in my life of value right then — a hope that I came from 26

somewhere important.

S 27

R 28

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I was looking at the ivory faces and thinking about my-2

self as an embezzler and a murderer. Brent had always 3

called me a malingerer. Maybe I was that too.

Early in the morning, about 3:00 or so, I pulled out an 5

old spring binder that I had used in college. I started writ-6

ing ideas for questions. By the time the sun came up, my 7

tin trash can was filled with the failures I had penned.

27 S

28 R

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Breakfast for the prisoner was shredded wheat and skim C 14

milk with no sugar and no fruit. I went in having resolved 15

to deliver the food and leave.

I put the tray down and he said, “So what are we going 17

to talk about today, Warden?”

“Is Anniston Bennet your real name?” I asked without 19

thinking. But as soon as I asked, I was happy. It was only 20

one question. I had to ask three before having to answer 21

one of his.

I was so intent on the silly rules of the game that I al-23

most missed Bennet’s reaction. His head twisted to the 24

right an inch or so and the skin around his eyes momen-25

tarily tightened into a network of fine wrinkles.

“Yes,” he said.

S 27

But I knew better. The problem was that I had to ask R 28

another question to dig the truth out.

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“Was it your birth name?”

“No.”

“What was that name?”

“Tamal Knosos.” He stared blue comets at me. No fur-5

ther information was forthcoming.

“It’s your turn,” I said.

“I’m thinking,” he responded lamely.

“If you don’t have anything to ask, then you forfeit and 9

it’s my turn again.”

“Are you a child?” He sneered and frowned. I might 11

have felt victorious at causing him to lash out like that, 12

but there was a force behind his condemnation that un-13

settled me.

“No,” I said. “And that was a question. So now you tell 15

me where that name came from, why it was changed, and 16

by whom.”

I counted the inquiries on the same three fingers he had 18

used the day before.

Tamal Knosos considered me for a long time. It took all 20

of my concentration not to break away from his gaze. I 21

knew somehow that if he stared me down, I would never 22

regain the advantage.

Looking back on that morning, I can see how it might 24

seem foolish, childish really, the game we played. Two 25

full-grown men in that ridiculous situation. But if you 26

were there, you’d have felt how deadly serious we were.

27 S

“I don’t know,” he said at last.

28 R

“You don’t know what?”

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“I don’t know the answers, not the real answers. My 1

mother’s name was Maria Knosos, and she was unmar-2

ried. My father’s name was Tamal. The birth certificate 3

only had his first name. His nationality was Turkish. My 4

name became Tamal Knosos because my mother died be-5

fore she could give me a name. She had come to New 6

York from Greece and met this man, Tamal, somewhere.

He was already gone by the time I was born. I was neither 8

Greek nor Turkish but an orphan in America. When I 9

grew up I named myself. I didn’t know a thing about ei-10

ther parent or their cultures. I was here and I meant to 11

thrive. I created a whole history based on the name Ben-12

net. The ancestors I chose came over on a boat before the 13

American Revolution. They had died out mostly, except 14

for Anniston, except for me.”

I was looking closely at my prisoner. At his bald head 16

and impossible eyes.

“Contact lenses,” he said and then leaned forward, put-18

ting his fingers against his left eye. When he leaned back 19

he had in his hand a big lens, whites and all, of a blue eye.

The black eye that looked back at me from the left socket 21

could well have been Greek or Turkish.

“I had my scalp done by an electrologist,” he said. “In 23

the kind of work I do, there’s no promise that you will 24

have a razor ready to shave the black locks.”

“You’re passing as a blue blood,” I said. “But you’re 26

really nothing. You don’t even know if your father was S 27

Turkish. He could have been Arab or even African.”

R 28

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“My name is Anniston Bennet,” my prisoner said with 2

conviction.

“It’s your turn,” I replied.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” he said.

“If you don’t play my game, I don’t play yours,” I said 6

simply. The power I felt was stronger than any alcohol.

Bennet replaced his blue eye and shook his head.

“You don’t want to fuck with me, Charlie.” He was an-9

other man again.

“Oh no?” I walked out of the basement and up to the 11

house. In the pantry I had two loaves of white bread and 12

three cans of Borden’s condensed milk waiting for just this 13

moment. These I carried back down into the hole. I shoved 14

the food under the gate, smashing the bread in the process, 15

and then threw a can opener through a cell diamond.

I went back to the hatch and snapped off the light. I 17

called down, “See you in four days, Tamal.”

He yelled something unintelligible as I slammed down 19

the door to the cellar. He was still shouting as I secured 20

the locks to the basement. But you could barely hear his 21

shouts just five feet away from the hatch. It was a well-22

built stone cellar and the door was insulated, almost 23

soundproof as it turned out.

I went up to the house listening for his shouts but heard 25

nothing. At about noon I figured that he stopped, so I 26

went back down to the cellar door. He was still shouting, 27 S

loud and deep for such a small man.

28 R

I almost broke then. I almost threw the door open and 196

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set him free. I could have saved face by saying that I just 1

wanted to throw a scare into him. I could have freed him 2

and sent him packing. I knew that that was the wisest 3

course to follow, but something else had taken me over.

Perverse pride left Tamal/Anniston in his hole.

Ever since the first day he stood at my front door, I felt 6

that Bennet held the upper hand. He was self-assured and 7

a man of the world and rich and white. I was permanently 8

unemployed and broke. Putting him in that cell and serv-9

ing him was like tying Joe Frazier’s right hand behind his 10

back and then picking a fight with him.

The only way I could beat Bennet was to break him, to 12

show him that I was boss of my house. To show him that 13

I meant what I said and that I would not break down. Af-14

ter all, he agreed to my rules. He had said okay. What did 15

he expect? He told me that he wanted to be punished, 16

that he wanted me as his warden. I had warned him.

I was late getting out of the house and late to Tiger 20

Tanaka’s, the Japanese restaurant. Narciss was waiting pa-21

tiently in the display window at a table for two.

“Hey,” I said as I walked up. “Sorry I’m late. I had some 23

business with Mr. Dent that I couldn’t break off.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled, looking down at first, and 25

then in an act of will, she looked up for me to see her 26

pleasure. “I was just thinking about the notes in your S 27

aunts’ diaries. You know, I don’t think that you should sell R 28

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them either. So much of them is about everyday life in the 2

black community out here, and there are names, names of 3

your relatives back more than two hundred years.”

“They got the guys that brought over those masks in 5

there?”

Narciss beamed. “Not their names but there is a refer-7

ence to three Africans that came over on a Spanish ship 8

before the Revolution. I don’t think these ladies knew 9

about the masks. Now, either they didn’t know of their re-10

lation to the three African sailors or somehow your fam-11

ily inherited the masks from another clan.”

She was wearing a dark-blue dress that came to 13

midthigh when she sat. It was a sharp number — new, I 14

believed. I sat down, put my hands across the table, and 15

touched her elbows with my fingers.

“I was thinking,” she continued. “I mean, I haven’t 17

really pushed ahead with the sales yet. I was thinking that 18

maybe you would like to start a museum.”

“Museum?”

“Yes. An African American museum of the life out here.

We could use my upstairs. I could charge admission. You 22

wouldn’t make as much as you would if you sold the 23

pieces, but you could keep them and share them too.”

“It’s nice to see you, Miss Gully.”

She struggled not to look away.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

27 S

Her skin enchanted me again. The subtle variations of 28 R

color gave depth to her.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Again words came out of my 198

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mouth as if they were uttered by some stranger. “I felt bad 1

about how we got off the phone the other night. I like 2

you and I was hoping that we didn’t have to stop talking 3

before we had a chance to be friends.”

Narciss smiled and sighed. She touched her long fingers 5

against my forearm, and the waitress, a blond teenager, 6

came up to take our order.

I ate raw fish for the first time in my life. Yellowtail and 8

tuna, and smoky and sweet-tasting sea urchin on a mint 9

leaf. I paid for the meal and then took Narciss on a long 10

drive out to Montauk. I kissed her the first time on the 11

beach. We had been walking for more than an hour. She 12

had done almost all the talking — mostly about the mu-13

seum she wanted me to contribute toward — but there 14

were details about her mother and father and her activist /

lawyer sister, Rochelle, who lived in D.C. and had three 16

children by as many men.

“She’d be a welfare mother if she wasn’t a lawyer,” she 18

said at one point.

I was thinking that Rochelle didn’t sound any different 20

from many men that I had known. Men who bounced 21

from woman to woman, creating babies as they went.

Clarance was like that. There were at least three women 23

who he admitted having children by. He was proud of his 24

virility.

I was thinking about Rochelle’s masculine approach, 26

but I didn’t care. Instead I stopped there on the sandy S 27

beach and kissed Rochelle’s girly sister.

R 28

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left arm snaked up around my neck while her right hand 2

gripped my biceps. Her tongue was quick to find mine.

We stood there in each other’s arms until my legs began 4

to ache. That was about 5:30. I broke away long enough 5

to suggest that we drive back to my house. We made it to 6

the car, but it was almost 7:00 before I turned the ignition 7

key and started back toward home.

All that time we had only been kissing. Lips and necks.

Her dress was sleeveless, so sometimes I kissed her arms.

She leaned over me now and again, resting her forearm on 11

my erection, but that was as close as we came to sex until 12

we got back to my place.

The drive back was more than an hour. She filled up 14

the minutes talking about my aunts’ diaries and what im-15

portance they held.

“It’s what real history is made of,” Narciss said. She was 17

reclining comfortably in her seat. The window was open 18

and the wind blew across her face. “Recipes and funerals, 19

petty disputes and detailed explanations of social gaffes.

There’s some talk about race but not as much as you’d ex-21

pect. Your aunt Theodora was very religious, but Penel-22

ope and Jane-Anne hardly ever mentioned the Bible or 23

the Lord. Just the leaves of the diaries under a glass case 24

could be the room of a museum.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, reaching over to rest my 26

hand on the upper thigh of her left leg.

27 S

She shuddered, but I didn’t know if it was from the an-28 R

ticipation of sex or the chance she had to become a curator.

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“Put your arms up over your head,” I said to Narciss C 14

Gully.

We were both naked and lying on my mother’s bed. She 16

hesitated but then complied. I bound her wrists together 17

with my left hand and proceeded to take her nipple in my 18

mouth.

Her breasts were small, but the nipples were quite large.

Though darker, they had the same multicoloring as the 21

rest of her skin. The nipples were very hard against my 22

tongue. I worked my hand down between her legs and 23

flicked my finger against the moist flesh under the mound 24

of hair.

“Oh God!” she hissed. “Oh no.”

I continued to tease and nibble until her hissing turned S 27

into a shout.

R 28

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“Oh God, oh no. Stop! Please. Too much.”

“You want me to stop?” I asked while still licking her 3

nipple.

“Please.”

“First I’ll count to five,” I said.

“Oh.”

“One . . .”

Narciss raised her head between her extended arms to 9

look down at what my hand was doing.

“. . . two . . .”

She grinned and then grimaced . . .

“. . . three . . .”

. . . and then slammed her head back on the mattress.

“. . . four . . .”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Please. I can’t take it.”

“Five.”

I released her and moved my teasing hand away. I stood 20

above her and she turned over on her stomach, inviting 21

me to lie down on her back.

“Do you hear something, Charles?”

I had just awakened in the dark room. Narciss was 26

standing at the window, cupping her ear toward the 27 S

pane.

28 R

I got up and went to her. It pleased me that she was still 202

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naked. I put my arm around her slender waist and she 1

draped her arm on my shoulder.

“Listen,” she said.

In the silence of night, you could barely make it out.

No more than a murmur, it was only audible due to the 5

proximity of my mother’s window.

“It’s that man again,” I said.

“What man?”

“The man who lives out in these woods some summers.

It’s a hobo or something. Now and then someone calls the 10

police, but they never find him. He’s crazy, and some-11

times when he drinks too much wine, he gets pretty loud.

He keeps his distance though. You have to listen closely 13

just to hear it at all.”

“Have you seen him?”

“No, never.”

“Then how do you know all of that?”

“I’ve found his camps and empty bottles of cheap wine.

Some people have seen him too, but not me.” My lies 19

were becoming too large. I knew I should let it go, but I 20

couldn’t. “We called him the Padre when I was younger, 21

because some folks said that he was preaching to the trees.

He seems harmless enough.”

I kissed Narciss and she forgot about Anniston Bennet’s 24

shouts and my lies.

Narciss needed to talk. She was very nervous about sur-26

rendering so completely to a man she hardly knew and S 27

told me so.

R 28

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“The last time I fell for a man so fast, it was all wrong,”

she said as I was rubbing body oil into her shoulders. “It 3

felt wonderful, but he wasn’t the man for me.”

“But he was right for a moment,” I argued.

“He was awful. He would take things from my house.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. A pearl ring, twenty dollars that I kept in a 8

cookie jar, even large things like a toaster that I kept under 9

the sink. At first I thought I was going crazy. But then one 10

day I set a paper clip on the back of my jewelry box. He 11

must have lifted the lid without noticing the pin. I knew 12

immediately that he’d taken my zircon earrings. He did it 13

three more times after that, and I broke up with him.”

She pulled away from my massage and lay on her back.

I reclined, resting my head on her small stomach.

“Why did you wait?” I asked. “Why didn’t you get rid 17

of him after the first time?”

She sat up, pushing my head down into her lap. I kissed 19

her stomach. I remember because she had a ticklish reac-20

tion and then grabbed my hair to make me stop.

“It was weird,” she said. “Like The Twilight Zone. I 22

knew he was doing it, but he didn’t know that I knew. I’d 23

leave money in my purse or an earring on the night table 24

and then he’d come in and do that love thing he did.”

“It was that good?” I asked.

“He was a wonderful lover,” she said. “But that wasn’t 27 S

why I kept him on for so long. It was like he was my shy 28 R

prostitute, you know? He didn’t want to feel like a whore, 204

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so I would let him steal from me and pretend that I didn’t 1

miss it.”

I kissed her stomach again. This time she didn’t grab 3

my hair.

“So then why did you finally decide to break it off ?”

“Because I started to change,” she said.

“Change how?”

“I don’t know if I should talk about it. I mean I don’t 8

even know you.” Narciss stroked my head then, but I re-9

frained from any more kisses.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I understand. We all have our se-11

crets.”

Really I didn’t care about Narciss’s secret sex life with 13

her gigolo. I was thinking about the man in my base-14

ment, about what the consequences might be after he got 15

out of his cell.

“It’s not any kind of big secret or anything,” she said.

“It was just that I was acting like some other person and I 18

didn’t like who that person was.”

“And who was that?” I asked, sitting up.

“I was aggressive. I made him do things and I asked him 21

questions while we were . . . were doing it. I started calling 22

him names and doing things that I never did before.”

“What kind of things?”

She had finally caught my interest.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” She stood up and 26

walked out of my mother’s door.

S 27

I went to the window and cupped my ear to the pane.

R 28

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It could have been a moose, maybe five miles distant.

That’s what I could have said.

I was tired and almost scared of what I had done to An-4

niston Bennet. I wondered if he had a strong heart — if 5

the stressful time in my basement might kill him. I wanted 6

to run down while Narciss was in the toilet and make sure 7

that the prisoner wasn’t dying. But then I thought that 8

Bennet’s death would make everything easier. No one 9

knew where he was, he said. I could just put him in the 10

ground in my family’s plot. If no one was looking for 11

him, he’d never be found. For a brief moment I consid-12

ered leaving him down there until he died of starvation. If 13

he died he couldn’t get back at me.

When I realized that I was contemplating murder, I 15

backed away from the window.

“Did you see him?” Narciss said from behind.

“No. No.”

“Then why’d you jump away from the window like 19

that?”

“I just remembered something. I have to go into the 21

city tomorrow for a meeting. I thought it was the day af-22

ter, but I just realized that I got confused.”

“Oh.” There was disappointment in Narciss’s voice.

“How will I get back to my car?”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’ll give you a ride to 26

your car when we get up.”

27 S

“Oh.” She hesitated. “I thought you were trying to get 28 R

rid of me now.”

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“Why would you think that? You think I’d kick you out 1

of my house in the middle of the night?”

“You’ve been so restless,” she said. “I thought you 3

wanted to be alone.”

It was then that I realized what had happened to me.

Really, what had happened to the world around me. Be-6

fore Anniston Bennet had come into my life, I was invis-7

ible, moving silently among the people of the Harbor. No 8

one wondered about me; no one questioned me. Even my 9

best friends simply accepted what they saw. The card-10

player with a sharp tongue who couldn’t back up half the 11

things he said. The petty thief, the man across the street, 12

dead Samuel’s son. I might as well have been a tree at the 13

end of the block. People saw me well enough to walk 14

around, but that was just about it.

And for my part I treated everything and everyone 16

around me in the same way. I could put a name on 17

them, maybe. But I rarely touched or spoke a meaning-18

ful word to a soul. Weeks could go by and not one worth-19

while piece of information would pass between me 20

and another human being. The only chance I had at inti-21

macy was with Clarance and Cat, but 90 percent of 22

my time with them was spent under the influence of al-23

cohol.

But now everything was different — half different, 25

really. Still nobody saw me. The people at Curry’s bar in 26

East Hampton, people on the street in the Harbor. Bethany S 27

and Narciss saw something that was like me — an image R 28

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of what I thought I wanted to be — but they had no idea 2

what was on my mind.

What had changed was what I saw. It was as if 4

everybody had become like a mirror, and I saw reflections 5

of what they saw instead of what it was they were trying 6

to show me or tell me. Narciss had become a mirror and 7

an echo chamber, giving me back every word uttered and 8

gesture made. And when I saw or heard something I 9

didn’t like, I had the chance to alter my behavior.

“No, baby,” I said. “Not at all. I want to see you. I want 11

you here. It’s just that there’s been so much on my mind, 12

and I feel so comfortable with you that I kind of sink into 13

it, if you know what I mean.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

But her nipples were tightening again, and I was feeling 16

the beginnings of another erection.

“Let’s go to bed,” I said. I could have been an actor in 18

an old black-and-white movie. An airplane ace or inter-19

national journalist, world-weary and in need of quiet love.

She was in the movie too, and happy with her role. Arm 21

in arm we walked back to the bed, moving together like 22

choreographed dancers. Every kiss hit its mark and every 23

breath was on cue.

27 S

28 R

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Anniston Bennet stopped shouting sometime the next C 14

morning. After driving Narciss to her car, I went down to 15

the hatch and listened, but there wasn’t a murmur or 16

sound. At first I thought about going in and checking on 17

him, but then I decided that I should stick to my guns 18

and make him wait the full ninety-six hours. I figured 19

that he was still going to be mad no matter what, so I 20

might as well do something worth him being mad.

I spent almost all of the next three days away from the 22

house. The first night I hung out at Curry’s bar, lying 23

about my business and drinking up a storm. In the morn-24

ing I got up early and started worrying about the sergeant 25

that Bennet had slaughtered in North Vietnam.

But we aren’t in Vietnam, I said to myself.

S 27

R 28

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But he is a killer, I answered.

That morning I had made a date to go horseback riding 3

for the first time in my life. I’d met a young white couple 4

named Jodie and Byron. They were wealthy and invited 5

me to come riding with them. I said that I’d never ridden 6

before, but they promised that they’d show me how.

They had a girl they wanted me to meet. Extine was her 8

name. She took me, along with Jodie and Byron, on a trip 9

in woods around Southampton that I had never seen.

Every inch of those woods is etched in my memory by the 11

pain that saddle inflicted.

Jodie and Extine were cousins. Byron was Jodie’s hus-13

band. They lived in the Hamptons every summer and fall 14

and then spent the rest of the year between Aspen and 15

Maui. Their money came from their parents. Who knows 16

where it was before that?

Extine had big blond hair and big teeth that she pre-18

sented in a permanent smile.

Extine loved horses. She told me that she had ridden 20

every day of her life since the age of twelve.

“I love horses’ hair and teeth and eyes,” she told me two 22

minutes after we met. “When I was a girl I’d sneak out of 23

the house at night to sleep in the stables with my mare.”

“It’s great that you had something like that,” I said. “I 25

know a lot of people who never had something that they 26

loved so much.”

27 S

I was thinking about myself — about how I had wan-28 R

dered in and out of the same front door for thirty-three 210

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years without ever knowing which way I should have been 1

going.

“Boy just like a housefly,” Uncle Brent used to say. “So 3

busy buzzin’ he don’t see the wall till it smack him upside 4

the head.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Extine asked with a sort of 6

wonderment in her voice.

“I guess you could say that you were crazy,” I said. “I 8

mean crazy basically means that you’re different from 9

everybody else, and since you know what you want and 10

most other people don’t have any idea, then they got to 11

call you crazy. But only because they’re jealous.”

Extine loved me after that. She was a big physical girl, 13

just like her mare. All she wanted was to gallop and romp 14

up and down the hot trails around the Hamptons.

She liked my company because I didn’t think there was 16

anything wrong with her obsession with horses. As a mat-17

ter of fact I liked her because everything about her came 18

down to horses. And a horse was an animal, like a deer.

Byron and Jodie took Extine and me to a cabin in woods 20

connected to a property that was either theirs or a friend’s.

It was a large place, and soon after dinner the big blond 22

horsewoman and I wandered off to a secluded part of the 23

residence.

That night we kissed a lot, but she didn’t want to have 25

sex. Extine was engaged to a guy named Sanderson who 26

wouldn’t mind if she kissed somebody, but he’d draw the S 27

line at intercourse.

R 28

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I didn’t care. My inner thighs were in deep pain. I was 2

sure that I was bleeding on the inside. I fell asleep midkiss 3

and didn’t wake up until noon the next day. My new 4

friends were all gone, leaving me miles away from any-5

where without a car. I spent most of the afternoon walk-6

ing down paths in an abandoned apple orchard, trying to 7

find a way down to the road.

It was a hot day and I had to remove my sweater and 9

top shirt. I was still in pain and limping, very thirsty too, 10

I remember, and slightly panicked that I might die out 11

there in the woods. The dirt of the path was bone-dry.

The blossoms of the apples had begun their transforma-13

tion to fruit. For a long time I hadn’t thought about my 14

prisoner, but on that desolate walk he came back to me.

A white man, maybe, who didn’t know one thing about 16

his past. Pure evil in the way of business. A thief and a 17

killer by his own admission. Why did he want to be 18

caged, anyway? He never really answered my question.

I thought that maybe I should disappear to Aspen or 20

Hawaii. Maybe I should let the white man go and take his 21

money and vanish.

I made it to a back road and finally got a ride to Curry’s.

There I sat and drank until closing time. When they 24

kicked me out, I slept in my car and rose with the sun 25

stabbing my eyes.

27 S

■

28 R

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He could have been dead for all that I knew. But the deal 1

was ninety-six hours, and I cracked the hatch on the second.

The air in there was musty. I snapped on the light, and An-3

niston Bennet rose to his feet. He was bare chested but wore 4

his bright-blue bottoms. Thick black hairs sprouted from 5

his jaw, and there were gray bags under his eyes.

“Morning, Mr. Bennet,” I said. “You ready to get outta 7

here?”

His eyes, I noticed, were black, not blue. The absence 9

of his contact lenses seemed to be saying something that I 10

wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“I screamed for a whole day after you dropped that 12

door,” he said. “I kept it up like a chant. Must be pretty 13

soundproof. After that didn’t work I sharpened that can 14

opener you left on the floor outside the cage. Then I 15

made a slingshot out of the elastic in my other pair of 16

pants. I was going to wait until you walked in and then I 17

was going to shoot you dead.”

I felt a drop of sweat as it went down past my left ear.

“But then I had to wait too long for you to come back, 20

and the blood lust drained away.” He sat in his red chair.

“It’s dark in here, you know. Black, actually, and the air 22

gets thick when you don’t open the door.”

He passed the fingertips of both hands lightly over his 24

eyebrows, then looked up at me. “You made me think 25

about the things I came here to pay for. You made me 26

wonder about the life that I thought I could repent. Lit-S 27

R 28

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tle Malo from northern Uganda. A small chest of dia-2

monds in Rwanda. There were tens of thousands there.

But Malika, I think her name was Malika, was just one.

“You know, I’ve walked past death so many times that 5

you’d think I’d somehow end up dead like that, but I 6

haven’t. Maybe I went a little crazy. I know a man in Con-7

necticut who is willing to kill anyone anywhere in Africa 8

or South America. He says he won’t kill in this country or 9

Europe, but life down south is open season for him. I 10

know a man in the kidney business and another one who 11

deals only in hearts.”

“Is he black?” I asked.

“Who?”

“The assassin.”

“Yes. Yes, he is. But that doesn’t matter. He could be a 16

white man. The fact is that he has become an individual, 17

a man who takes actions solely from his own decision.

Just like me, he is what he makes of himself. Maybe one 19

day he’ll fall apart too, but that won’t matter either. You 20

can never take back your life.”

I didn’t believe Bennet. His sorrow and self-pity, I 22

thought, were a trick somehow. The only thing I couldn’t 23

figure was what he had to gain by fooling me now.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked.

“No.”

“What you mean, no? You want another four days in 27 S

the hole?”

28 R

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He clasped his hands in front of his face as if in prayer 1

and said, “I haven’t done anything else wrong.”

“What do you want from me, Mr. Bennet?”

“One time I walked into a room in Amsterdam wearing 4

a polo shirt and khaki pants and changed the future of a 5

nation” was his reply. “I once gave a nine-month-old in-6

fant as a present to a man’s dog. The man wanted to see if 7

the myth of wolves raising men could be true. I walked 8

through a city of the dead, in Rwanda, guarded by soldiers 9

who were paid in dollars. Everywhere men and women 10

had lain for so long that their bones had softened and they 11

had become deflated bags of maggots. I retrieved enough 12

money in diamonds to rebuild a nation, but instead I took 13

those jewels and put them in a titanium box in the Alps.

“I’m still a bookkeeper behind enemy lines. Do you 15

understand that, Mr. Dodd-Blakey?”

“No, I don’t.”

“What did you do while I was down here?”

“I learned to ride horses and I got drunk and I got laid.”

“Did you hear me screaming?”

“Sometimes. Not much though. You sounded like a 21

moose who got stuck in some briar about a mile or so 22

from here.”

“Did you worry that I might die?”

“Some.”

“Did you worry that I might kill you for treating me 26

like that?”

S 27

R 28

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Walter Mosley

“No,” I lied.

“Have you ever watched a child being murdered, Mr.

Blakey?”

I shook my head and squinted.

“I once made ten million dollars because I was willing 6

to deliver one million to a man hiding from the commu-7

nists in Nicaragua. That’s the American way.” He laughed.

“Why are you here, Mr. Knosos?”

“Last summer I had a deal fall through.”

I had gotten up to the gate and now I was shaking, too 11

afraid to go further.

“You know,” I said, “I don’t think I need to know this.”

“Let me stay a little bit longer, Charles,” Anniston Ben-14

net said. “You can take away the books and just feed me 15

bread and water if you want. You can keep the lights off 16

all the time, but please don’t ask me to leave here.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No. No, I’m not crazy at all. As a matter of fact I’m 19

very sane. That’s because I stopped for a minute and 20

looked around and saw what it was that I was doing. All 21

of a sudden I realized what was happening, what I had 22

done was so, so . . .”

“. . . evil,” I said, thinking that I was finishing his 24

thought. “You realized that you were evil?”

Bennet was rubbing his fingers along the rough surface 26

of his chin, considering my words.

27 S

“No, and yes. What had happened was evil. The child 28 R

torn apart and half devoured by a dog in the night.

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Procuring a heart or a kidney for a man who I might need 1

as a business contact one day. The act is evil.” Bennet’s 2

face contorted to grapple with the concept he was ex-3

plaining. “Yes. And my actions were also evil, criminal.

But it was not me; it was the world around me. Not me 5

but the commerce and the language of our world.” He 6

scooted up to the edge of his plastic chair and held his 7

hands out separately, pinching the fingers together. “Death 8

and starvation are integral parts of our language system, 9

our form of communication. Do what I say or else. Do 10

your job or you’re fired. These words carry consequence. To 11

avoid pain we comply. Or we don’t and then we die. Our 12

logic is evil, so the smartest and the most successful are 13

devils. Like me. I am a good citizen and the worst demon.

I realized it when a deal fell through. I failed and I had a 15

dream and in the dream, I had done the right thing —

failing.”

“And so you’re punishing yourself because you did 18

good?” I asked.

He laughed. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes yes.

I did the right thing and the whole world, my whole 21

world, fell apart. I realized that the fact of my failure was 22

good in one way. But even though thousands may have 23

been spared, that is not important. In order for man to 24

survive as a species, there has to be people like me. People 25

have to die for others to produce. The deaths are wrong, 26

but the continuation of the world is more important.”

S 27

“So then you have been doing the right things. So R 28

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Walter Mosley

there’s nothing wrong with you. And if that’s true then 2

why would you feel that you need to be punished?”

Bennet sat back in his chair with all the certainty and 4

fear of a despot awaiting his long-overdue execution.

“I was arrested once in Uganda. There was no trial; I 6

was just taken to prison. I was beaten and tortured” — he 7

leaned forward to indicate the scars on his shoulder —

“and then left to contemplate my sins in a small cell. Pain 9

is a part of life and I’ve always accepted the fact of death.

But the time I spent in that cell, though I hated it while I 11

was there, was like a gap in the thoroughfare that had 12

been my life. Like the road just stopped and then there 13

was a forest. A black forest, thick and dark, with no 14

promise at all.

“My life stopped in that cell. And my worst enemy was 16

everything that I knew. The blood work I’ve done. It was 17

the worst experience I ever had. As the days went by, I got 18

sick on the magnitude of what I had done. When they 19

released me, I had to be hospitalized. I gashed my own 20

thigh with a bayonet so that no one would realize how 21

precarious my mind had become.

“As bad as that time in prison was, I wanted to go 23

back — to face the evil and accept the accusations in my 24

own mind. That’s why I came here. I had no idea that 25

you’d do the dictator one better by turning out the lights.

“I came here hoping to make a statement to myself. To 27 S

isolate and punish the part of me who sees the evil. The 28 R

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your deeds. But when I was in that darkness, hating you, 1

I saw everything all over again. I remembered checking 2

the situation in Rwanda every day for over a year. We 3

knew it was going to blow up down there. And then I 4

remembered walking along the streets of the dead. In 5

the darkness here, I can almost feel them. My own 6

body odors are reminiscent of the smell of death. I could 7

understand how the sweat and gasses become stronger 8

when you die and then they leak out of you. And it’s so 9

dark and your heart is still beating, but death might be 10

like that.

“I could not have stopped the massacre of the people 12

there. I could not have changed the history set in motion 13

centuries ago. And if I tried I would have lost all my 14

power. I would have become like an ant under the foot of 15

another man like me.”

“I still don’t get it, Mr. Bennet. Why here? Why me?”

“At first it was just a joke. Not a joke on you, Charles. I 18

like you. You have a lot of potential. I chose you so that 19

Anniston Bennet, the whitest white man that I could 20

think up, would be jailed by a black man who really was 21

a blue blood in American history. But then, when I got to 22

know more about you, it seemed that you were my oppo-23

site in many more ways. You have done very little with 24

your life, haven’t you? No profession, no job. You have 25

never completed one project. You’ve never made a woman 26

pregnant or voted, as far as I can tell. You quit school.

S 27

“Your whole life could be called a failure. Every second R 28

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Walter Mosley

up until this moment has been wasted. But still you are 2

truly innocent while I, who have changed the course of 3

nations, am not worthy to call you friend.”

There was a fanatic tone to Bennet’s words. Because of 5

this I didn’t pay much attention, at that moment, to the 6

insults he gave me. Later on, after he was gone, I thought 7

about what he had said. There wasn’t much that I could 8

disagree with. He was evil and I was a failure; maybe that 9

was the difference between the good and bad people of 10

the world.

“Can I stay?” he asked again.

“What do you expect to get out of staying down here?”

“I just don’t want to leave yet, Warden. I need a little 14

more time to think about all this.”

“It sounds like you got it all figured out already,” I said.

“To save the world or whatever, you’ve got to be a 17

badass.”

“The words I say to you are just words. But the child I 19

sold into death, the corpses I robbed — these are the 20

truths that I can no longer avoid. I have to make peace 21

with them. I have to make peace with them or I’ll go 22

crazy.”

You’re not too far from that already, I thought to myself.

“Just another week,” he said. “Just seven more days.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Thank you, Charles. Thank you,” he said.

27 S

28 R

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I brought him breakfast and didn’t unlock the cage, so C 14

he could stay for at least the day. Maybe I’d free him that 15

evening — that’s what I thought.

He wanted to talk more, but I refused. Just the few hints 17

at the violence and pain he had caused set off a shaking in-18

side me. I wandered around the floor of my house; then I 19

tried to read a book. My mouth was producing too much 20

saliva, and I had to swallow and spit continually. I had gas 21

pains relieved only by foul-smelling farts. My fingers and 22

toes felt numb. My teeth hurt at the gums.

I was scared to death. I felt like a man riding an ava-24

lanche; it was only a matter of time before I’d be plowed 25

under and crushed.

I wanted my mother or father. Even a bad word from S 27

R 28

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Uncle Brent would have been a relief from my fears. I 2

went to the liquor cabinet but couldn’t stomach the idea 3

of drinking.

Finally I sat down on the floor in the middle of the liv-5

ing room and closed my eyes. It was something I had 6

done when I was a small boy. When everything got too 7

exciting, I’d sit on the floor and think about the shadows 8

on my eyelids. On a sunny day the darks and lights, the 9

blues, grays, and reds that appeared behind closed eyes 10

were like the ocean. I imagined myself as a little octopus, 11

seeing the sea world and feeling safe because I had so 12

many arms. Sometimes I’d make up little songs, hum-13

ming a tune about nothing and floating in the ocean 14

among fishes and sea kings.

I had crossed over from turmoil to childish ecstasy by 16

the time the doorbell rang. I don’t know how long I had 17

been sitting, but my feet were asleep and it was painful 18

and slow for me to rise. I didn’t know how long the bell 19

had been ringing either, but it stopped before I could 20

hobble to the front door. I remember laughing at my ex-21

aggerated limp. Like an old man, I thought. And for some 22

reason that made me happy.

She was headed back down the front stairs. Across the 24

street, Miss Littleneck was watching.

“Extine,” I called out.

The woman with the big blond hair hesitated a mo-27 S

ment and then turned around.

28 R

“Hi,” she said. “I came over to say that I was sorry.”

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She was wearing jeans and a button-up blue-cotton 1

blouse that didn’t cover her midriff. Both articles of cloth-2

ing were tight. She had yellow rubber flip-flops on her 3

feet and a yellow-and-white scarf around her neck.

Just thrown together, Uncle Brent’s voice said in my 5

memory.

“Come on in,” I invited. She accepted with a bowed 7

head.

“How did you find where I lived?” I asked Extine in the 11

breakfast nook next to the kitchen. I had poured her 12

some apple juice, which she wasn’t drinking.

“Petey said that he knew a guy who knew where your 14

house was,” she answered.

Petey was the regular bartender at Curry’s. Somebody 16

in town must have recognized me.

I was struck and scared by her appearance at my door.

It’s not that I cared about Extine finding me, but I real-19

ized that my feeling of invisibility was false. People did see 20

me. They knew when I passed in the street. My actions 21

were noted no matter how small I thought I was.

“So I decided,” she continued, “to come over and apol-23

ogize for leaving you out there like that.”

“Why did you leave me?” I asked.

“Jodie and By left and I told them that I would drive 26

you home. They were mad at me because they thought I S 27

slept with you, and Byron and Sanderson are friends. I R 28

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Walter Mosley

don’t know. I guess I got mad at you. I thought that you 2

had taken advantage of me . . .”

“I passed out,” I complained. “And then you left me 4

without a ride.”

“You put your hands on my breasts and jerked me by 6

the arm,” she countered. “I thought you were going to 7

rape me.”

“I don’t remember,” I said. And I didn’t. “I remember 9

kissing you. I remember that. But I thought that that was 10

okay. I thought you liked it.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted your hands all over me.”

She was getting angry. I could see that she was deeply 13

bothered.

“I’m sorry, Extine,” I said. “It was a bad mix — whiskey 15

and horsehair. Please accept my apology. You know I 16

didn’t want to make you mad.”

“Okay,” she said as if it was the apology she had come 18

for. “And I’m sorry too, about leaving you out there with 19

no way to get home.”

“Why did you leave me?” I asked again.

The question surprised her. By her face I could see that 22

she thought the answer was obvious.

“I mean,” I continued. “Did you think that you just 24

wanted to get away from me? That you couldn’t stand one 25

more minute in my company and you just had to leave? Or 26

was it that you were mad at me and wanted to hurt me by 27 S

making me walk all those miles lost in the woods?”

28 R

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She thought about the question for a moment, and 1

then a moment more.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I was mad. I didn’t want to 3

see you. And I didn’t know what you would be like in the 4

morning all alone out there. When By and Jodie left, it 5

was only you and me. I was afraid, I guess.”

“Afraid that I’d hurt you?”

“I guess.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“I felt guilty. That’s why.”

“Guilty because you kissed me? Or guilty that you left?”

Extine frowned and did not answer.

I stood up and she scrambled to her feet.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I wouldn’t have hurt you even in 14

those woods. I’m a safe Negro. You could put a soap bub-15

ble in my hand and it’d never even pop.”

Extine liked neither the sound of my voice nor the 17

words that I said.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Yeah. I know.”

I watched her drive away in a convertible Jaguar sports 23

car. I don’t remember the model, but it was expensive, no 24

doubt.

“Charles,” Miss Littleneck called from across the street.

“Yes, ma’am?”

S 27

R 28

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“Who was that white girl?”

“Just somebody I met.”

For a long time after she was gone, I thought about Ex-6

tine. Her presence, her kisses, meant very little to me.

Our physical relationship, what little of it there was, was 8

no more than an exercise. I realized that most physical in-9

timacy was like that for me. I liked sex, but it was only a 10

bodily pleasure. It wasn’t an expression of love but just a 11

need, a pleasant moment, sometimes even a chore.

What mattered about Extine was that she sought me 13

out, that she found me. All of the women I had gotten to 14

know after meeting Anniston Bennet had that in com-15

mon. They made me real by seeking me. It’s not that they 16

knew what they were looking for. Bethany only liked me 17

because I resisted her erotic power. Extine . . . Extine 18

liked horses, and at the end of a satisfying day in the sad-19

dle, she found me at her side. Narciss called me Mr.

Blakey. She refused to see the solitary and jobless man 21

who hadn’t accomplished one thing in his entire life.

It wasn’t that she was trying to form me with her blind-23

ness. She could only see in me what she needed. But 24

because of the purity of her vision, I changed. I didn’t be-25

come what she needed, but the force she exerted on me —

the impact of her desire — caused love of a sort. Not the 27 S

kind of feeling that would bring us together but love still 28 R

and all.

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The Man in My Basement

To a lesser extent I was changed by Bethany and Extine.

We had shared a moment of transformation — like in 2

one of my science-fiction novels.

After going through that long tunnel of thought, I 4

emerged realizing that I could now answer Anniston Ben-5

net’s question about love.

I went straight to the cellar and found Mr. Bennet with 9

an erection. You could see the enormous arching contour 10

under his hand-washed prison pants. I imagined that he 11

had been masturbating when I opened the hatch and 12

didn’t have time to calm down. I didn’t ask him about it 13

though. I had more important things on my mind.

“Did you really sell a baby to a man’s dog?” I asked even 15

before perching on the trunk.

I had thought that we would talk about love. I hoped to 17

impress him with my self-realization. But once I under-18

stood my own impulses, I found that I was hungry for 19

more understanding.

“Yes,” Bennet answered in an almost silent whisper.

“Did you know about Rwanda before it happened and 22

didn’t say a word?”

“Yes,” he said a little louder. “But that’s different. Every-24

one knew that it was about to explode down there. Saying 25

words wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t know if anything I 26

could have done would have made a difference.”

S 27

“And you stole that painting?”

R 28

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He nodded.

“. . . and killed that sergeant?”

He nodded again.

“. . . and you bought human organs from a man who 5

dealt in that trade?”

Bennet hesitated a moment and then nodded again.

“But you still don’t think you’re a murderer? Even 8

though somebody’s got to die to give up a heart.”

Bennet almost answered that but then swallowed and 10

stayed silent.

“What was your failure?” I asked him.

“I thought you didn’t want to know about that?”

“I don’t,” I said. “But I have to. I have to know what I 14

got down here. I can’t be too afraid to ask.”

“Why not, Charles?”

“Because it’s here. I took your money and now I have to 17

know what I sold.”

Bennet’s face was filled with an emotion that I could 19

not decipher.

“It was a device,” he said. “A device that could cause 21

terrible damage if put into the wrong hands. I knew 22

about a youthful indiscretion of a man who had some 23

overseas contacts, influence. We knew each other socially, 24

as chance would have it. But it was through e-mail, 25

anonymously, that I delivered my threat. It wasn’t black-26

mail exactly because he stood to become a wealthy man 27 S

with our transaction. But circumstances threw the deal 28 R

out of whack. It didn’t work out.”

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“What circumstances?”

“A case of conscience and subsequent suicide.” Bennet’s 2

words were completely emotionless.

“So he saved his name without giving in to you.” I felt 4

the victim’s triumph.

“He didn’t give in,” Bennet agreed. “But his secret was 6

still leaked. It was in all the papers nine months ago. I had 7

to punish him even though he was dead because there 8

would be other candidates and they should realize that 9

consequences go beyond the grave.”

“You are evil,” I said.

“I’m a tool, Charles. A precision tool. A tool of de-12

struction. A tool of the dollar and the euro and the yen.

But my actions are not mine alone. All the possibility of 14

the world exists without me. That man would have died 15

anyway. And the target of that device will one day be 16

destroyed. That’s the way of the world. It’s not a question 17

of good or evil. It’s a question of humanity and what is 18

done in that name.”

“Then why put yourself down here?” I asked again.

Bennet’s erection was gone. He winced and grimaced, 21

clutched his hands into fists.

“Don’t you understand yet? I can’t explain it like the in-23

structions to put together a box. It’s powerful stuff. Pow-24

erful stuff. Powerful enough to destroy.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“No.”

S 27

“Will you answer my question?”

R 28

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Walter Mosley

“I’ve already answered as well as I could.”

“I don’t believe that. So you either answer me right now 3

or leave or spend four more days in the hole.”

“I can’t leave and I’ve already answered.”

I brought him more bread and condensed milk, which 6

I opened for him since I had confiscated his opener. Then 7

I left him with ninety-six more hours to contemplate his 8

crimes.

27 S

28 R

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Around that time I started putting money in banks in C 14

Southampton, East Hampton, out down in Long Island 15

City. Five hundred dollars at a time in interest-bearing sav-16

ings accounts. I dated Bethany, Extine, and Narciss three of 17

the four nights that I avoided the hatch behind my house.

Extine spent the night wanting to kiss me, but I refrained 19

because I knew that would take her power away. Narciss 20

and I went to see the remastered version of Orson Welles’s 21

Touch of Evil. Afterward we talked about it and then I 22

drove her home. She asked me to come in, but I said no.

“Don’t you like me?” she asked with excruciating honesty.

“I do, honey. But I’m like an athlete in training. I need 25

all my power to concentrate.”

“Training for what?”

S 27

“An examination. A test that Mr. Dent is giving me.”

R 28

“What kind of test?”

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“Just to see what I know, what I can do.”

“Like an aptitude test?”

“Uh-huh. Just like that.”

Bethany was the biggest problem and the most fun. I 5

took her to the fanciest restaurant we knew, the Captain’s 6

Table in Amagansett. I told her up front that I was going 7

home alone, and she proceeded to spend the rest of the 8

night being all sexy and seductive. Every move of her 9

shoulders set my heart to thrumming.

I kissed her for a long while at her door. But then I told 11

her that I had to get home, that I had an important meet-12

ing the next day. And that was no lie.

Every night I sat up late with my ancestors. Leonard, 14

the geeky-looking one, JoJo, the warrior, and Singer, the 15

mask with his lips set into an O. I named them and 16

thought about them. I had made up their characters and 17

histories, but they were real to me.

Singer was a priest. He knew songs all the way back to 19

the first songs. He was from the Congo, I believed, and 20

not related to Leonard, who dealt in slaves, or JoJo, who 21

protected Leonard even though he knew what his brother 22

did was wrong.

I talked with them in earnest for hours. JoJo’s voice told 24

me that death was nothing to fear. Leonard suggested that 25

I get the money while I still had the man locked away and 26

powerless.

27 S

Singer I did not understand. His placid face always 28 R

chanting. I learned the most from him.

I wasn’t crazy. It’s just that my world had disintegrated.

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Or maybe it was that I never really had a life but hadn’t 1

known it, so I was blissful in my ignorance. Everything 2

began to fall apart when I started talking to Anniston Ben-3

net . . . No. Before Bennet and I started our talks on evil, 4

when I started cleaning out my cellar . . . Or maybe it went 5

all the way back to Uncle Brent or before him to when my 6

father died.

I put on a dark suit with a yellow shirt and a splashy red-10

and-blue tie to go see Bennet. His beard was filling in and 11

his dark eyes were intense. It took him a full five minutes 12

to get used to the light. He had lost weight, and from the 13

smell of the room, I thought he might have had an intes-14

tinal disorder.

I didn’t care about any of that. It wasn’t my choice, I 16

felt, but his. He could walk free at any time or answer my 17

questions and eat steak.

“Mr. Bennet,” I said.

“Mr. Dodd-Blakey.”

“Are you ready to answer my questions?”

“Don’t you mean am I ready to go home?”

“Not before you answer my questions.”

I thought that there were tears in his eyes, but I wasn’t 24

certain.

“Why do you want to be down here in this cage?” I asked.

“Don’t you see? Haven’t you been listening to me?” he S 27

said. “With a word from me, your life could end. Maybe R 28

just with a gesture. A sentence could level a city block or 233

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Walter Mosley

blow a jetliner out of the sky. A dream could destroy Phila-2

delphia. A disagreement could throw western Africa into 3

famine for five years. You see it every day on TV, but no one 4

listens. People like me move around, but no one knows our 5

names.”

“Maybe you’re hiding down here,” I suggested.

“I’m not afraid to die, Charles. I’ve truly walked 8

through the valley of death.”

“If you aren’t hiding, then are you afraid of what you 10

might do?”

“There’s nothing I can do. Nothing.”

“I don’t understand. If you feel like you don’t make a 13

difference, then why torture yourself ?”

Bennet looked at me with wide frightened eyes. “Don’t 15

leave me in the dark again, Charles. Give me a couple of 16

days with some food and light.”

“All you have to do is answer my question, Mr. Bennet.”

“Give me a couple of days.”

“Could that baby ask you that?”

Maybe I was crazy. I didn’t hate Bennet. I was his em-21

ployee. Somehow I felt that he was still calling the shots, 22

that he was making up his own mind to starve in darkness 23

four days more. He was tortured behind those black eyes, 24

under that scorched head. I was the tool of his penance.

He was a slaver of souls in the twentieth century. He 26

was a killer and a liar and a thief, but that didn’t matter to 27 S

me. From what he had said I understood that he was a 28 R

torturer of black people, but I believed him when he said that it wasn’t out of malice or even intent.

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My domination of him came from a personal conflict 1

we were having. I didn’t want to be another one of his 2

slaves. I was foolish enough to believe that I could take his 3

money and keep my freedom.

The next four days were spent pretty much as the last. I saw 7

a lady three out of four nights. The first day I went fishing 8

and didn’t catch a thing. The next day I saw Clarance and 9

Ricky together for the first time in months. I picked them 10

up in my car and treated them to drinks at the American 11

Hotel in Sag Harbor. We sat in the front room talking about 12

old times and drinking port. Clarance smoked a cigar.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” Clarance asked me in the 14

middle of our talk.

“What you mean?”

“I mean you never answer your phone and we don’t see 17

you. You don’t have a job, but you’re still in your house 18

and goin’ out buyin’ port. Somebody said that they saw 19

you at Curry’s in East Hampton. One guy saw you hitch-20

hiking down the road to Southampton.”

“I don’t know, Clarance,” I said. “Things are changing.

You know I haven’t done much with my life and I’d like 23

to change that if I could.”

“What you gonna do?”

I knew the answer to his question right then, when he 26

asked, but I didn’t answer because secrets had become S 27

dearer to me than their own content or designs.

R 28

The pecan pie was the most unexpected thing that hap-235

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Walter Mosley

pened while I waited for my prisoner to soften up in the 2

dark. I bought the pie, which was edged in chocolate, at a 3

roadside bakery stand that my mother used to frequent. It 4

was a beautiful pie. The pecans crowded the surface and 5

the crust rose like a collar, leaving ample room for the 6

chocolate edge.

I bought the pie in memory of my mother, but when I 8

got home I carried it across the street to Miss Littleneck.

She was delighted and insisted that I come in to share the 10

gift of giving with her sister, Chastity.

The entranceway to the Littleneck home was close and 12

unlivable, I thought. Irene led me up a flight of narrow 13

stairs to a room where the scent of death hovered like in-14

cense. In the small bed lay a woman, once black and now 15

gray, the size of a child and wearing a curly brown wig.

Her eyes might have been open. Her chest didn’t seem to 17

move. But I knew from the jittering finger of her left 18

hand on top of the blanket that she was still among the 19

living, at least for a little bit and a while.

“Chastity, look what little Charles Blakey brought us,”

Irene Littleneck said. “He brought us your favorite pie. And 22

he didn’t even know that you liked it. Did you, Charles?”

I shook my head.

“Speak up, Charles,” Irene ordered. “Chassy doesn’t 25

hear so well.”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t know you liked the pie, but I hope 27 S

you like it.”

28 R

“Isn’t that nice?” Irene asked her sister.

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The dying woman’s fingers got a little more agitated.

Irene held her sister’s wrist and peered down into the half-2

closed eyes. “He’s a godsend, don’t you think?”

The one-sided talk went on for a while. Then Irene 4

turned to me and said, “We better let her get some rest.

You know, she hasn’t had a guest in more than three 6

years.”

“Mr. Bennet.”

“Mr. Dodd-Blakey.”

Anniston Bennet was sick by this time. His eyes had 12

trouble keeping their focus even after they had become ac-13

customed to the light. Only half a loaf of bread had been 14

eaten and he was unwashed. If I had not just seen Chastity 15

Littleneck, I might have broken down right then.

“Why do you torture me?” he asked.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell. I’m supposed to be down 19

here. Trapped by a Negro, a black man, until the bubble 20

in my brain passes. Until the itch in my heart goes away.”

He said all of that staring down at my feet. Again I didn’t 22

believe him. Anytime he showed weakness I thought it was 23

a trap.

“That’s no answer,” I said. It was a phrase my father 25

used when I avoided his questions.

“I swear it is,” Bennet said. “There’s a bubble in my brain, S 27

not a tumor but I can feel it. And I want to tear my chest R 28

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Walter Mosley

open. Did you know how far a woman would go to save 2

her babies from starvation?”

The last question took me by surprise.

“Say what?” I asked.

“That’s what you want to know,” Bennet said. “There 6

was a rich man somewhere on the Mediterranean who 7

wanted to experiment on a child. A thousand miles south 8

of him, there was a political campaign of famine being 9

waged. And among the population there were many 10

mothers who would have jumped at the offer of feeding 11

the rest of her family at the cost of one son. I was just a 12

conduit, a wire making the circuit. If one child had not 13

died, the whole family would have perished.”

“You could have saved them all,” I said.

“That time maybe. And maybe I did once in a while.

But the power is drained away if you never meet your ob-17

ligations. The rich man I aided gave me power that some 18

presidents wouldn’t have understood.”

“Is it the guilt over that child that brings you here?”

“No. I don’t think so. Can I have some oatmeal?”

I made his afternoon meal of porridge and returned to 24

watch him eat.

“Can I have light tonight?” he asked me.

“You could go home and sit next to a fire.”

27 S

“I don’t want to go. I have to wait out the time.”

28 R

“Then you can stay, but I want to hear everything. No more games.”

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No matter what it might sound like, I hadn’t become C 14

heartless. For the next three days, I fed Bennet porridge, 15

bananas, and other soft foods that would strengthen him.

I sat with him for hours just talking and keeping him 17

company. We played chess (which he always won) and 18

talked about stock investments that I should consider.

He got back some of his color and gained a pound or two.

One afternoon I went to an electronics store and 21

bought a long-play tape recorder that was small enough 22

to strap to my back. The tape had a two-hour capacity 23

and I could pin the microphone to the sleeve of my shirt.

“Okay,” I told my prisoner on the fourth day, the secret tape S 27

recorder running, “let’s go over everything you’ve done.”

R 28

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Walter Mosley

“Why do you want this?” he asked.

“Because you forced your way down here and got all in 3

my life. You know everything about my crimes and misde-4

meanors. You tell me that my cellar is your prison. Well all 5

right, fine, what are you in here for? What have you done?”

He smiled slightly. That’s how it began.

I have his confessions on tape in a secret place in the 8

basement. I keep it hidden behind a stone in the wall.

The crimes he detailed to me were fantastic and sick. He 10

robbed Peter to kill Paul. He was at the center of much 11

suffering that I never even knew existed.

“You think that you can have the easy life of TV and 13

gasoline without someone suffering and dying some-14

where?” he asked me. Then he told me about the execu-15

tion of three hundred loyal officers that one dictator 16

realized might turn against him one day. He had nothing 17

to do with the killings, but he was in that Central Amer-18

ican country at the time, making liaisons with that gov-19

ernment for a fruit concern in the Midwest. He knew the 20

plan before it was executed but did nothing to stop it.

“It was not my business,” he said.

“But could you have stopped it?” I asked.

“Not without killing every man, woman, and child in 24

this world,” he answered. “And it’s not really worth it, you 25

know. Saving lives.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

27 S

“I saved a man once,” he said. “He was a journalist in 28 R

the south of Africa. For the crime of writing against a 240

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mineral conglomerate, he was framed, arrested, and sen-1

tenced to death. I went to him on behalf of his sister. She 2

worked in an office I kept in Rhodesia. She begged me to 3

help. I liked her a lot so I told her that he was doing what 4

he had to do, but she still begged me. I went to him and 5

told him what would happen after he died. How the rest 6

of his friends and his loved ones would suffer. When he 7

refused me I told him that I would have to give his sister’s 8

name to the army because she was working against them 9

too. All he had to do was agree to keep silent and the min-10

eral company would forget him and give him money to 11

migrate off the continent.”

“Did he agree?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“So you saved him.”

“He died from drink in Morocco in just two years. You 16

can’t save fools and you can’t save victims. That’s why I’ve 17

got this bubble in my head. It’s like every step is planned 18

from the beginning.”

Weeks passed. Every day I spent down in the basement 20

with my prisoner and my secret tape recorder. That’s how 21

I began to think of him. My prisoner. As long as he was in 22

that basement, I figured that the world was a little safer 23

place. I was also his confessor, the chronicler of his sins.

After hearing about hundreds of crimes, I decided to 25

ask about Bennet’s own past.

“Did you ever find out who your father was?” I asked.

S 27

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

R 28

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“Would you rather four days in the hole?”

Bennet was afraid of the dark by that time. He had ex-3

perienced something down in the darkness that scared 4

him. I knew he wouldn’t refuse my questions. I had dom-5

inated him with the fear of isolation.

At that time I felt that my actions were justified.

“I don’t know who my father was. Except that he really 8

was from Turkey and that he was murdered after making 9

my mother pregnant.”

“How do you know that?”

“I hired a detective to search for him. He found that a 12

Tamal Hikmet was murdered in Harlem buying heroin 13

eight months before I was born. Tamal was a Turkish ille-14

gal. He was an addict and a playwright. No one could 15

have saved him. No one can save anyone, not even them-16

selves.”

“But maybe they can be redeemed,” I suggested. To my 18

knowledge that was the first time in my life that I had 19

ever used a derivative of the word redemption.

“What does that mean?”

“Maybe they can make amends for their crimes. Maybe 22

they can make a stand. Tell the world what is right.”

“You ever read Moby Dick, Charles?”

I had not and shook my head to say so.

“There’s a cook in that book,” my prisoner said. “A 26

cook who lectures to sharks about their nature. He tells 27 S

them that they could be angels if they just mastered their 28 R

appetites. He preached to them, but they didn’t under-242

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The Man in My Basement

stand. Our hearts are like those sharks. There’s no curbing 1

the appetite of a hungry heart.”

“Maybe he was talking to himself,” I said, not thinking 3

really, just making up words.

But Mr. Anniston Bennet, Tamal Knosos, aka Hikmet, 5

looked up at me with something like wonder in his face.

He wrestled with the words that I had already forgotten 7

and then repeated them and then wrestled some more.

“Talking to himself,” he said a third time.

Anniston Bennet was a murderer if you went by his 12

words. He had people killed, and he killed with his own 13

hands four times. Never in self-defense — he was a pred-14

ator with no natural enemies. But he never killed without 15

the say-so of officials in the government; he never killed 16

for passion — at least that’s what he said.

When his time in my cellar was almost up, he became 18

jaunty. He made jokes with me and said thank you every 19

night before I left him.

I was happy then too. I had three girlfriends, money in 21

the bank, and plans for my future, and I was friends with 22

Clarance and Ricky again. Some weeks earlier I told Nar-23

ciss that I wanted my family heirlooms back so I could 24

make a museum out of my ancestry in the house where 25

that family throve.

Every now and then Bennet would say to me, “The S 27

cook was talking to himself, huh, Charles?”

R 28

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Walter Mosley

“I don’t know,” I’d say to him. “I just said it. You’re the 2

one who read the book.”

He’d smile at me and sit back in his red chair. He had a 4

full beard by then, and he never wore his blue contacts at all.

It was his last Thursday in my home when I came down 8

to see him. I opened the hatch and was greeted by silence.

Usually I could hear the rustle of his movements, his 10

standing or rising from his cot. But that Thursday he did 11

not rise. He stayed sleeping in his bed.

“Mr. Bennet,” I said, but he made no motion.

I said it louder with no more effect.

By the third time I was frightened.

By the fifth I went back to my house to find the key to 16

his cage.

Anniston Bennet was dead. Peaceful and placid, lying 18

with no blankets, dressed only in his self-styled prison 19

pants. Under his bed was a neat stack of envelopes that 20

were sealed, stamped, and addressed to different people, 21

including me.

There was no wound or other sign of trauma. He had 23

just gone to sleep and drifted off to death. I never even 24

considered calling the hospital. His body was already stiff.

The letters were addressed mainly to people in New 26

York City and Washington, D.C. But there were en-27 S

velopes destined for Europe and Africa, Asia and South 28 R

America too.

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I opened only the one addressed to me.

Dear Charles:

Or should I say Warden? You have found me now, 5

dead, in your basement. I wonder what you will do with 6

my corpse? I have left letters for my business associates 7

and the two friends I have. There are also notes for two 8

wives and children. I have said good-bye to all of them. It 9

would be nice for you to send them.

But I know you may not be inclined to let out the news 11

of my death in your custody. There may be those who will 12

feel uncertain about your part in my death. And though 13

no one will hold you responsible, they might worry about 14

what I told you, seeing how crazy this suicide might seem.

There is one pill left in the glass on the floor. It is a fast-16

acting poison called Sleeper that was designed to be pain-17

less. I leave one for you in case you one day feel at an end.

I had the pills, but I wasn’t sure when I came to you 19

that I wanted to die. I mean, I’ve wanted to die for a long 20

time now, but I could see no reason until you left me in 21

the dark. In the dark they all came back to me. The dead 22

people and the fools. The women who gave themselves 23

for money and the men who gave themselves for women.

The old men who couldn’t even get it up anymore who 25

gave themselves for power. And me like a sheepdog keep-26

ing them in line, leading them to slaughter because it was S 27

what I was asked to do.

R 28

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I smelled blood in the darkness. I heard the silence of 2

death. And then a light would come and you would walk 3

down the stairs asking if the ones I killed were black men 4

just as if death had a race. I began to like you. Even 5

though you turned on me and beat me with the darkness 6

and silly questions.

When the confessions were all through, I knew there 8

was no more to say. You left just a few minutes ago. I will 9

take the Sleeper after this one last letter (the rest I’ve writ-10

ten over the past two weeks).

I want to die telling you something, Charles. I want to 12

pass something on, but I can’t think of a thing. Now that 13

death is coming the bubble is gone, the itch in my heart 14

has subsided and there’s nothing left to think.

The only words I have to pass on are the ones to a story 16

I never told you.

I once had to kill a man (a white man) — my boss.

The man who brought me into reclamations after I was 19

finished with government work. His name was Stewart 20

Tellman and he was from Greenwich too. He taught me 21

everything that I tried to tell you. I learned from him and 22

we did good business. But one day his grandson was 23

killed by a falling beam at a construction site. A hy-24

draulic lift went out of control.

Stew had the man working the lift murdered. Then he 26

started making crazy decisions on the job. He took chances 27 S

and left clues of our coming. He spent hours sitting in 28 R

the dark like you made me do for days.

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I went to his home one night while his wife was away 1

visiting their daughter. I came in a window and shot him 2

in the head. He was napping. His head was down on a 3

mahogany desk in the study. I shot him and it wasn’t 4

murder. He had killed himself as far as I was concerned.

I sat with him all night watching his blood congeal and 6

his skin tighten. I knew then (seventeen years ago) that 7

one day I would have to die like that. I decided to do it 8

myself rather than leave it for someone else.

But I couldn’t have done it without you, Charles. You 10

gave me the time to say good-bye. The rest of your 11

money is in a false bottom of my book trunk.

Tamal

The next few hours were the hardest I ever knew. The 16

man in my basement was dead. A corpse that I could 17

never explain. I sat with him all day and into the next 18

night. When it was late I went out into the graveyard and 19

dug a hole between my great-great-grandfather William P.

Dodd and my aunt Theodora. I dug all night long, won-21

dering if Miss Littleneck was hiding in the bushes, spying 22

on my crime.

I covered the hole with two doors that I took off the 24

hinges of the two toilets in my house. The next night I dug 25

some more. The hole was as deep as I am tall before I 26

dragged the board-stiff corpse from my basement. I rolled S 27

him in and covered him over. There was no ceremony.

R 28

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Walter Mosley

The following day I dismantled the cell. Over the next 2

few weeks I used a blowtorch and an electric saw to cut 3

the metal into pieces, which I deposited, along with the 4

dismantled toilet, in dump sites around the island. I 5

burned his trunk and books and clothes.

All that was left of him were those letters and about 7

forty tapes of his confessions.

He was right; I never sent his letters. I buried them with 9

his tapes in the basement where he died.

I started my museum. Now, with Narciss, I collect 11

pieces of black history from the area where I live. Narciss 12

and I don’t go out anymore. I told her that I’m not 13

monogamous but I’d still like to be friends. After a while 14

she came around.

I make my money from admission fees and from the 16

historically black colleges that send up graduate students 17

and professors now and then to study my collection. Nar-18

ciss is good at applying for grants, so we usually have 19

enough to pay our salaries.

Chastity Littleneck died and I was the only one other 21

than Irene and the minister at the funeral. The whole 22

time I kept thinking that it was Anniston Bennet’s funeral 23

I was attending. It was sad, but I didn’t cry.

Irene died four weeks later. She left me her house in a 25

new will. It was that one pecan pie and a walk in the 26

graveyard. Bennet was wrong but he would never know 27 S

it. Some people live according to love and being loved —

28 R

if only a little.

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The Man in My Basement

I rent the Littleneck house to rich people in the sum-1

mer. And I still live up in my childhood room, playing 2

cards on Thursdays (closing the museum early) and doing 3

very little to make life grand.

Extine went away at the end of the season. If she ever 5

came back she didn’t call me. Bethany married Ricky.

Clarance was his best man.

I don’t think I’ll ever get married. I still haven’t found 8

love, and whenever I think about children, I remember 9

that there once was a boy who was sold to a dog.

S 27

R 28

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about the author

WALTER MOSLEY is the author of the ac-9

claimed Easy Rawlins series of mysteries; the 10

novels Blue Light, RL’s Dream, and Fearless 11

Jones; and two collections of stories featuring 12

Socrates Fortlow, Always Outnumbered, Always 13

Outgunned, for which he received the Anisfield-14 C

Wolf Book Award, and Walkin’ the Dog. He was 16

born in Los Angeles and lives in New York.

27 S

28 R

3rd Pass Pages

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