The wake-up

42

Thorpe was halfway through the front gate before he spotted the man sitting on his front stoop reading a newspaper. The paper hid his face, but Thorpe recognized the posture, legs splayed, the same way he had sat when they were crouched in the underbrush, hiding from Lazurus's men. It was the Engineer.

"You coming in, Frank?" the Engineer said from behind the newspaper. The same voice that Thorpe had heard while lying in the plastic surgeon's office, flat and uninflected, not a trace of the European accent from the running track. "If you're going to rabbit, there's no need to sprint. I'm too out of shape to chase you."

Thorpe checked the street, checked the windows of the other apartments. He shut the gate behind him, heard it lock, then crossed toward his front door.

The Engineer folded the paper, stood up, fleshier than Thorpe remembered, his face newly sunburned. He wore dark pants, a short-sleeved dress shirt, and a clip-on necktie. Good camouflage. "I don't know if you're a comics fan," he said, tucking the paper under one arm, "but that Dilbert still cracks me up. Nice to see-"

Thorpe drove the heel of his hand under the Engineer's chin, snapped his head back, and knocked him onto the grass. The newspaper fluttered in the breeze. Thorpe waited, but there was no sign of Gregor, or anyone else the Engineer might have brought along.

The Engineer groaned, tried to sit up, then lay back down again.

Thorpe patted him down for weapons. Nothing.

"You… you still mad about that bit of fun at the safe house?" gasped the Engineer. "I thought we were past that." He rolled over onto his belly, got to his hands and knees. "You going to hit me again? If you are, do it now, so I won't have so far to fall."

Thorpe watched him.

The Engineer got slowly to his feet. He spit, his tongue sliding across his mouth. "You chipped my front tooth." He straightened his necktie. "I got back a few days early and wanted to surprise you. Black's Beach is nice, but you really don't want to see me naked, Frank." He stuck his hand out. "No hard feelings."

"Shut up."

"You think you're the only one with a grudge?" The Engineer pouted. "I'm the wounded party here. You're the one who stepped into my situation with Lazurus. I spent months setting that up, and you and Kimberly trashed it in a few weeks. If anyone is owed an apology-"

Thorpe backhanded him.

The Engineer stayed on his feet, spitting blood now. "Okay… okay. Let's agree to disagree. We can do business. That's all that matters."

"Where's Gregor?"

The Engineer dabbed at his mouth. "That's another sad story. Poor Gregor. I offered him a management opportunity, but, in the end, he just wasn't able to meet my exacting standards. In spite of my efforts, he was just another load of meat."

"How did you find me?"

"Secrets are the basis of any relationship, Frank. You keep yours and I'll keep mine. We should be focusing on the future. I have my contacts and suppliers; you have yours. We don't have to be friends, but it would be a terrible waste not to become partners."

Thorpe had spent months trying to find the Engineer, and now that he had him, he didn't know what to do. He had assumed there would be some sort of confrontation, with Gregor present, and plenty of the ultraviolence. Thorpe had assumed he would kill them both, or die trying, but this… Killing him now would be murder. Turning the Engineer over to the police was tempting. The Engineer's old shop would cover up any crimes he had committed on their watch, but maybe he had gotten careless lately. Perhaps he was wanted, fingerprints and eyewitnesses waiting to put him away. Warren could hack some police databases, see what came up. It wouldn't be as satisfying as killing the son of a bitch, but after the scene with Vlad, Thorpe had had enough of death.

"What are you thinking, Frank?"

"Trying to decide what to do with you."

The Engineer pursed his lips. "You could treasure me for the rare and unique individual that I am."

"That's not one of my options."

The Engineer laughed. "Come on, let's get rich and have some laughs. That's what it's all about, isn't it?"

Thorpe checked the front door to his apartment. The tiny bit of clear wax pressed against the upper jamb was uncracked, undisturbed. He opened the door, grabbed the Engineer by the back of the neck, and pushed him inside. Thorpe stepped in, crouched, the 9-mm sweeping from side to side.

The Engineer looked up from the floor. "You're not very trusting."

Thorpe locked the door behind him and went through the house, the gun cocked. He checked the bathroom, the closets, even looked under the bed. The windows were still locked from the inside, their own wax seals intact. They were alone.

"Can I get up now?" The Engineer fingered his necktie. "Please?"

Thorpe beckoned him.

The Engineer awkwardly got to his feet. "That's… better." He held his hands out, losing his balance.

Thorpe reached for him. It was a reaction, not a thought. As he steadied him, the Engineer snatched off his tie, jammed it under Thorpe's nose. Thorpe heard a faint crackle of breaking glass, and his knees buckled. When Thorpe awoke, he was seated in his leather chair, he had a ringing headache, and he and the Engineer weren't alone.

Gregor squinted at him, over three hundred pounds of ugly, his belly flopping out of the purple jogging suit. The Cyrillic tattoos ringing his thick neck seemed stretched, as though he had swallowed a Great Dane. His face was puffy and scabbed over, his left ear bandaged. "He is awake."

"It's a real mind fuck, isn't it, Frank?" said the Engineer.

Thorpe stared back at Gregor and knew that all the bad thoughts that had come to him while listening to Vlad were true. Arturo hadn't killed Bishop. Arturo had killed more than enough to deserve killing, but he hadn't killed Ray Bishop.

"Hey!" Gregor kicked Thorpe in the shin. "He's talking to you."

"Yeah, it's a real mind fuck." Thorpe was still weak from the anesthetic the Engineer had used on him, so numb that he had barely felt Gregor's kick. The only sensation he had was fear. He had been under fire, had jumped out of planes and crawled through tunnels where the darkness was thick with spiders, but now, sitting in his own living room, it was all Thorpe could do to stop his teeth from chattering. He wasn't afraid of dying. He had long since given up hope of a cozy old age, surrounded by grandchildren. It was losing to the Engineer that he was afraid of. Losing to the Engineer again.

"What is it, Frank?" asked the Engineer. "You look like you have something on your mind."

"I was just wondering what happened to Gregor? Did he try stopping a train with his face?"

"A few bumps and bruises, but I think it adds to his charm."

Thorpe smiled. "Looks like it must have hurt."

The Engineer pulled up another chair. They were almost knee-to-knee now. "Don't bother feeling under the cushion. We found the pistol you stashed. Found the one in the sofa, too. I like the way you plan ahead, the way you try and anticipate the worst. That's very laudable." He leaned closer.

Thorpe looked into the Engineer's eyes and thought of Vlad. Vlad had killed at least as many men as the Engineer, had gathered up lives by the handful, but his blue eyes were dim and dying, the sad eyes of a lost boy. The Engineer's eyes were dark and mature in their evil, full of a grimy eagerness for the work.

"In all your planning, though, did you ever foresee your present situation?" asked the Engineer. "Your hidden weapons found, the boogeyman inside your door, sitting right next to you, in fact, close enough to kiss." He smiled. "I guess what I'm asking, Frank, is did you ever imagine things going this far wrong?"

"So far so good."

"Indeed," said the Engineer. "I haven't hit you, haven't tied you up or restrained you in any way, haven't brutalized you. We're just a couple of men of the world having a talk." He smiled. "Since I quit the shop, things haven't gone as well as I'd hoped. Mistakes and miscalculations were made. I'm not complaining, but your personnel file was like an answer to a prayer. Some very interesting notations in that file, suggestions that you had been less than a loyal employee. Money-laundering takedowns that came up short, warehouses that turned up empty-you had some nice paydays."

Thorpe wiggled his toes, spread the fingers of his hands. Progress. Hope was the only antidote to fear, and he clung to that hope. He was going to get out of this. He was.

"You walked away with a bundle, Frank. I like a man with initiative."

Thorpe's head still throbbed, but he was breathing deeper now. "Ancient history."

The Engineer shook his head. "Not eggs-actly," he said, sounding just like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Gregor chuckled, fists clenching and unclenching.

The Engineer beamed at Thorpe. "I like to amuse Gregor with my imitations: Irish brogue, Eddie Murphy, laid-back surfer, Boston Brahmin, Valley Girl… He's particularly fond of my Bill Clinton: 'Hilly Mae, put down that rollin' pin, darlin'."

"Very fond of Mr. Bill Clinton," agreed Gregor.

"Of course, you're already familiar with my Italian intellectual-"

"Are we going to work out our deal? This shit is boring me."

"Well, we can't have that," said the Engineer, sleepy eyes glittering. He walked over to the desk. Thorpe's laptop was already turned on. "What's your password?"

Thorpe thought about it. "Onyx three two three."

The Engineer tapped in the password, smiled as the operating system opened up. "I'm glad you didn't make me ask you again," he said, ripping through the files. "You'd be surprised how many people think they need to put on a show of resistance. I'm not sure if they're trying to impress me, or ministering to some ego need of their own…" He stared at the screen. "An empty address book? How do you keep in touch?"

"I'm a lousy correspondent."

"What I'm looking for are your business contacts, your connections-buyers and sellers, all the little people you use and abuse. That's what you bring to the table."

"What are you bringing?"

"Always so flippant, so self-controlled." The Engineer whipped the mouse, searching through Thorpe's files. "The only time I heard you lose your cool was after you had left the safe house-you were getting medical attention, if I remember correctly. You sounded scared. I bet you're scared now… probably telling yourself to hang on, stay strong, being a regular cheerleader for the home team." He glanced at Thorpe, then back at the screen. "Three bank accounts. What are the passwords?" He typed as Thorpe told him, clucked with disappointment a few moments later. "There's not nearly enough here to retire on, Frank. At this rate, you're going to be collecting aluminum cans while you lug around your prostate." He turned his head. "Where's the rest of it?"

"I had some miscalculations myself."

"I don't believe you."

Thorpe hesitated, thinking, but not taking too long, just maybe long enough to indicate that he was arguing with himself and that the Engineer had won. "Sorry, other than a storage locker full of cash and bricks of cocaine, I'm flat broke."

The Engineer watched Thorpe, then finally shut the computer down and handed it to Gregor. "I'll examine this at my leisure." He sat down across from Thorpe again. "Where exactly is this storage locker of yours?"

"You working for the IRS now?" Thorpe stretched, used the opportunity to glance out the window. Late evening now, the courtyard empty, the sound of stereos and TVs playing in the distance. He hoped Claire wasn't at home.

The Engineer smiled. "She's not here, if you're interested."

"Who?" Thorpe didn't turn away from the Engineer's smile, but he felt the blow. A light blow, a love tap, but it brought the fear back, worse than before.

"Claire. Lovely woman. A little mature for my tastes, but feisty."

"My neighbor?"

"Oh, more than your neighbor, much more, if my information is correct. Mrs. Kinsley and I had a nice chat this afternoon at the park. She's the one who let me in the gate. Made me some wretched tea while I waited for you. Sweet old lady, but her kitchen needs a good scrubbing. They get old, they lose their sense of smell. I was about to cancel her ticket, when she got a phone call and had to dash. Mrs. Kinsley says you and Claire have the look. You know the look, Frank. Mrs. Kinsley got all warm and fuzzy when she talked about the two of you, said she was eighty-three years old but that she still remembered that look."

"I threw a fuck into Claire once or twice. You want to make something of that, go ahead."

"That's rather unchivalrous of you. I met Claire this morning, showed her your photograph. She said you looked familiar. That's all, familiar. Then she told me you had moved away, moved to Los Alamitos because it had better freeway access. Wasn't that wonderful? It's the details that sell a lie. Having a woman willing to lie for you is one thing, but a woman who lies for you well, oh my, Frank… you truly are a lucky man."

Thorpe shrugged. The Engineer's indolent gaze was eating a hole in him.

"Here's my dilemma," said the Engineer. "I know you can be useful, and I dearly want your goods, but on the other hand, I'm still upset with you for that business with Kimberly. I can be petty and vindictive. I'm working on it, but I want you to be aware of my failings."

"Maybe you can get some kind of therapy."

"I did a seminar for a foreign security agency several years ago." The Engineer tugged at his socks, stood up. "I tried to impress upon them that torture, physical torture, as a means of extracting information is very inefficient. When the information is needed fast, it's even more so. By contrast, my methods never fail. Never, Frank, not once. The head of security listened, but I'm not sure he truly understood."

Thorpe nodded. He had no idea what Claire's teaching schedule was.

"Imagine this scenario. I want your cooperation, but you resist. Now, I can have Gregor start snapping your fingers and toes, but there's a problem with that. At a certain point, when the pain becomes too severe, you pass out." The Engineer paced back and forth. "So all you have to do is tough it out, knowing if I go too far, you're unconscious. Even if you do talk, how can I be sure you're telling me the truth?"

"Why don't you try a nice dinner and a movie?" Thorpe heard the front gate squeak.

The Engineer peeked through the curtains. "Oh goody, Frank. It's your little fuck toy."

Thorpe jumped up, but Gregor punched him in the solar plexus, dropped him hard. Thorpe lay on the floor, twitching. He heard Claire's footsteps on the sidewalk, heard her ring the bell. Heard her call his name.

The Engineer got down on the floor next to Thorpe. "Should I get that?"

"No," Thorpe gasped.

"Lazurus looked at the photos for a long time, then he took the blowtorch and burned them up," whispered the Engineer, mimicking the voice he had used in the park when Thorpe tried to squeeze him. "First he burned the photographs… then… then, he burned the broker." He smiled at Thorpe. "It's the catch in the voice that I was most proud of. That's what made you a believer. Do you remember what you said to me then?"

Claire knocked harder.

"You said, 'That's a sad story, and when this is over, we'll sit down with some herb tea and have a good cry.' That's what you told me."

"Damn it, Frank, open the door," said Claire. "I know you're in there. It's important."

The Engineer's lips brushed Thorpe's ear. "Why don't we invite her in to have some herb tea with us? It's rude not to, don't you think?"

"I'll take you… to the locker."

"Promise? Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Yes." Thorpe listened to Claire's retreating footsteps.

"If you're not telling the truth, we're going to come back for her," said the Engineer, using his own voice again. "I'll make you watch the whole thing. The whole thing, every minute of it. You wouldn't believe what I'm capable of when I put my heart and soul into it, Frank."

Thorpe needed help to get to his feet.