Thick as Thieves

35

Carr walks into the suite, and Latin Mike and Bobby look at him like children at a Christmas tree. Bobby’s face is red and peeling. “Did he take it?”

Carr closes the door behind Bessemer and nods. “He took everything. When I left, the jump drive was sitting on his desk, right next to his computer.”

Latin Mike sighs. Bobby smiles and puts out a fist. Mike taps it lightly. “So now we wait,” Bobby says.

“We’ll know as soon as it’s plugged into anything with an Internet connection,” Carr says.

“When what gets plugged in?” Bessemer asks from behind the bar.

“Gotta be the next day or two,” Mike says, ignoring him. “He’s got that party next weekend, and afterward he’s on his road trip.”

“Prager invited us to the party,” Carr says. “I want to be far away by then.”

“What’s supposed to get plugged in?” Bessemer asks again.

“I gave Prager some information on a jump drive-information about my business, and some of my colleagues abroad. It should give him a better idea of what I’ve got to offer.” Which only seems to make Bessemer more nervous. Bobby and Mike exchange looks, and Carr smiles thinly.

“Why don’t you sit in the sun a while, Howie,” he says. Bessemer shrugs and carries his gin and tonic to the terrace.

Bobby shakes his head. “Seriously-how long will that shit hold up?”

“Not long,” Carr says. “The names are real, and they’re really diamond dealers, all over the world, all active in the gray market. But only one of them-a guy in Singapore-knows the name Greg Frye, and that’s because he’s been paid to know it. I told Prager that the Singapore guy’s the only one with approval to talk about my business. I told him if he likes what he hears, I’ll okay the others to talk too.”

“And this Singapore guy-what’s he gonna say?”

“Something plausible. Given what Boyce is charging us, it better be. With a little luck, though, Howie will have done his thing and we’ll be gone before it’s an issue.”

Latin Mike looks out at Bessemer, and then looks at Carr. “How did he do today?”

“He was fine,” Carr says. “Kept it together, didn’t speak unless he was spoken to, focused mainly on the food.”

“And you think he’ll keep on keepin’ on?”

Carr nods. “He has only one more thing to do, once Dennis tells us the drive’s been plugged in.”

“So I guess it doesn’t matter that he’s asking a lot of questions,” Mike says, nodding. “ ’Cause pretty soon it won’t matter how much he knows.”

“He’s my problem, and I’ll take care of him.”

“He’s everybody’s problem if you don’t, jefe. ”

“I said I’d take care of him.”

Mike looks at him, and doesn’t look away when Bobby clears his throat. Bobby puts a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Once that thing’s plugged in, we zip up and get out, amigo, so we better start packing.”

Bobby and Mike depart, and Carr collapses into an armchair. The two of them seemed to take up more than their usual share of space and oxygen, and Carr is relieved to be alone. His breath leaves him in a long sigh, and the tensions of the day-Prager’s relentless skepticism, Rink’s barely veiled hostility, the constant fear of a wrong word from Bessemer, the constant feel of cameras on him, like a finger tapping incessantly on his skull, and all the pumping adrenaline-hit at once. His shoulders cramp, his legs tighten, and the sweat that stayed away, even through the day’s heat, rises suddenly through his shirt. A bitter taste washes through his mouth. His stomach twists, and for an instant he feels his lunch coming up. And then his cell burrs.

“You’re answering the phone,” Tina says. “That’s a good sign.”

“I’ve got all my fingers and toes too, at least so far.”

“Prager was interested?”

“We’ll see just how much.”

“No word from Dennis yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s taking so long?”

“Prager’s a busy guy. I assume he’s got some other things to do before he gets around to researching me.”

“You’ll call when you hear?”

“I’ll call.”

To stay in the chair is to sleep, Carr knows, so he hoists himself up and goes to the bar. He fills a glass with crushed ice, club soda, and limes, and looks at Bessemer on the terrace. He’s numb in a lounge chair, his head to one side, a leg dangling-a puppet without strings. His round face is empty, and Carr thinks again of Bessemer’s son, Simon-his watchful eyes, his suspicion. Bessemer’s glass is balanced precariously on his belly, in the grip of limp fingers. Carr opens the terrace door and retrieves it. Bessemer mutters something he can’t make out.

Carr showers and changes his clothes, and when he steps into the living room again, he finds the daylight fading and Bessemer sprawled on the sofa. His shoes are off, and his shirt is untucked, but he’s out just as cold. Carr shakes his head and picks up the room service menu.

He’s just about made his choices when his phone rings again. Carr crosses the room at a run.

“You don’t call?” Valerie says. “I’ve got to depend on Mike to let me know? What’s the matter, you tired of me?”

He sighs. “I figured you’d call me.”

“I guess you figured right. It went well?”

“So far so good, but he hasn’t done anything with the drive yet, and that’s what matters. Chun is back from New York?”

“Yeah, and she has no trips planned for a couple of weeks.”

“And her security?”

“Nothing new since last time,” Valerie says. “You going to let me know when you hear something, or am I going to have to keep chasing you?”

“I’ll let you know.”

There’s a long pause, filled by the soft hiss of the ether, and then Valerie sighs. “It’s just around the corner now. You come to any decisions about what you’re going to do with yourself afterward?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Carr looks at Bessemer and can’t imagine him going anyplace, and decides against room service. He has a light dinner in one of the hotel restaurants, and afterward he kicks off his shoes and rolls his pant legs and walks along the shore. The beach is empty but for a few couples, strolling arm in arm, and Carr gives them a wide berth. The sea breeze has turned cold, but a tropical lassitude still trails him across the sand.

Too long on the roller coaster, Declan called it. “Yer jacked up so long, you get used to it-used to the fright and paranoia, and then you get stupid. You know you’re supposed to stay scared, to stay alert, but you can’t seem to care enough to make it happen. Too tired and bored to save yer own goddamn life. And it always comes at the worst feckin’ time-right at the end, when you need to be on top of the game.”

Right at the end -it’s where Carr is at last: Dennis says the word, Howie makes his call, and then it’s Valerie’s turn, a matter of little more than typing. And then… what? A flight north, to watch his father disintegrate? A flight south, to watch Tina’s men sift ashes? A flight into the sunset with Valerie? One too many options to settle by the toss of a coin, and Carr wonders if it really matters which he picks. Too tired and bored to save yer own goddamn life. Too tired, certainly. He thinks about Bessemer, in a heap on the sofa, and of Latin Mike’s admonition: He’s everybody’s problem if you don’t… His throat tightens and a clammy sweat breaks out across his forehead.

The incoming tide is lapping around his ankles when his phone goes off, and he answers without looking at the number.

“Dennis?”

“Who’s Dennis?” Arthur Carr asks, and Carr can tell right away that his father’s been drinking.

“Someone I work with. Is everything okay?”

“I’ll call some other time, if you’re working.”

“It’s fine. Are you all right?”

“All right?” Arthur Carr snorts. “You know she’s leaving, don’t you?”

“Who’s leaving?”

“Eleanor Calvin-who else would I be talking about?”

“She told you she was moving away?”

“The question is, Why didn’t you tell me? She said you’ve known for weeks. Is this privileged information? Maybe you think I’m a security risk.”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I’d made new arrangements.”

“ New arrangements -what the hell do I need those for? I didn’t like the old arrangements you made, and now that she’s walking out, I don’t need any goddamn new ones. The hell with that disloyal bitch.”

“Is she there?”

“What if she is?”

“Put her on the phone.”

His father’s laugh is jagged. “Well, she’s not here. She walked out on me. Said I could fix my own dinner if I didn’t like her cooking, and that if I was going to curse-”

“What did you say to her?”

“I had no idea her sensibilities were so-”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing much, and I can’t imagine she hasn’t heard the word whore before.”

“For chrissakes!” Carr says, and he realizes he’s shouting, and that the few people on the beach are staring.

Arthur Carr laughs again. “In fact, I’m sure she’s heard worse.”

Carr sighs and walks toward the jetty that marks the edge of the hotel property. “You can’t talk to her that way, Dad,” Carr says softly. “You can’t expect her to put up with it.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve put up with?”

“You can’t talk to people that way.”

“ People? She’s not people-she’s my goddamn wife, and I’ll talk to her any goddamn way I please.”

The breath catches in Carr’s throat, and there’s a rushing noise in his ears. When he speaks, his voice is soft and even. “We’re talking about Mrs. Calvin, Dad.”

There’s angry silence on the other end, and then an embarrassed cough. “What the hell are you saying? I know who we’re talking about.”

A wave catches Carr as he reaches the jetty, lifting him and banging his knees on a rock. The sound of surf against stone drowns out the sound of his father’s hasty good-bye.

“Fuck,” Carr says aloud.

When his phone rings again, he thinks it’s his father calling back, but it’s not.

“Jesus, Dennis, I’ve heard from everybody but you today,” Carr says, leaning against a rock. “Please give me some good news.”

“I would if I could.”

“The fucking thing’s still not plugged in?”

When he answers, Dennis’s voice is thin and tired. “I got the message ten minutes ago. It’s plugged in all right, just not into Prager’s computer.”