Cobra Clearance (23 page)

“You mean the…”

“The other club.” He tilted his head at the desert. “We'll lay down the barrage near their compound. Shake 'em up.”

After a final hit Levi exhaled and said, “That don't sound too bad.”

“No. It don't.” He grunted. “Hell, I could never hurt nobody.” After a pause Brian said, “I heard Kruger talking to Potts.” Brian thrust his arms skyward. “Potts. There's a lunatic for ya. I call him,
Putz
.” He took the half-smoked joint and extinguished it. “I like
smokin' with you. Let's do the rest of this later.” Brian was stone-sober; he'd built quite a tolerance. While putting it in a pocket he changed course again. “Yeah, I heard 'em talking. Jackson's got the Semtex rigged an' ready to go. Guess the deal's on.”

“Damn.” Levi shook his head, then prompted Brian. “All that Semtex.”

Large creases ruffled the Swastika on Brian's forehead. “I guess he wants more bang than I can give with the eighty-one.” He exhaled loudly. “Well, I done told you the house rules. I'm sorry he's gonna turn you into a dog. Well…guess I'll see ya later.”

Levi had to keep his new source. “Listen, I got some first-rate hash. Come by my place tonight. We'll get stoned, an' you can crash on the couch.” When Brian didn't reply, Levi punched his shoulder. “You can meet my woman, too.”

Brian turned and studied Levi. “You got a good girl?”

“She does okay by me. Works at the Sunset. Maybe you know her. Brenda?” Brian perked up and admitted to a crush for her. “Then stop by,” Levi said. “Just 'cause she's my old lady don't mean she can't have no friends. Or no fun.”

The young man wet his lips. “Dunno. I mean, I'd like to but um, the thing is, the others won't take to you if you hang with me.” He abruptly stood and hurried off.

Levi jogged after him, the stiff breeze fanning his hair, and put a restraining hand on Brian's shoulder. “Tonight. The Sunset. You, me an' Brenda.”

Brent Kruger was engrossed in his topographical maps when his cell rang. “Yes?”

“Eric mighta did smack yesterday.”

He sat upright. “Might have? Okay, what led you to that conclusion?”

“Found a new needle mark on him last night.”

“That's it?” Kruger rolled his eyes. “He had blood work done yesterday.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Well he's also screwin' every slut that walks in the bar.”

“He's supposed to.”

“But he don't gotta rub my face in it.”

He cursed silently. “Okay. Give me the details.”

“Details? Hell, last night I had to watch while he banged some college bimbo.”

“Really? He
made
you watch? Hmm.”

“Um, not 'zactly. I
found
him hammering the bitch—in her car.”

“Did you confront him?”

“No, an' he was too busy humpin' her to notice me. But later I saw he'd done some coke. So I asked. He said, ‘yeah, we partied,' then flat-out told me he screwed her. An' now he's bringing her to
my
bed so he can do both of us.”

Kruger uttered a harsh laugh. “My kind of man. And he didn't lie.”

“He's a bastard.”

“Watch it,” he snapped. “He's a man. You are a
woe
-man and infertile at that, so you're next to worthless. And do not get between him and his women, am I clear?” He watched a water bug scurry across the wooden floor, and when it reached a tiny crack he mashed it with his boot. He ended the call and went back to his map. Sure, Eric was a low-life, but a tough low-life. Tough enough to do what Kruger wanted done.

SUSAN SAT ALONE AT A SMALL TABLE
in the hotel's softly lit, minimalist lounge and held a glass of fresh Chardonnay by its stem. She studied the wine's pale color against the noon sun shining
through a window, until the distorted image of her approaching waiter filled the bowl. She ordered a walnut and feta cheese salad, and after he walked off she exhaled loudly. She'd done her best but Levi was nowhere to be found. And yet she couldn't let go. She glanced at the list in her hand once more. She'd checked the yellow pages for every establishment that had dancing, no matter how small the venue, how dismal the name or how far from Albuquerque. There were sixteen left to go.

AMAHL TOOK THE BOARDING PASS
for his Cairo-to-Nairobi flight from the agent and turned to Kalil. He held his son close, then kissed him on the mouth.

Kalil's troubled eyes searched his father's. “What is it?”

Amahl smiled. “Nothing. You have always been my favorite. Why should I not feel sad to leave you?” With that he turned and strode toward the security checkpoint. As he passed a concrete pillar he saw three men standing on the other side. While looking at them he blinked twice and walked on, knowing he had seen his son for the last time.

Kalil knew too much, and the surveillance had been his death sentence. If they knew of this son then it was only a matter of time. Kalil was now a liability, and Amahl had brought him this far only to ensure that he would never be found. The three men would see to that. Amahl had insisted only that they make his death a painless one, and that they treat him with respect as they sealed him in the container of acid.

KRUGER SUMMONED ERIC AGAIN
and leaned back in his chair. “Bronk tells me that a rather vivacious co-ed lured you into bed with a promise of cocaine.”

“What chaps you most, the booty or the blow?”

“Neither. Both.”

“It's like this. Yeah, she had coke. But she also had a egg in the chute, an' my swimmers are all over it by now. An' if one a them don't get in this time? No sweat. She's coming back tonight for more a what I got
available
for rich college babes.”

“Oh? She was that enamored of you, was she?”

“Nail hammered?” Deep lines etched Eric's forehead. His eyes narrowed. “Well I hammered her good. I'm also gonna nail that egg a hers, if that's what you mean.”

“
Enamored.
” Kruger didn't doubt Eric's ability to charm women into having sex. Even he felt drawn to this happy-go-lucky sociopath. Finally he said, “Perhaps you're a bit too cocksure. Well?”

Raising an eyebrow, Eric said, “She hates her mom. Loves slum boys. Do the math. In the end it adds up to this—she wants to piss off her mom by havin' a bad boy's baby.” He stood taller. “An' I aim to plant
my
kid in her.”

“Okay. Good. Now tell me about any
other
drug use since you've been here.”

“I won't lie. Me an' my babe was messin' around a couple a days ago. We ended up doin' some blow.” He looked at Kruger. “I forgot,
okay
?”

“Go on.”

“She's got some junk, too. Good stuff. Not no cheap-ass skag. I figured, won't nobody see no track, so…” He shifted his weight. “So the other night…”

Kruger's eyes became slits. “You used heroin?”

“I wanted to
slam
. Now don't break my cake.”

After a suspicious sideways squint Kruger decided Eric was protecting Brenda for injecting him. That was praiseworthy—he didn't rat people out. Kruger could also use the doping to his advantage. But pointing his finger like a pistol he said, “You did hard drugs despite my specific order not to. However, you manned-up
to it. That means more to me than your perfection. But so we're clear? Do it again, and you're history.”

But Levi stepped closer. “I got a better idea. Let me slam now an' then.”

“Absolutely not. Now get out of here.” Kruger waited until Eric left, then began to think. He admired Eric's attitude. So what if he did a little coke? He maintained a high standard of candor coupled with another laudable trait—defiance, tempered by respect. And Eric wouldn't risk expulsion from the club through insubordination or drugs if he'd had ulterior motives for joining. But he'd arrived so soon after Melchior's assassination. Sure, Brenda and the men sensed his legitimacy, and he was clearly honoring his pledge to produce white babies with multiple women. Still, Kruger hadn't felt at ease until being told, “In your dreams,” and by seeing that Eric's behavior and cravings were consistent with bonafide dopers. Now he could proceed with his plans.

That evening Levi waited in a shadowed portion of the Sunset's rear lot. When Michael materialized at his elbow, Levi reported Brian's revelations as to the month of May, mortars and Semtex. He added that Brenda had reported his drug use and hook-up with Monica, then said that being a sexually explicit druggie in Kruger's upside down world was apparently a virtue. “But I could've recanted the heroin use if I'd had to.”

Michael briefed him on Dentz, then studied his face. “You're exhausted.”

“I'm on top of it.” At Michael's skeptical look he frowned. “I said, I'm alright.”

“Okay, as long as you know.” He blended with a shadow and disappeared.

Levi poked his head inside the cabin a minute later and told Brenda he'd be next door, then went to the malodorous bar to
wait for Brian. Walking inside, he spotted two skinheads at the pool table. After they raised their cue sticks in recognition, he dropped onto a torn bar stool. He was nursing a beer when a lithe, raven-haired girl in a homeless-chic ensemble of torn designer jeans and frayed T entered.

She went directly to Levi and offered a lazily seductive glance. “Seen ya dance.”

He thought she was a real turn-on, and after feeding the jukebox he began dancing soberly. But on seeing the skinheads watching, he nurtured his lout's image by grinding against her. When she gave it right back he cupped her ass in his hands. She in turn slid her hands down the back of his pants, and they were steadily grinding away when Brenda appeared. Levi waved to her; she glared and stomped out.

They danced on as rivulets of perspiration streamed down their bodies. He undid his shirt and let it fly, then opened the top buttons of her jeans. The skinheads laughed; the girl winked and molded her sweat-drenched body to his. Planting a perfumed cheek against his slick neck, she unzipped him and reached inside, and after making a thorough exploration she got a sly smile and said, “Let's go to my car.”

“Can't,” he shot back, adding in case she was a plant, “my old lady's around.” He stepped back only to find the zipper stuck so he ambled off to the grimy, urine-smelling men's room. He was in there fussing with his fly when the door opened and she walked in. He scowled. “I done said not tonight—an' not in this rat hole.”

She sneered. “I get it. You want some head first. Okay.” She moved closer.

“No, not here.” He figured that would sustain his cover. But to scare her away in case she was legit, he cupped her ample breasts through her wet T and said, “Drop by tomorrow. Maybe I'll fuck you then.” Leaning into her, he lowered his voice. “But if I do, I'm
gonna make you my bitch. An' you're gonna turn tricks to support me. You an' my other bitches.” However, he was taken aback when she brushed some errant hair from her eyes and said she'd do anything, so long as he supplied her with coke.

Brenda paced the tiny cabin, kicking at stray clothing until her hands became fists. When she'd had enough she stormed into the bar just as Eric and the girl emerged from the men's room. Both shimmered from perspiration. Her jeans were undone; so were his shirt and fly. The girl went to the bar; Eric went to Brenda. But while planting her feet wide to confront him, a young man appeared at his side. Eric still reeked of the girl as he introduced Brian, and after a strained silence they went to the cabin.

Once inside, Brian took off his shirt but Eric kept his on. She didn't think it was to conceal his needle marks, either.
The bastard's hiding scratches on his back
. But she thawed as they passed around a hash pipe, sending pungent yellow-gray smoke to the ceiling. She'd seen Brian around; the silly Swastika aside, he was beautiful and the dog collar had a certain sex appeal. She also loved his tatts and piercings, and yearned to hook a finger through that huge ring in his nose. But above all else he exuded a pleasant spiritual quality that endeared him to her, and she felt a thrill each time she found him looking at her.

The men shared another bowl of hash. Brian held his own. But Eric's speech became slurred, and he flung his arms wide each time he stressed a point. When they turned quiet Brian tapped one of Eric's concealed arms. “What're you hiding?”

Eric tried to focus glassy eyes. Finally he said, “Dunno what you mean, man.”

That's when Brenda saw her revenge: through dope. Eric was already nodding off, so she yawned also and tossed a blanket at Brian. He executed a casual catch, but as he stripped, her jaw
dropped. “Whoa…nice package.” Brian clearly had no shame in being naked—a trait he shared with Eric. He wagged his eyebrows, then lay on the couch. Meanwhile, Eric got undressed and went to the bed. Brenda didn't see any scratches on his back, but he still stank of his dalliance and her anger flared.

She killed all the lights except the dim bedside lamp and lay next to him. When the moment was right she pulled on a robe, crept past their snoring guest, and cooked some heroin over the stove's blue flame. It was low-grade stuff and created a burnt band-aid odor, but it would do. After drawing ten milligrams into a syringe, she raised a vein inside Eric's elbow and had the needle against it when she glanced up. He was awake and watching. She stopped breathing—then noted his vacant expression. As her lips smiled with cruel confidence, she deftly slid the needle in and got a finger on the plunger.

“Wait,” he whispered. “Not yet.” Then he jutted his jaw at the couch.

Swiveling her head, she saw Brian staring back, his face a blank slate.

Several seconds passed before Brian exhaled noisily. “Do what ya gotta do. I ain't gonna narc you out.” Pulling up the blanket, he rolled onto his other side.