Joe Pitt 2 - No Dominion (22 page)

--Say what?

--Her plan. She's, you know, doing
her
own thing
completely separate
from our gig. Mind you, man, there was a time, not too long ago, there was a time she
would have been onto us from the start. But she's gotten too narrow-minded, too focused on
that whole racism thing. How's that supposed to work? How's that not like willfully
blinding yourself to the big picture? She just doesn't see the whole anymore. Anyway, what
she thinks is, she
thinks
she's letting you go to come down here to rock
my
boat.

--
Letting me go?
Lady got a stomach full of bullets.

--Uh-huh, I hear you.

--I pumped her full of anathema.

--Yeah.

--Terry, I bit her fucking eye out.

--Sure, sure, I know.

--She did not
let me go.

--Well, you know, like I said, it's
complicated.
And you shouldn't feel bad about the way you handled yourself, but, yeah, she let you go.

--Bull.

--Let's just agree on that one for now, man. The real point is that she's so blinded by her
narrow mindedness, she can't see that letting you go is not gonna rock my
boat,
it's gonna rock her
whole world.
'Cause she just handed you the evidence Digga'll use to take care of Papa. Now, did she
know Papa's man would be lame enough to shoot and nod off in her basement? No. But that's
just a bonus to the fact that you have witnessed the whole scene up there.
Digga
is all set up now to confront
Predo
about the anathema in a public forum. And once public pressure is on
Predo
to deal with this, with the reemergence of anathema on his watch, he can publicly
reprimand
Vandewater
and strip her of some of her powers. Curb her independence and install some of his own
people up in the Morningside Settlement. And that leaves the Society's needs. Digga puts
you on a train. Truth is, he wanted you up there a little longer to corroborate some of
the details of what was going down. You wanting to roll so soon threw things a little, but
we got it back on track. Predo cleared the rails. I held Tom off until you could confront
The Count. The Count played his scene for you. And I sent Hurley along with Tom to make
sure you both ended up back here in one piece. After that, it's just a matter of The Count
doing his thing and waiting for you to chime in with the truth. Or, you know, the truth as
you know it to be. Which is kinda, when you get right down to it, all the truth ever is
anyway.

He lifts his hands from the table and drops them back down.

--And that's how things work sometimes. Not always. Just sometimes. Believe me, you don't
want to be trying to keep all those balls in the air too often. But sometimes the stars
align. And sometimes, this picture we're trying to put together, this image of the
infected in the world, sometimes it takes a different kind of cooperation than most people
want to know about. It's not that people don't believe in what they say they believe in,
it's just that sometimes you need to bend so you don't break. The weather isn't always
what you want it to be, Joe. Sometimes, got to make it yourself. Got to make the rain to
get the crops to grow. That's just pragmatic.

I think about Tom, the true believer, his final legacy being that he was a spy.

--That it is.

I look around the room.

--And Lydia?

He shakes his head.

--No way, man. Lydia is pure. She, you just know she could never take this kind of scene.
Moral absolutes, that's her thing. It's right or it's wrong. No, Lydia played her part,
but she didn't know she was.

--Where is she now?

--She's out rallying her people. They're, you know, pretty neutral as far as intra-Clan
issues go. We thought it'd be a good idea if they kind of helped get the word out. Make
sure, I don't know, that the message being heard is the right one. That kind of thing.

--And what's the message?

He raises his shoulders, lets them drop.

--Well, you know, man, you were here. We're not really trying to hide anything.

--What's the message, Terry?

--The message is,
Everything's cool. There was some trouble, but now it's all cool.

--What kind of trouble?

--Well, we thought it best to leave out all the Coalition stuff. That kind of thing's just
gonna stir up bad feelings. So, you know,
attempted coup.
Not pretty, but an internal matter. No hard feelings to anyone or anything. Something
that happens in any revolutionary movement.

--Sure, sure, just the price of doing business.

--The price of politics, anyway.

I fit a cigarette to the corner of my mouth.

--Yeah, politics. Politically speaking, you came out of this in pretty good shape.

--Well, I don't know if I'd say that. Narrowly averting a coup. Discovering a Coalition
plot at the heart of our Clan. Losing one of our highest placed members. I don't know that
that adds up to a good day for the Society and all.

I light up.

--Yeah, taken that way, I guess maybe not. However.

I look for a place to drop the spent match, settle on the floor.

--Taken the other way, it worked out pretty well.

Terry bends and picks up the match.

--What way is that, Joe?

--The way where the truth is involved.

He walks to the sink and drops the match.

--Well, it's a realpolitik world. The truth doesn't always
will out,
you know.

He goes to the fridge.

--Tell me, Terry.

He opens the fridge, back to me, lips zipped.

--Was this the way you had it figured from the top? I mean, when I came wandering in here
looking for a gig and you sent me looking for the anathema, was this the way you had it in
mind?

He looks at me over his shoulder.

--You need some?

I flex my hands, the dry white skin over my knuckles cracks.

--I'm not thirsty right now.

He sighs.

--You're a better man than I.

He comes back to the table, a pint of blood in his hand.

--Me, I need a drink.

He takes a penknife from his pocket and pokes a hole in the bag.

--I need it something fierce.

He takes a drink.

I blow smoke.

He points at it.

--That's not a habit you should be getting into, smoking in here. It's special
circumstances tonight, but in general, not the way we do it.

I keep smoking.

He nods.

--Joe, it did get a little more complicated than I thought it might. I mean, you heard the
story. I'm, you know, still waiting for a loose end to come around and get me.

He drinks. A little shudder runs down his body.

--Never get used to it, you know? Never. No matter how long it's been, no matter how many
times I've felt it, I've never gotten used to how good it goes down. How many other things
are like that? How many things in life that you just don't get tired of?

--You tell me.

He takes another drink.

--Not too many, man, not too many at all.

He drains the rest of the bag, folds it neatly, sets it on the table in front of him.

--So. How I had it figured, what I knew I could count on?

He looks at me.

--How I had it figured was you'd dig around. Being you, you'd, you know, keep digging. Dig
and dig and dig until you hit something that stopped you, and then you'd try to dig
through it. Knowing that, well, I, you know, guessed it'd be just a matter of time before
you dug up Tom.

I smoke.

--Yeah, I get that. A matter of time seeing the way you guys had things all set up, anyway.
Pretty fucked up, Terry. All the way around.

--You know what, Joe? You got that right.

He scratches the side of his nose.

--Know what else is fucked up?

--What's that?

--Think about it.

--About?

He taps his forehead.

--Think for a second. It won't take long.

I think. I think about the story he just told me. And I get it.

I have my gun. Terry gave it back before I went out with Hurley. I've used it since then.
I reach for it.

I hear a noise. Terry shakes his head. His hand under the table, holding the sawed-off
double-barrel that's taped there. The one I've just heard him cock.

--Easy, Joe.

I take my hand off my gun.

He nods.

--Cool, man. That's it. Let me show you something.

He brings up his hands. Brings them up empty.

--Nobody here, man. Just me and you. You want to hold your piece on me while we talk, go
ahead.

I do want to hold my piece on him. So I pull it and point it.

He smiles.

--Well, shit, what did I expect, right? Offer a guy like you a chance to invest in some
mutual trust, I get what I deserve, right?

--What the fuck, Terry? What the fuck with telling me that story? That's like a goddamn
death sentence.

He runs a hand over the top of his head.

--Just trying to get your attention, Joe.

--Trying to get my? Fuck that. You're trying to. I don't know what you're trying to do, but
it's fucked up whatever it is.

--Well, that is one possible interpretation of events.

--Fuck you. I'm a Rogue. I can't get away with knowing that shit.

--Yes, you are. You are a Rogue.

He puts his glasses back on.

--Then again, what if things were, you know, different?

I start to smell it now. He sees me smelling it.

--No.

--Just hear me out. Just, you know, give this a listen.

--No.

--Joe.

He leans forward.

--You have the gun, but you're in my place. Hear me out.

Shit.

I put the gun away. For as much good as it will do me now.

He rubs his hands together.

--OK. OK. That's cool. Now we can really rap, really get into it. OK. So, you've been
asking some interesting questions here. Some deep stuff. Stuff that gets right down there
in the roots, down where you don't go swinging away, hacking things to bits. Cut the wrong
bit, the whole tree dies. Thing is, being around as long as you have, you've ended up
mixed up in some pretty serious stuff the last couple years. Gotten some pretty deep
knowledge on your own. That's what happens. You last long enough, you're going to get
sucked into some stuff. Period. Can't get around that. There are only so many of us. Only
so many who have some staying power. Sooner or later, you're going to get involved. Just,
for just a second, just think about who you met the last couple days. Think about the
people you met last year. Think about the kind of juice those people squeeze. Think about,
about the things you know now, about how stuff works, the things you didn't know last
year. Seriously, think.

He shuts up and watches me.

And I think.

I think about it. And it scares me.

He nods.

--Right? Got it? See what I mean? Hey, man, not everybody spends their time rapping with DJ
Grave Digga and Dexter Predo and me and old lady Vandewater. And let's not even talk about
how you have something going with Daniel. Any idea how many people get a repeat audience
with him? How many survive the first one? That is, you know, a very short list. You're,
whether you like it or not, and for lack of a better word, you're becoming a player.

He raises a finger.

--And check this out. For every little detail you've picked up, there's a whole mosaic
attached to it. You just can't see it yet. Keep going, you're gonna see more. But, you
being a Rogue and all, not everyone is going to be happy about your growing understanding
of, you know, how we do things. A Rogue has no loyalty. You don't know where he's going to
go, which way he'll jump. That puts people, I don't know, on edge. Joe, I'm not gonna lie,
it harshes my mellow, too. A good mellow is hard to come by. Security, can't pay enough to
have it. And, well, that's kind of it. If your knowing things, combined with your being a
Rogue, if that unsettles people? Sooner or later someone's going to deal with that. Screw
the metaphors, someone's going to put you in the sun. Like Tom. And for the same reason:
because he was harshing everybody's mellow.

He leans back.

--Which is why I can sit here and offer you a job I know you don't want.

--I said, no.

--Joe, man, it doesn't have to be like the old days. I mean, today, yeah, man, that was bad
karma all the way around. But it's not really like it used to be. Mostly, it's just
showing yourself in the neighborhood. Keeping an eye on things. Pretty much the kind of
stuff you do on your own. And, you know, if someone does get out of line, sure, that would
be down to you. But you make the call. With this job, you have the license to, well let's
just say it like it is, you have a license to fuck people up. You employ it as you see
fit. Straight up. Tom sucked at the job. You, you're a natural. We both know that.

I pick up my gun. Put it back in my belt.

--No.

I stand up.

He stands up.

--Joe, come on, I know you, man. You like to know what's up. You got to pick a scab, man.
Well this job puts you on the inside, where things happen.

I turn to the door.

--No.

Like that, he's in front of me.

--Please, man. I'm telling you, it's not, like, a threat or anything, but I'm telling you,
it can't go on like it has. Not now. Me, I can play it as loose as you. I dig that. But
Digga? Predo? They won't have it. Not like this. You have to come back inside, Joe. It's
down to that. In or out.

I think about trying to go through him. I think about going out like that, taking the head
of a Clan with me. My old buddy.

I pull another smoke from my pack and light it with a match.

I think about the gutted lighter I abandoned at Vandewater's. Have to get a new one. They
take weeks to break in, to get the action on the hinge loosened up so it will pop open
with a snap of your fingers. The old one was just right.

I smoke.

Terry stands there, watches me. I watch him back. He's in no hurry. There's a clock built
into the face of the stove. I look at it. It's getting late.

I think about last year. How close I came to dying. Dying ugly. I think about the last
forty-eight hours. How close. I think about how it's hard enough day by day without this
kind of crazy shit blowing up in your face. I think about that lousy fucking job.
Security.
What that job was like when I had it before.

The whip in my hand.

I think about the part of me that likes the way it feels. The part my father and mother
cut into me.

Terry, waiting.

Shit.

--No.

He sags, nods his head.

--I did my best.

He steps aside.

I go for the door.

--Joe.

I stop.

--You want to buy a little extra goodwill down here, you can do me a favor.

I turn my head.

--What's that?

He goes to the fridge, comes out with the bag of anathema.

--Drop something off for me.

It's not an errand I'm looking forward to. But I'll be needing every last scrap of
goodwill Terry's willing to dole out. Every scrap while I figure where to run to.

Also, I have a couple questions left. Terry left some gaps around this part. The part
where everything connects.

And he was right, I do like to pick a scab.

One of the girls answers my buzz. She doesn't want to let me in, but he tells her to do
it. I take the stairs. Poncho is there at the door, holding it open. She stands aside to
let me in, giving me a nasty look as I go by.

He's on the couch, Pigtails on one side, PJs on the other, taking turns bathing his face
with a damp cloth. Ignoring the fact that everything that's gonna heal has healed.

Poncho walks past me. She goes around the couch and stands behind him, hands on his
shoulders.

He gives me a little finger wave.

--Hey.

I nod.

--Hey.

He tilts his head.

--So we cool?

--Yeah. We're cool.

--Cool. Cool. Have a seat, man. Ladies, don't be rude. Offer the man something.

Pigtails sniffs.

--I offered last time. He didn't want it. And then he was mean to you.

She hops off the couch and flounces over to me, bends low from the waist.

--But that doesn't mean I won't offer again.

I hold up my hand.

--Maybe just a beer for now.

She straightens up, puts one hand on her hip and points a finger at me.

--You are no fun.

She turns her back, looks at me over her shoulder.

--But I'll get you a beer anyway.

She skips to the fridge.

PJs has put her head in The Count's lap. He strokes her hair.

--Sure you don't want something stronger, man?

He points to the fridge. Pigtails is standing in the kitchen, fanning her hand in front of
the open fridge, displaying the contents like a model on a game show. Blood. Lots of it.

--Just the beer for now.

He shrugs.

--Whatever you want, man.

Pigtails skips back over with the beer and an opener. She pops the top, takes a sip, and
hands me the bottle.

--Yum.

She points at my lap.

--Mind if I sit?

The Count snaps his fingers.

--Come here, love. That man isn't playful.

She giggles and goes to him.

--I knoooow. I'm just teasing. I like to tease.

She takes her place next to him and puts her head next to PJs'.

--And be teased.

He pats her cheek.

--Naughty.

I point at his nose.

--You might want to straighten that out before the cartilage knits. It'll stay crooked if
you don't.

He touches it with his index finger.

--I thought I'd leave it as is. The girls like it.

--Sorry about the teeth. Those won't grow back.

He smiles, shows me the gaps.

--Well, it wasn't fun getting this way, but I'm gonna make the most of it. Thought I'd get
some gold caps. Do the gangsta thing. Work on my street cred.

He flexes his shoulders, arms akimbo, hands flashing in front of his chest hip hop style.
He laughs.

--Anyway, it's no big. I had a role to play. I played it. Gotta admit, I played it all the
way.

I nod.

--Yep.

--Terry fill you in on the whole thing?

--Most of it. He said there were some details I could get from you.

--Cool. That's cool. So, where do you want to?

--Vandewater?

--OK. So, this is pretty fucked-up shit, funny fucked up. You're gonna love some of this.
OK.

Poncho has been rolling him a smoke, she puts it between her lips, lights it, moves it to
his. He takes a drag and she removes it, his hands occupied with petting the girls' heads
in his lap.

--So, do you know what she does up there?

--Besides make anathema and spin fucked-up plots to stir up shit that will get us all
killed? No.

--She makes enforcers. Really, man. That's what she's there for. Predo sends them to her.
Sends her the raw recruits, and she sends back little order-following assassin robots.
She's the chief programmer. She's been doing it forever.

--You mean that literally?

He shakes his head.

--Well, no, man. But a long damn time.

--Uh-huh. And you?

He grins.

--Me. Well, that
was me.
Funny as it sounds, man, I'm an enforcer. Anyway, I was supposed to be. She, like,
handpicked me. I mean, I was really up there, pre-med and all, and she has these scouts,
kids on campus, recruiters like? Mostly they're looking for kids they can snatch, for the,
you know, for the stuff?

--The anathema.

--Yeah, man. Like, raw material for the anathema. But sometimes, if they spot someone
promising, they may try to recruit them. Nothing too obvious, right? No,
Hey, man, what do you think of vampires?
But she's got a profile she looks for, something she's put together. Traits she thinks
you need to have. If you have them, and if you're vulnerable to a snatch, she has you
snatched. Has you infected. Or, tries to anyway. Sometimes it just don't take. You know.

--But it took with you.

--Oh, man, did it ever. All of it. I don't know what it is she looks for, but I have it. I
took to this shit. The life. I know that bugs you, like the way you went all
Raging Bull
on my head, I know you don't want to hear that kind of thing, but it's the truth. I just
plain took to it. And, I got to admit, I like it. I like the way it makes me feel. And,
sure, I got it easier than most. The money, that makes a difference. And that shit I told
you about mom and dad cutting me off? That was bull. Mom and dad divorced years ago. From
each other and from me. All they want is not to know I exist. It might remind them of how
old they really are. My trust fund ain't going anywhere anytime, not unless people stop
buying gas. I'm set. So, yeah, I'm spoiled fucking rotten. And I love it, by the way.

Poncho feeds him another drag.

--So I had whatever kind of crazy she was looking for. Not for, like, the standard enforcer
thing, but for this special gig she had cooked up. This infiltration.

He moves his hands like cat's paws.

--A lone
agento secreto
in the heart of the Society, carrying out a plot to subvert the youth of the Clan. Cool,
huh? I mean, who wouldn't love a gig like that?

I light a cigarette of my own.

--So what went wrong?

He takes a drag, blows a ring.

--What went wrong is I likes to party! I likes to have a good time. And one thing the
enforcers do not get to do is have a good time. Also, according to Vandewater, I happen to
be the most amoral kid you're likely to ever run across. Besides being, you know, a
spoiled little shit. When I was down here, it was, like, the bomb. Secret agent on his
own.