The 56th Man (29 page)

"Where is the money?"

"What money?" the first kayaker said.

Ari kicked him in the stomach and went back
to the second man, who was beginning to recover his breath.

"Where is the money?"

"I..."

"I believe you've already been on the river
for several hours. This is the last stop before the rapids. You
wouldn't risk losing your cargo. I suspect you have a car waiting
for you at the park entrance just a little way down from here. You
will hand your money over to the driver, then. Where is it?"

"You crazy--"

Ari kicked him in the stomach and returned to
the gazebo. He repeated his story of where they had been and where
they were headed. The young man stared at him. Several locks of
hair had dropped down to join the original "C".

"You're not a cop."

"Actually, I am. Or was. Where is the
money?"

"Under Mark's wetsuit," the young man
said.

"Mark is your partner there?"

"Don't be stupid."

"You're right, it was a stupid question." Ari
kicked him again and went back to Mark. Turning him over, he pulled
off the kayaker's headgear and studied the monocular scope. He had
seen many of these and had often wondered what the U.S. Government
shelled out for them. "How much is this worth?"

The young man grunted.

"I said--"

"Around three-hundred."

"Mmmm..." Ari said, putting the goggles next
to his jacket. "Now, is the money under your wetsuit?"

Another grunt. Ari reached down, unzipped the
wetsuit to the waist, and found a money belt. He pulled apart the
Velcro strap and took out a wad of bills.

"Mmmm..." he murmured. He stood back, jammed
the money into his pocket. As he strolled up the lawn to the gazebo
he removed a cigarette from his pack. When he flicked his lighter
the world exploded. Cursing, he whipped off the set of goggles from
his head, temporarily blinded by the magnified flash of the
lighter. The man on the lawn barked a mirthless laugh.

"Very amusing," said Ari, waiting for his
vision to return. He considered kicking the second kayaker again,
then decided against it.

Several minutes passed before he could see
well enough to finish his transit to the gazebo. He sat on the
bench, lit his cigarette, and regarded his first prisoner. Without
the goggles he was little more than a lump in the dark.

"You have a .38 caliber gun in your boat.
That's the same caliber used to kill the Riggins family."

"Oh no," the young man gasped. "No, not
us."

"I'm sure the police will be interested to
check the ballistics on your gun."

"Yeah, and they'll be interested when they
see you've beat the shit out of us."

"A few kicks?" Ari said breezily. "I've
watched men have their eyes burned out with these." He waved the
cigarette in the air, the glowing end like a sharp comet.

"You can kill someone kicking them like
this."

"Sometimes. But I've found that a few good
kicks can be most salubrious," said Ari.

"Where did you learn English?"

"A female cosmonaut taught me." Ari stood and
went down to his second prisoner. "Why did you shoot the Riggins
family? Why did you kill the boys?"

"I didn't..."

"I mean the two of you." Ari crouched easily
beside him.

"Okay,
we
didn't."

Ari looked up and saw the Mackenzie's porch
light was still on. Whether they were sleeping or bar-hopping, it
provided a false note of occupation.

Glancing down, he could just make out Mark's
rapid blinking, as though he was trying to clear water out of his
eyes. Perhaps he wore glasses when he was not prowling the night
like some mutated rodent.

"Let us reconstruct that night," Ari began,
sounding a little too enthusiastic for the prisoner's comfort. He
complained that he did not feel well. "Yes, police brutality is
sickening," Ari nodded. "Now, on the night of the murders, the two
of you rowed up in your boat, dressed just as you are now. Gaining
access to the house was probably easy. You took the Rigginses by
surprise and shot them all. The motive was obviously drug-related,
which usually means money-related. Perhaps you found out that Moria
was re-selling what she bought from you and you didn't like the
competition. Or she had simply failed to pay you and you did what
drug-dealers worldwide do when they collect a debt."

"Wrong, wrong and wrong," the kayaker gasped.
He really wasn't feeling well. It would complicate matters
enormously if he died, but Ari didn't think he had kicked him hard
enough to cause a fatal hemorrhage. Then again, he had misjudged
the damage he had inflicted on the robber at the Chinese
grocery.

"There was jewelry missing," said Ari. "Did
you take that in lieu of payment?"

"Oh god..."

"If you die, I'll eat you. I really enjoyed
those cannibal movies with...I can't recall the actor's name.
They're very good, very realistic. I'm sure you saw them."

The thought that he might end up being
served with
couscous
breathed
new life into the kayaker. His eyes went wide, with scarcely a
blink.

"We didn't kill anyone."

"Then I suppose you keep this out of your
love of humanity. I'm holding up your Smith & Wesson, in case
you can't see."

"It's for protection. You meet all kinds of
loonies in this business." His tone inferred that Ari was living
proof of his assertion.

"If you choose to live dangerously, you must
expect to encounter danger every so often."

"Aw shut up."

"What was that?" Ari asked.

"Nothing."

"I think I'll kick you again and then go up
to your partner and ask the same questions."

"Oh shit, no! No! No--awshit! Oh! Oh!"

Ari went back to the gazebo and sat on the
bench.

"What did he say that made you kick him
again?" the first kayaker asked breathlessly.

"You are wise to ask. His answers were
insufficient and his attitude was insufferable."

"I'll try to do better," the first man said
contritely.

"Excellent. Did either or both of you kill
the Rigginses?"

"No."

"You were out here the night of the murders,
weren't you?" said Ari. "Mark says you killed them because you
wanted to take over the territory. That Moria Riggins was 'Mr.
Big.' She was your source.”

"Mark wouldn't say that because it isn't
true."

"Kick a man enough times and he'll say
anything." Ari leaned back and took a philosophical puff on his
Winston. "Only a few years before I was born there was in my
country a place called Qasr al-Nihayah. This can be translated as
the Palace of the End. It was one of the largest torture chambers
in history. You would say the inmates were political prisoners,
although many were there simply because someone didn't like them.
Well, political prisoners aren't very likable in the first place.
You would know that if you had to deal with them on a regular
basis. They're always up in arms about something or other. If we
put them all in a cage, they would kill each other off. Ideologues,
all of them. Fanatics."

"I thought you said this was all before you
were born," said the kayaker warily, seeking hints for what was to
come.

"There was a coup attempt in the late
Seventies. The chief torturer wanted to take over the government.
It didn't pan out that way and the palace staff--well, it was cut
back drastically, shall we say. I was nine years old when all that
happened. And the palace itself was blown to bits by a Tomahawk in
2003. But these political prisoners...they weren't anything to wet
your tears about."

"Wet your tears?"

"Maybe that's the wrong expression. Well,
they didn't go away. Your government expresses great concern about
creating a new generation of terrorists, but there will always be
these types. Personally, I prefer thugs and murders and...well,
drug dealers like yourself. You have a clear idea of what you're
about. Nothing fancy. They're much more pleasant to deal with. Take
yourselves. I can see you're well-educated, well brought up. You
might even have manners."

"Thank you," said the kayaker.

"See? You even go to the trouble to prove my
point. That's real courtesy. You would have been an unlikely
candidate for the Palace of the End. You'd end up in one of the
common cells, with nothing worse than a few beatings--if you died
it was accidental, at least half the time. The methods of torture
they used at the Palace were unspeakable even to me, and I'm part
Assyrian. We've had five thousand years of practice at this sort of
thing. Once the monarchy was gone, there was a group that believed
nothing like the Palace should ever exist in my country again.
Turned out to be a dream, but not a bad one."

"So which one were you?"

"You mean later? I had no choice. I grew up
under a tyrannical regime. Dreams are the first thing to go."

"What are you going to do to me?" the kayaker
asked, trembling. Such a long speech on Ari's part could not be
leading up to anything good. "To us?"

"I'll let you go, of course," said Ari. "I
don't think you killed the Riggins family. You don't have the
instinct for that sort of thing, or you would have put up a better
fight. But I want you to prove your innocence to me. For example,
did Moria Riggins see your rocket that night and did she come down
to the shore?"

"Yes," the young man said after a long
pause.

"What was she wearing?"

"A robe and slippers."

"You mean a dressing gown?"

"A robe. You know, like you put over your
pajamas."

"That's what I meant." Ari paused to line up
more questions in his mind. "Did you buy from her or did she buy
from you?"

"She bought a lot more than one person could
ever use. She wasn't our supplier."

"Is your supplier waiting for you at the park
entrance?"

The kayaker didn't answer. Ari stood.

"Yes."

Ari sat back down. "Does he have a lot of
money?"

"I don't know."

"When do you usually arrive at his...what
kind of car does he drive?"

"A red Bronco. He'll be expecting us within
the hour. There's no fixed time."

"Do you think he'll come looking for
you?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Do you think he'll come looking for me after
you tell him what's happened?"

"I'm sure of that, too," the young man
answered grimly.

"Excellent. We're doing very well. How long
have you been selling product to Moria?"

"A couple of years."

"Did she always pay you in cash?"

"She paid us with some jewelry last time. We
took the chance, and it turned out not to be fake."

"Do you have a key to this house?"

"No. Why would I?"

"To gain access to murder the family."

"Are you back to that?" the kayaker said, his
voice raising several notches.

"I have to keep it in mind that you two might
be the killers."

"But you said--"

"I might be wrong. You still haven't
convinced me. Did you know Moria was the mother of two boys?"

"Not then. I heard about it after."

"Did she often come down here in her
pajamas?"

"Almost always."

"Did you meet her husband?"

"Near the end...he would stand up on the
porch, watching. I got the feeling he didn't like what was going
on."

"Did Moria speak about it?"

"I asked her if he would cause trouble. She
said he was a dickless wonder. That she could handle him."

"She used those words? 'Dickless
wonder'?"

"She was sort of a bitch, but I've met
worse."

"You allow women to talk to you like
that?"

"You haven't been in America long, have
you?"

"So he never caused any problems?"

"Not until the last night we came."

"What happened?"

"He came down here screaming and raving. He
threatened to shoot us."

"He owned a gun?"

"Well yeah. We sold it to him. Well, to
Moria. She said she felt the need for protection."

"From what?"

"She said from people like us." The young man
laughed harshly.

"What kind of gun?"

"Thirty-eight. Identical to the one you took
out of our kayak, red stock and all."

"Ammunition?"

"You can get that anywhere. Green Top.
Southern Gun."

“
Did Moria buy anything from you that
night, when her husband threatened you?

“
She calmed him down and packed him
back to the house. She asked us to come back in a half hour or so,
after he’d gone to bed.” The kayaker hesitated on top of a
question, then jumped. "You tortured people?"

Ari thought for a moment. "You would say I
did. I would never have advanced in my profession if I wasn't
willing to inflict a little pain."

"Like kicking a man while he's down."

"Nothing wrong with that. The British imposed
artificial boundaries on our land."

"Iraq?"

"They imposed artificial boundaries on many
lands. Once the borders were established and the Europeans left, it
was up to the native government to defend them. The opposition was
violent. The measures we took against it were equally violent."

"But some of you guys enjoy inflicting pain,"
the young man said carefully.

"Some, yes. As for myself, I only did what I
had to do to maintain civil order. I didn't deal with the political
prisoners very often."

"But you beat them."

"Of course." Ari doubted his prisoner
could see his smile. "I didn't make a habit of it. What Americans
don't seem to accept is that government
is
violence, by definition. The imposition of
rule. You package it here in neat paraphrases, the same way you
package your food, so that the original is unrecognizable. But
there's little difference."