The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari (7 page)

“What? We’re not going to talk about the furniture again, are we?”

“No, we’re not. But there is something I want to talk to you about. Uncle John, you need to update your style.” Kim raised a hand to quell any protests, but John was too surprised to complain. “You’re still wearing your military haircut, still wearing suits that look to my eye about twenty years out of date. I mean, a single-breasted navy blue with three buttons? Please, stop torturing me. You need a makeover, and you needed it, like, yesterday.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re out now. You have to maintain a certain style, up your cool factor just a bit. You have an image to maintain now you’re out of the closet.”

“Why?”

“Because people will judge you by your clothes. For God’s sake, nobody would believe you’re related to
me
! This is my rep too, Uncle John. You’re about to go back to DC, and you need to stroll in with some killer style, not like some lonely, bored, miserable retired general who’s mooning around, thinking about the glory days. DC has seen plenty of those. You want to blast in there and have the town talking about you.”

“I think that ship already sailed, Kim.”

“Talking about you in a good way. Look, you’re a winter. You shouldn’t be playing about with all these muddy blues.” Kim was flipping through his ties.

“What are you talking about? It’s the middle of summer.”

That got him a pitiful look. Kim stood up and crossed his arms. “What I am talking about is gunmetal gray with teal accents, made by Emporio Armani. What the army cares about is the work. But you’re about to jump into a new shark tank, Uncle John, and in this shark tank they care about money. I will not have those dickhead bluebloods look down on you because of your clothes. We’re going shopping tonight, after supper.”

John’s mind was flipping frantically through any reasonable excuse. “But what about Abdullah? He just got here.”

“He’s not going anywhere. I know more about this than you.” Kim’s face softened, and he looked at John kindly, a doting smile on his face. “I know more about this than you, and I’m not going to argue anymore. We’re going to buy a new suit, along with two shirts and ties, and one leisure outfit. I repeat, I will not argue with you. I know there is available credit on your Navy Federal Visa. You paid off the furniture already. If you argue with me,” he said, holding up a hand to stop John, “I am going to start going to the plasma bank and I will sell blood until I have paid back every cent I spent on the couch.” John had no doubt, looking at the angle of his jaw, that Kim meant every word.

What the hell was a leisure outfit?
John looked down at himself, jeans and a faded chambray shirt. Kim closed his eyes as if he were in pain.

“These are weapons, Uncle John.” Kim was speaking as if John were a little slow. “This is a new war, and these are your weapons.”

G
ABRIEL
sent him an e-mail about ten, said,
Pack the Matrix-ninja killer suit.
John knew which suit Gabriel meant, a stark black Italian wool crepe that Kim approved of. This suit made him look particularly ferocious and lethal. John wondered if Gabriel wanted this suit for DC in general or for David Painter in particular. Both, as it turned out.

John had a couple of sirloins on the grill. Gabriel was transplanting basil, kneeling on a foam cushion John had found in the shed. “He’s a dick,” Gabriel said, and John had to agree. “You wouldn’t be going if you weren’t bored out of your skull.”

“Okay, agreed. But if he does have some boys in trouble in Tunisia, maybe I should help get them out. It’s like a powder keg over there right now. But I know it’s hard for you to get away on short notice. It’s okay if you can’t come with.”

“Work isn’t the problem. Juan is the problem. I do not want to be that father who is always gone when a crisis occurs. And that kid is brewing some sort of crisis. I don’t know what. On the other side of the coin, I don’t like you going into a danger zone alone. You need someone to watch your back. That’s always been me. The thing is, John, we’ve worked together so long now, we’re good at what we do. What we used to do, I mean. It would take you years to train someone else to understand your moves like I do.”

“I wondered sometimes if you ever wanted to step up and take lead. I was always in charge. You were never the kind of man to take second chair, but you always did. Did it ever bother you?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Nope. Only with you, though. Because you knew what you were doing. You got us into trouble, there was a reason. The rest of the world gets into trouble because they’re thinking with their dicks. I won’t back up anyone’s play but yours or my own.”

“You ever decide you want lead, just let me know. We could try a different way.”

Gabriel stood up and stretched out his sore knee. “Listen to us. Are we going to go back in time, be kick-ass crisis management again? And for who? Not the army. The highest bidder? Hard to imagine that. We would have to carefully parse those ethical lines. I thought we left all that behind for our soft little retirement careers.”

“That soft little retirement career is making me go soft in the head,” John said, hearing a faint whine in his voice. “I sit on my ass so much I’m losing blood flow below the knees. You make sure you negotiate a fair price with Painter for your service on this little rescue mission.”

“What, are you a volunteer? I’ll negotiate a fair price for both of us, General. He wanted you, or he’d have never got down on one knee like he did.”

John grinned at this. “Could you tell how much it hurt him to have to ask so nicely?”

“I always thought he had a bit of a thing for you.”

John shook his head. “Not that guy.”

“If he makes a pass at you, I’m going to take him down. Just fair warning, John.”

John brought the plateful of steaks to the picnic table on the back porch. “Okay, I think you’ve stroked my ego enough. Come eat some sirloin before the steaks get cold. Sure you don’t want to come shopping with me and Kim?”

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Gabriel said. “Though I have to admit, I’m looking forward to seeing you in your new Armani.”

“Good God.”

“I’
M
TELLING
you, the Suede Hipster Chukka in charcoal!” Abdullah had joined the shopping trip.

So had Billy. “I like the little bit more formality of the Fleetwood Derby, but it only comes in Ivory and Black. We need that shoe in pearl or charcoal.”

Kim waved his hands for silence. “Have we all at least agreed to pass on the wing tips?”

“If I have one pair of black shoes, I can wear them with everything, right? Doesn’t black go with everything? And I liked the wing tips.” Three pair of eyes studied him, two black and one blue, then they turned away and continued as if he wasn’t present.

“We have to decide the shoes now so we can decide the cuffs.”

The John Varvatos shoes seemed nice, though wildly overpriced. They were in Nordstrom downtown.

“Okay, one pair of the suede chukkas in charcoal and one pair of the Derbys in black. We’ll give him specific instructions on which to wear with what clothes.”

“I love this!” Billy was holding up a silk-linen shirt the color of lemons, and a solid lemon silk tie. “Check this out! With the tweedy charcoal trousers! His eyes are going to look iced!”

John looked at his watch. “Kim, I’m leaving for home at 2130. You’ve got forty-five minutes to draw this to a close.”

“Okay, Abdullah? You get the shirts and ties. The color combinations we discussed. Oh, don’t forget socks! Billy, get those trousers. I love the lemon shirt, good choice. Find a cardigan to go with, or a pullover. We probably are not lucky enough to find a charcoal with lemon stripe, but see what you can find. Maybe something different, like leaf green or peacock. Uncle John, come with me. I’ve got suits in the fitting rooms.”

The first suit felt a bit strange, because it was tighter than John usually wore his clothes, the jacket very fitted to the body. The material felt luxe, some thick silky something that had a faint pattern in the weave. “See, the fabric is
inferring
a pattern, Uncle J. Okay, sit down and see how it feels.”

He was surprised at the way the trousers seemed to give at the critical junctures. He was afraid the fit would be uncomfortable since it was so tight, but good tailoring seemed to have benefits he’d never considered. “Kim, it feels very nice, but isn’t this suit a size too small?”

Kim was shaking his head. “You’ve been wearing a suit one size too big. You no longer have to leave yourself room to reach for a weapon.”

John wasn’t sure he would agree with that assessment. “There wasn’t anything just a bit more subtle? This suit is practically shouting, and it has an Italian accent.”

Kim studied him, his chin in his fist. “Just wait here. I have an idea.”

The suit Kim brought back was not shiny, and the fabric had a bit of texture. It was the blue-gray of a brand new oiled revolver, very quiet, and thank God this one had two buttons on the jacket. He was not going to purchase a suit that intentionally left the bottom of his tie exposed. He actually liked this one. “Okay, let’s go with this.”

“Try it on first,” Kim said, and reached out to help unbutton.

“Can I have a little privacy please? You’re welcome to wait outside.”

Kim turned his back, pulled out his phone. “Abdullah, he went for number two. Get the pomegranate tie.”

“You’re calling Abdullah in the men’s department from the men’s department?”

“One of us has to stay with you at all times so you don’t bolt,” Kim explained. “Teal isn’t going to work with this suit. Wrong color gray.”

“As long as I can still wear my new Suede Hipster Chukkas.”

G
ABRIEL
was lying on the new couch, one foot propped up on the back, reading something on his Kindle. He sat up when John came in, watched the boys carry the bags in through to their bedroom, chattering like a flock of parrots. “God, you look exhausted! Awesome haircut! How did Kim talk you into that?”

“He didn’t,” John said, and sank down onto the sofa. He propped his feet up on the ottoman that looked like a giant leather polka dot. “He sabotaged me. There was a very good-looking guy who did the cut, said it was ‘edgy’. Not sure what that means other than the right side is a different length than the left, which I am assured is intentional. All I have to do is dry it with the towel per usual.”

“You look hot,” Gabriel said, and John shot him a look. “Uh oh. I think you need a blast radius!”

“Nearly three thousand dollars, Gabriel. For clothes! Can you believe it? And it fit into three bags. Explain that to me.”

“Three thousand? What did they buy?”

“Suit, two shirts, two ties, socks, two new pair of shoes, and a leisure outfit. Linen and silk trousers, and a shirt and tie the color of lemons that Billy picked out.”

“Lemons? Cool. You’re gonna knock ’em dead, tiger.”

John stood up. “Yeah, keep it up. It’s your turn next, my friend.”

“Forget about it.” Gabriel was back to reading on the Kindle. “I’ve got kids in Catholic school.”

T
HEIR
plane was due to take off at eleven in the morning, so John had time for breakfast with the boys. Billy had started looking at Abdullah with something like hero worship, appropriate for his sheik-of-the-burning-sands beauty. But whenever John looked at Abdullah, all he saw was a dusty, exhausted eight-year-old boy with bleeding feet, reaching out a hand to him. He still had the beard. John wondered if he’d just not had time to shave it off or if he and Kim were planning further sociology on the streets of Albuquerque.

“So tell me about the filming,” he said, pulling the eggs out of the fridge. Abdullah and Kim exchanged looks. “And without editing it for my blood pressure.”

Abdullah shrugged, gave Kim a look. Kim looked steadily back at him. “Abdullah is still not happy with me because I didn’t tell you,” he said. “But what Abdullah doesn’t understand is how you go all neutron bomb on me if there is any perceived safety issue, as if I was still a child.”

“Not trying to cause a problem here,” John said, his voice mild.

“Okay, think of it this way,” Kim said. “You’ve got me, you’ve got Billy, you’ve got Juan, you’ve got Abdullah. Sitting on the street with a cup for change. I’m Korean and Abdullah is Arab. You would think we would get a different response than Juan, who looks Hispanic, or Billy, who looks like Miss America, right? Because they belong here, and we don’t.”

“Billy looks like Miss America?”

“Blond and blue. It’s short-cut slang, Uncle J. Okay, so is racism alive and well in America among people my age? That’s the question I was exploring. Is racism really an extension of tribal culture, tribal identity? And we had some interesting anomalies.”

“Wait a minute. You didn’t really use Juan in this, did you?”

Kim shook his head. “I was just illustrating the premise. So one of the strange things noted was what Abdullah told you about the Bach.”