The Godless One (34 page)

"That you have seen the white van
again, the one Fatimah saw the night that man was killed and police
asked questions. You are to say you saw it parked on the first fire
road to the left off Sugar Loaf Road."

"That's..."

"Just past Uday's house, yes. And this
time, you will give them a license plate number. Not the one out
there now. This..." Ari took out a slip of paper. On it was a
Quebec license plate number and two phone numbers. "If they ask you
what you were doing out there, tell them you were on a nature
hike."

"They'll never believe that!" Joe
protested.

"Yes they will. Americans swear by
nature hikes, it's just that few of them know a tree from a bush.
They'll be impressed. They'll think you're really adapting to their
country. And once he's gone...I'm sure he will be...you can stock
your shelves with as many Twinkies as the market will
bear."

Father and daughter weathered inward
storms as they eyed this battered man. Their belief was
nonexistent, but their hope struggled to the surface. It was not
enough, though, until Abu Jasim whipped out his Saddam moustache,
planted it crookedly on his face, and declaimed, "Would I lie to
you?"

Their laughter was spontaneous and
hard, too hard, it cracked their lungs and made them
weep.

"Well?" Ari asked impatiently, feeling
time growing thin.

Joe's childhood and youth
were spent in a world where the only clock was Nature. The
barbel
spawned, the
nights grew chilly, blood feuds were settled in death or resolved
by ancient councils. Then Saddam Hussein came and time acquired
unimagined velocity. There was the death of the eternally shifting
marshlands. People were left gasping, like the fish dying on the
embankments. And there were the quick knife thrusts of military
incursion, with the Madan fleeing for their lives, sometimes
reaching the crossings to Iran, often being caught and deported,
often being killed on the spot. One’s mind and body raced together
in this new world where imaginary monsters became real while the
charm of the seasons lay slain in the mud. Then there was the
sickness, followed by flight in a window-less military transport,
and then the door opening to this new blacktopped land of chemical
smells and indifferent strangers. Joe forced himself out of the old
mode of existence to become a shopkeeper, and for awhile it was a
time of panic as he learned to sell small bits of food and tanks of
gasoline to voluntary wayfarers. His last ounce of emotional energy
had been consumed by this compromise between safety and misery.
Uday had come, a hateful miracle, and yet devils had a place in
Joe's universe, and he was just one more to be accommodated. Joe
had even comforted himself with the idea that Uday was a link to
his homeland, perverted to be sure, but also a strange consolation.
Iraq, ancient, venomous, home—was still alive. Staring at the paper
in Ari's hand, he drew back a little further and bumped into a wire
stand piled with free real estate magazines.

Fatimah watched him closely, fully
comprehending his turmoil. Her father could retreat no further,
would make all the concessions necessary to stay in place. He had
not kept the gun under his apron with the thought of one day
killing Uday and his henchmen. There had been an armed robbery at
Buddy's the week before, and Joe had conceded to the need to arm
himself. He had attacked Abu Jasim because the past and present had
conflated in his mind: Saddam was a bandit from the grave, come to
rob the Stop-N. Otherwise, Joe had relinquished any hold he might
have on his fate, and the fate of his daughter. But her poisoned
body had a healthy grasp on the new world. She stepped up to Ari
and snatched the paper out of his hand. "I'll call."

"Fatimah," her father
gasped.

"Also," Ari continued, "you say Uday
came here after the police questioned you? He wanted to know what
they asked about?"

Father and daughter nodded
tentatively.

"I can see why he might be interested.
But tell me, wasn't there something else? Fatimah...you didn't call
the police yourself, did you? They came here because they were
asking everyone in the area if they had seen something the night
that police detective was killed. Buddy up the street...the local
antique dealers...farmers.... They probably even stopped by Uday's
house."

"Yes?" Joe said
questioningly.

"Then why would Uday come here, when he
knew everyone had been questioned?"

"He must have seen us
talking..."

"No, you called someone, didn't you? I
suspect Uday has forced you to be his eyes and ears in this
village. It's the perfect location. You're in a better position to
hear local gossip. And on that night, you called and told him his
very own father had shown up on your doorstep. I'll bet Uday came
blazing a streak when he heard that. He knew that since he had
survived, perhaps his father had, too." Ari was speaking gently,
directing most of his words at Fatimah. Joe was too dazed to
protest. "He decided you were deluded, didn't he? That you were a
silly girl not worth paying attention to. And knowing him, he
probably did worse."

"He said the poison had gotten into my
brain." Fatimah stilled her shaking by crossing her arms and
curling her hands at her elbows.

"I need that phone number, the one you
called that night. It's very important."

"You aren't going to
call..."

"I am, I won't lie. But it's not to say
anything about you."

"A trap?" Joe asked. Ari answered with
a vague smile.

Fatimah went behind the counter and
brought back a yellow stickynote bearing a phone number.

"Is there anything else?" she asked
calmly. "Do you still want a sandwich? They're $3.50
each."

Ari studied her for a moment, and knew
she would do.

"Yes. My companion looks hungry. We'll
take two sandwiches. And..." Ari went over to a wire basket on the
nearest shelf. It contained new padlocks. "And I want to buy this.
Replace the lock on your walk-in cooler with it and give me the old
one and its key. Please don't leave any scratches on
it."

Fatimah was startled, but said nothing.
Abu Jasim was startled, and with a shake of his head, said, "Off
your rocker, Colonel..."

Back in the Astrovan, Ari called Ahmad
and told him to drive his uncle's new Sprinter to the fire road
past Uday's house. After hanging up, he found Abu Jasim staring at
him. "Well? Drive on. We'll meet your nephew in the
woods."

Muttering, Abu Jasim pulled out and
they were soon on Bear Creek Lake Road.

"Uday my ass," Abu Jasim said grimly as
he turned onto Sugar Loaf. "Maybe it's not Latif Yahia. It could be
another of Uday's doubles."

"How many of them could there be?" Ari
asked.

"There weren't many
fatids
," said Abu Jasim.
"We didn't have a union. But I wasn't the only one for Saddam, and
I'm sure Uday had his share, too, buck teeth and all. What if it's
just another one of those that you're after? He would still have
plenty of information the Americans would be interested in. How's
that, Colonel? What if it's the Americans who are protecting him?
They would invest a small army, just like the one we saw. Eh,
Colonel? He could be another you, crouching like a tiger
in—"

"I'm aware of that!" Ari snapped,
giving vent to a fear he had borne for days. "It's possible. But
wouldn't it be the right thing to do, anyway? To get rid of a
bully?"

"I'm sure the Americans will appreciate
that."

"But isn't that why they went to war
against us?" Ari reasoned speciously. "They sent their
state-of-the-art against our decrepit army, just to kill a
bully."

Abu Jasim began to slow down as they
approached Uday's driveway.

"Don't worry," said Ari. "They won't
notice us. There's a state park nearby. They're used to people
going back and forth."

On the fire road Abu Jasim sped along
without concern for the rocks banging up against the old van’s
chassis. On reaching the secondary, dead-end fire road he had Abu
Jasim lift the barrier and pull the van in as far as it would go.
Then he had him remove the license plate and replace it with the
one he had brought from Montreal.

"Now we wipe it down. Every inch. You
must have left prints everywhere when you took down the fake
panels."

Abu Jasim grumbled as he began plying a
cloth. He grumbled even more when Ari tried to help. "Colonel,
can't you work without moaning and groaning?"

"I could say the same to you," Ari shot
back. "When we're done, leave the key under the seat.

When they were done, they stood back
for a moment, as though admiring a new coat of paint. Then they
walked back to the main fire road to meet Ahmad.

"There's plenty of room," Ari said.
"The other car will fit nicely."

Abu Jasim made a sound in lieu of
asking Ari what he was up to. He yanked Ahmad out of the Sprinter
driver seat.

"Hey, I wasn't stealing it!" the young
man complained.

"You were driving it! It comes to the
same thing."

"But—"

Ari told Abu Jasim to turn around and
return to the secondary fire road where the Lexus was
parked.

"Here, start making it look as if no
one's been here. Use branches, be creative. Make it seem the last
people to walk this way were the Indians."

Abu Jasim, a little short on history,
gave Ari a perplexed look.

"He means Native Americans," Ahmad
said, and received a cuff for his education.

"Remember how we camouflaged our tanks
and artillery when the Americans came?" Ari said.

"Lot of good it did us," Abu Jasim
frowned.

"Same idea. Cover the tracks. The grass
further up is tall. Bend it back this way. It should straighten
up."

"But there's so much mud!"

"The snow's melted and there aren't any
tire tracks. He hasn't driven the Lexus since the
storm."

Abu Jasim watched skeptically as Ari
removed the broken lock from the barrier and inserted Joe's
age-tarnished walk-in cooler lock in its place, taking care to wipe
off any prints. Then he spent an hour directing uncle and nephew in
their attempt to make the lane look pristine. It was truly a long
shot, but it was the best he could think of.

"Stop," he commanded finally. "If we go
on too long, it will begin looking like a buffalo herd went
through. When you return, be sure to wipe off your fingerprints
from the broken lock before you put it back."

"We're coming back?"

"Both of you, this evening. I want the
GT in place. We have to move quickly, before Uday or one of his men
find the new lock. But first..."

"What?"

"More reconnaissance. We need to see
where this fire road ends up. We'll be coming in on the other side.
And...here..." Ari was standing near the entrance of the secondary
fire road. He began walking slowly up the main fire road, peering
into the underbrush. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed. "See where
those trees have fallen in there, behind those bushes?"

Abu Jasim and Ahmad eyed him with some
alarm.

"Go in there and clear out a spot. Make
sure you can see the entrances to both secondary roads. Someone
with night goggles can—"

"No!" Ahmad wailed, seeing what was
coming. "It's cold and going to get colder! The woods are full of
vermin...or something. And coyotes! Didn't you say there were
coyotes?"

"The bugs are dormant," said Ari,
hoping they were but knowing it didn't matter. "And you'll be
armed. As soon as you see those fangs coming for your neck, shoot.
But use a silencer."

Ahmad turned frantically to his uncle,
who shrugged resignedly. "We'll get you some battery-heated socks
and underwear on the way back. You'll be snug," he added, leering.
"We'll even leave you a few crackers."

They spent another hour doing as Ari
bid, finishing around noon. Ari walked down to the road where they
had parked the Astrovan and waved at Ahmad, crouched like a sour
ball in the blind. Reluctantly, he waved back. Then Ari walked to
the entrance of Uday's escape hatch and again exchanged waves. He
nodded in satisfaction.

"You'll be on the road most of the
day," said Ari while the two men covered the tracks they had left
on the side of the road.

"And you?"

"Drop me off a block from my house. I
need to sleep."

But Ari did not wait until they reached
Richmond. He fell asleep on the Sprinter bench, now too tired by be
bothered by the smell of new vinyl.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Karen's face dropped when Ari opened
the door.

"I tripped down the stairs," he blandly
explained.

"You fell in the trash compactor, you
mean," said the dismayed deputy marshal. "You told me when I called
that you were raring to go."

"Did I mis-employ the
phrase?"