Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel (28 page)

“I see,” Val said slowly. “Why you didn’t tell me about this before?”

“I didn’t know it was pertinent,” said Nikki. Val didn’t sound mad, but Nikki was never very certain of Val’s emotions. “I mean, he was just this guy at a bar and it’s not like I ever saw him again. I mean, till now.”

“Hmm,” said Val.

“But there was one odd thing,” Nikki said, creeping up to the truth, hoping to attack it from the rear. “The lawyer, when he was trying to pick me up, he used a different name. Different from the one he used with the Sarkassian guy.”

Val frowned. “What did he say it was?”

“Z’ev,” said Nikki, feeling slightly guilty, as if she were telling the wrong person a secret. Which was silly.

“I always thought that was odd,” she continued, “but now that we know he’s connected with the Victor guy, well, it’s downright suspicious.”

Val opened her mouth as if to speak, but then shut it again and turned again to look out the window, her lips twisting and her fingers drumming as if in concentrated thought.

“You said this was in Canada? That wasn’t the trip where you won the starter kit, was it?” asked Val.

“That was later,” said Nikki, waving her hand to put it in the past. “They weren’t related or anything.” Were they?

“Right,” said Val, fiddling with her lighter the way she did when she was trying to put her thoughts together.

The cab crossed out of the tourist area and into the scrambling warren of buildings, street vendors, and shops. The car’s pace became slower as the streets became narrower and the pedestrian traffic thicker. They drove past a cluster of monks in orange robes and sunglasses. Nikki wished she’d brought her camera.

“What did he say last night when you saw him?” Val asked abruptly.

“He asked to see me so that he could ‘explain.’” This was where things got sticky. Last night Nikki’s version of events had been very brief, and while she could gloss over Canada, she knew Val would be irritated that she hadn’t been fully honest about last night. “And I figured we needed to find out about these guys anyway, so I told him I was staying at the Mandarin and agreed to see him.”

“And you couldn’t have told me this last night?” Val snapped.

“Well, you sort of rushed in and out,” Nikki said weakly. “I
told you about the phone and what they said in the room and everything.”

“Right. Yeah, the cell phone. You mentioned that. Jane’s working on that?” Val fiddled with her lighter a bit more.

“Yeah, she said she’d have information soon. But don’t you think we should find out who they are? And who Jim Webster really is? And what their connection to Lawan is?” Nikki asked hopefully.

Val flipped the lighter through her fingers and didn’t look at Nikki. The cab was slowing, as if it was searching for their destination.

“I already know him after all, and he’s agreed to talk to me. It seems worth pursuing.”

Val finally looked at Nikki and nodded as if reaching a decision. “Yeah, I think we should. It is suspicious. We should find out everything we can about this lawyer. You can’t trust a guy like that. He could be very dangerous.”

“I don’t know,” protested Nikki. “He never made any threats or anything. I mean, he lied, but . . .”

“The dangerous ones don’t make threats. Besides, everyone knows you can’t trust lawyers.”

Nikki laughed weakly as the cab pulled to a stop in front of a store with grimy windows displaying undusted carvings of Thai elephants.

“Is this the place?” asked Nikki, looking doubtfully at the display, as Val paid the cab driver. “It looks kind of shady.”

“What, you expect to buy guns at the local gun emporium?” Val was looking around the area as if expecting to see someone.

“I suppose,” Nikki said, and pushed the shop door open hesitantly. Hanging bells jangled against the doorframe as she entered. The shop was cluttered with carvings and furniture. Nothing looked organized and the place had the musty smell of disuse.

“Kovit,” called Val, stepping in behind her, but no one answered.

“Kovit!” Val called again, impatiently this time. “Shit,” she swore when no one answered, and Nikki felt a prickle of nervousness run across the skin on the nape of her neck.

“Is something wrong?” Nikki asked.

“Eh? No. Look . . . just stay here for a minute,” said Val, and she walked toward a bead-curtained doorway behind the sales counter. The curtain made clicking noises that sounded extra loud against the silence.

Nikki walked up and down the aisles of woodcarvings, passing Buddhas, boddhisatvas, and topless princesses with their sweet smiles and heavy-lidded eyes.

Nikki’s phone began to ring with the repetitive sound of her mother’s ring tone. She fumbled in her purse, anxious to turn off the racket, but the phone slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. She bent over to pick it up and was surprised by a soft popping noise and a sudden rain of splinters as the head of a statue in front of her exploded.

Nikki yelped and scrambled in an army crawl down the aisle, diving under a table as two more carvings sustained bullet damage. She heard the footsteps before she saw him. He was dressed in black, a black gun and silencer held easily in his hand. Her view of his face was obscured by a table’s edges. All she could see was the red patch with an
R
sewn to the arm of his jacket. Nikki tried to quiet her breathing, which was coming in ragged gasps, and look for an escape. But all she could think was that, somewhere, her mother had clearly hit Redial without leaving a message because the phone was ringing again.

The man was getting closer. Nikki crawled away. She ducked behind a life-size statue of a baby elephant, risking a look at her attacker through its legs. They were in the animal section now. Behind the man a life-size gazelle thing with twisted horns seemed
ready to attack on her behalf and a monkey squatted, covering its eyes. She was prepared to bet that somewhere two other monkeys were covering their mouths and ears, respectively.

There was a clicking noise and her attacker turned away from her. Nikki recognized the noise. It was the sound of Val coming back through the bead curtain. Instantly, Nikki launched herself. She wasn’t about to let her partner get shot. The man saw her coming and swung back toward her, but there was an ear-shattering report and the man’s arm and shoulder sprang up as if jerked by a rope. Unable to stop herself, Nikki hit him low. There was a tangle of limbs as both of them struggled for his gun. At last, Nikki wrenched it from him and kicked it away. The man flailed and then fell crashing through the monkey and onto the pronged horns of the gazelle statue.

Nikki stared in horror as the man plucked at the wooden horn poking out of his chest. She was dimly aware that Val was standing beside her now, a gun in her hand.

The man looked from the horn to them, his face an uncomprehending mask of surprise. “But why?” he said, and then stopped breathing.

Nikki gasped, choking on her own tears, and Val slipped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her briefly.

“You killed him,” said a new voice.

“Shit happens,” Val said, turning to the newcomer and letting go of Nikki.

“Yes, but does it have to happen here, Mrs. Robinson?” he asked, sounding peeved.

Nikki tore her eyes away from the body and looked at the newcomer. He was Thai, thin, with a very round head. He took a cigarette from behind his ear and put it in his mouth.

“So you want that gun or what?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’ll do,” Val said.

“The body will cost you extra. Extra, yeah?”

“Yeah, Kovit, extra,” she agreed, and the man nodded, apparently satisfied.

“You need anything else?” he asked.

“A backup piece, maybe a Walther PPK,” said Val with a shrug.

Nikki tried to pretend she wasn’t shocked. There was a dead man in front of her, and neither Val nor the shopkeeper appeared disturbed by it.

“Sure, sure, we can do that,” said Kovit, nodding. “I’m running a great deal on some Uzis right now, any interest? How about some grenades?”

Val shook her head. “Just the sidearms.”

“All right, no problem, no problem. So the Glock for you, and I think I’m out of the Walthers just now, so how about a Smith & Wesson 38?”

“It’s got to be small. I want it in an ankle holster.”

“Sure, sure. Snub nose. No problem. You want holsters also?” Val nodded, and he made some more notes in Thai on a receipt pad. “Anything for your friend?” They both looked at Nikki. She felt frozen under the weight of their combined gaze.

“Uh, a .45? Colt 1911, if I can.” Nikki blurted out the first gun that came to her mind. The reliable performance and stopping power of the 1911 had made it a favorite of armed forces around the world since World War I, but Nikki had liked it in practice because the slim grip made it easier for her smaller hands to control. It was amazing to her that she could focus on these small details while still wanting to throw up.

“You bet, you bet,” answered Kovit, nodding. “The 1911. Plus shoulder holster?” He looked at Val, ignoring Nikki. Val nodded again. “Will you be needing ammo?”

“Yeah,” agreed Val.” And spare clips.”

Kovit nodded and disappeared into the back of the shop.

“He’s dead,” said Nikki, pointing at the body. “I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for you. He was going to kill me, and you shot him. And then there was the falling . . .”

“Yeah,” Val said. “I wish that hadn’t happened.”

“What do we do?” asked Nikki.

Val shrugged. “Kovit will take care of it.”

Kovit returned, and Val inspected the guns, handing Nikki the .45. It seemed a huge weight in her hands. Nikki collected her now beeping phone and purse from the floor and tucked the gun into it—hammer carefully down. During moments of emotional stress it was important to adhere to safety procedures—Mrs. Boyer’s voice echoed in her mind.

“Thanks for your time, Kovit,” Val said, and pushed Nikki toward the door.

Kovit waved as he pinched out his cigarette and tucked it behind his ear again.

They were four blocks away before Nikki began to have rational thoughts.

“We should have searched the body for clues,” she said.

Val nodded.

“Why was he trying to kill me?”

Val shrugged.

“And how did he know we were there to try to kill us?”

Val shrugged again.

“Haven’t you got anything to say?” demanded Nikki.

“The lawyer,” said Val. “I think we need to find out about the lawyer.”

THAILAND VII

Weapons of Choice

Valerie shoved herself into a cab, and Nikki mimicked her movements, looking back over her shoulder. But what was she looking for? Her nervous glances simply took in the busy street and bustling people.

“All right,” said Val, finishing her “international English” discussion with the cab driver—which mostly involved a lot of pointing at a map. “Let’s talk about this thing.”

Nikki nodded. She wanted to cry, but knew that was unacceptable. Instead, she found her breath coming in short gasps as if she couldn’t get enough air. She could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips, like the fluttering wings of a hummingbird.

“So you tell the lawyer where you’re staying, and the next thing you’ve got is someone following us and trying to kill you.”

“Following us . . .” Nikki was taken aback. “No . . .”

“Yes,” Val contradicted.

“But I think that guy was already there,” said Nikki. She couldn’t remember why she thought that. “I didn’t hear him come
in,” she said quickly, knowing that her time to speak was quickly running out. Her breath was evening out. The panic was starting to ebb, but she didn’t feel any better about it.

“He probably slipped in the back,” Val said dismissively.

“How could he have known we were there?” asked Nikki, still not quite following Val’s rapid words.

“That’s what I’m saying!” exclaimed Val, as if they’d already covered that ground. “I know
I
didn’t tell anyone where we were going, so someone must have followed us. And since your boyfriend, the lawyer, is the only one who knows where we’re staying, I’m going to go with him as a prime suspect.”

“I didn’t see anyone following us,” said Nikki doubtfully.

Val rolled her eyes. “You weren’t exactly looking, were you now?” Nikki bit her lip and said nothing, knowing that this was true. She hadn’t been really careful about checking for tails.

“So you were right,” continued Val. “We need to investigate the lawyer.”

“I think”—Nikki tried to marshal her thoughts, but they kept straying away—“I think we need to check out other guys, too. The purple shirt guy, Victor, and Sarkassian. You spent some time with Sarkassian. What did you think? Did he say anything suspicious?”

“Suspicious, double entendre, whatever. Look, Sarkassian’s out of your league, kid. Leave him to me.”

“OK,” Nikki agreed readily. “But don’t you think we should check them out?”

“Yeah, sure. We will,” said Val, although there was something less than reassuring about her tone. “But we need to stay focused on our mission. Lawan is our first priority.”

Nikki nodded. That was true.

“We need to search her apartment before we worry about Sarkassian.”

Nikki scratched the back of her neck, pushing tendrils of hair out of the way. Searching Lawan’s apartment had been second on the list of duties for the day, but Nikki felt that somehow a mysterious gunman and his death should dislodge the day’s to-do list.

“OK,” she agreed reluctantly, picturing a repeat of the hours spent at Lawan’s office, but on a larger scale.

Lawan’s apartment was in a shabby turn-of-the-century building with clear British influences and a very sturdy iron gate. Val punched in the code from the numbers that Laura had scrawled on the back of a business card and they entered a quiet courtyard with a slightly rusty swing set in the corner. The interior of the house was clean and nearly spartan in its lack of clutter. The two exceptions were the little girl’s bedroom and Lawan’s home office.

The girl’s bedroom was an explosion of pink and purple. No surface seemed to have escaped being treated with paint or ruffles. Even the mosquito netting over the bed had been dyed purple. The office was just as cluttered, but clearly not through intentional design. Magazines, newspapers, and piles of computer printouts, were scattered everywhere. But pictures of Lawan and her daughter covered the walls.