The 56th Man (28 page)

But how had Carrington...and
Sandra...known he would be at Firefox? Were the police and U.S.
Marshals Service working together? Or were there
two
groups watching his
house?

Ari saw two possibilities, one involving
chance, the other certainty, and one only a little less likely than
the other. Carrington had been visiting Howie that night to learn
what Howie had found out about his new neighbor. They had seen Ari
leave and Carrington had tailed him.

Sandra's presence at the Firefox could be
easily explained by the Scion so kindly provided Ari by the U.S.
Government—complete, perhaps, with a tracking device similar if not
identical to the LoJack system promoted by car dealers.

What else could Sandra be watching? His
computer was being monitored, of that he was positive. Could she be
watching him in real time? If there were cameras in the house,
Sandra must have busted a gut watching him chase Sphinx and walk
around in his underwear. She would have been puzzled by his
searching of the house, or perhaps she would have had a better idea
of what he was looking for than he did.

He glanced at his watch. Ten-thirty. Plenty
of time.

Within fifteen minutes he had satisfied
himself that no one was observing his every step and bowel
movement. There were no discreet spyholes, no mysterious bulges in
the ceiling, nothing but light bulbs in the overhead fixtures. He
went into the garage, turned on the light, and scowled at the
despised xB. A cursory inspection came up empty, but that did not
mean a transmitter wasn't imbedded in the frame. Even if he found
one, its removal would alert Sandra that he knew she was tracking
him. She might explain away her presence in the gallery as a
coincidence--she had just wanted to see the art of the man whose
house she had placed Ari in. But Ari had always doubted the U.S.
Marshal would let him run loose without any oversight.

They would know he had been at the Chinese
market at the time of the robbery attempt, yet Sandra had not
mentioned it. The store manager's loyalty might have proven
critical. Sandra had not connected him to the shooter.

He was vulnerable at three points, then:
Howie, the computer, the car. And possibly a fourth: Mackenzie. He
might soon find out.

A fifth vulnerability, one that had brought
him to this new land, was permanent.

He rolled his office chair into the master
bedroom, turned off the light, and sat at the window, sipping
slowly on a glass of tapwater. It was a little after eleven. The
middle of the river was almost invisible, with only a few reflected
lights forming broken lines on the water. He could not see the
Mackenzie house, but their porch light spread a faint arena across
the shore. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness he thought
he could discern the outline of the island. If there were boats out
there, he could not see them. Still, the weather was perfect. He
might very well get lucky.

Occasionally, he glanced down upon the yard,
on the off chance he would spot a yellow tabby approaching the
Riggins house. He berated himself for missing Sphinx.

He could have had company for the night. Tina
had made that clear when he dropped her off at her apartment
complex. With some difficulty, she had leaned sideways across the
knob of the shift stick and placed a warm hand on his chest, as
though trying to cup his heart. Then, sensing perhaps there was
nothing there, she drew back. Not bitterly, though, but with a wan
smile.

"You going to turn me in?" she said in a tone
that invited him to spank her.

"To the police? Of course not." Ari smiled
back at her. "Did you or Moria sleep with Detective
Carrington?"

"Me? Maybe. Not that I remember, though." Her
smile turned sad. Ari the Innocent. "Moria? Never in a million
years."

"She was faithful to Jerry?"

"I didn't say that." She got out without
saying more. Ari leaned down and spoke through the open passenger
window.

“
According to the news, there was some
jewelry missing. Do you think Moria could have sold it to a
pawnbroker?”

“
Anything's possible,” said Tina,
waving without turning back and striking out up the sidewalk with a
sashay more drunk than sexy.

What was the colloquial name for a cat?
Pussycat. Pussy. Ari smiled. His English was good. Then his face
dropped.

Ah, Sphinx, you faithless
creatur
e....

A rocket went up in the middle of the river.
The whistle and loud pop at the end were distinct, only slightly
muffled by the closed window. He studied the light from the
Mackenzie's porch. It remained on. Were they out for the night? Or
unconscious? Perhaps Matt had hustled his wife off to Rome.

He ran downstairs and opened the front door.
He checked his watch. Eleven forty-three.

Almost five minutes later another rocket went
up. Ari switched his porch light off, then on, then off, then on.
He grabbed the bag of zip ties from the living room, strolled down
to the gazebo, and sat on the bench. He leaned forward, lifted away
two floorboards, and pulled out a black plastic trash bag. He
removed the Tec-9 from the bag and checked it closely. He laid it
on the bench beside him.

He waited almost ten minutes before he
saw--or thought he saw--a smooth low shape on the water, like a
miniature submarine. It would make sense for the distributors to
survey the beach before committing themselves. Ari slipped some zip
ties in his pocket, then leaned forward and waved.

"Product!" came the voice over the water.

"Yes!" Ari shouted.

With the flowing ease of a snake the black
kayak approached. It took Ari a moment to distinguish the
black-attired men inside.

A regular pair of
ninjas
....

Leaving the gun behind, he stepped out in the
yard.

Although their next words were spoken lowly,
Ari was just able to make out the exchange:

"Come on, man, paddle!"

"He's wearing a jacket and tie!"

It hadn't occurred to Ari that looking
respectable would pose a problem. He struck a pose of
impatience.

"I don't have all night!"

They eased a little closer to land. Ari
walked down to the edge of the lawn, only a few feet from the
riverbank.

"Take off your jacket!"

Ari shrugged, removed his jacket, and draped
it over his arm.

"Throw it down!"

"It's brand new!" Ari protested.

"Then adios amigo!"

"Damn!" Ari threw the jacket on the grass.
His white shirt must stand out clearly. They would be able to see
he was not wearing a holster. To make it even more obvious, he
raised his arms shoulder level and performed a formal pirouette.
One of the kayakers laughed.

"Okay...stay there."

There was a soft thud as the kayak hit the
land shelf about ten feet from shore. As Ari expected, it was the
same two-man craft the Mackenzies had summoned to their yard. The
paddlers wore black wetsuits and Viper night vision goggles. More
commandos. Masked by their suits, goggles and head gear mounts, it
took Ari a moment to determine they were white. The man in front
squeezed out of his cockpit, rolling his legs over the side until
he was shin-deep in water. The second man stayed in the kayak,
holding it in place with one end of his paddle braced on the
shallow riverbottom, the other hand free. The hollow between his
legs could harbor a gun, Ari theorized. Even with a sprayskirt it
would have to be covered to guarantee the weapon stayed dry. That
would cause a delay when he reached down for it.

The man who came on shore was in his early to
mid twenties. He removed his goggles and gear mount, leaving his
helmet strapped under his chin. A strand of hair slid out from the
brim and lay like a dark "C" on his forehead. He was wary, but also
strangely shy, as if apologizing in advance for his line of
business. He carried a black rubber bag that made an odd zippery
suction sound when he opened it.

"What's your poison?"

Ari's English wasn't that good. His confusion
was apparent. When it dawned on the young man that he was dealing
with a non-native, he grinned broadly. "That's right. Your
neighbors said you were an Arab. What are you, some kind of Saudi
oil minister?"

"Alas,
Allah hasn't been
that kind to me."

"Freaky." The young man turned to his
companion and called out, "A fucking Muslim cokehead!"

"Great," said the other from the kayak.

Ari calculated he could handle the two of
them then and there, gun or no gun, if he was willing to get his
new suit wet. He wasn't. The young man seemed delighted to be
dealing to a foreigner. That seemed promising.

"You...want...coke?" the young man said,
turning back to Ari and holding two rubber-gloved fingers to his
nose. "How...much?"

"Coke?" Ari said uncertainly, grinning with
stupid politeness. "I no want Coke. I not thirsty."

"Oh great." The young man slowed his voice
even further, accompanying his words with broad sign language.
"You...know...about...us? They..." He pointed next door.
"...tell...you?"

Ari looked at him blankly. "They have
Coca-Cola."

"Oh boy..."

"You want to hurry it up?" the guy in the
kayak complained.

"Hold on," his partner shot back. "We're
dealing with international relations here." He smiled at Ari. "Do
you know...the meaning...of a buck?"

"I'm sorry?" Ari wanted to laugh. The dealer
was friendly but greedy. He was going to apply some artificial
inflation.

"How...much...you...want...spend?"

"I don't know. Here, I show--"

"Whoa! Where are you going?"

"Over here. Keep money in..." Ari cupped his
fingers and made a screwing motion over them.

"Oh man, the sheik keeps his money in a
jar!"

"Let's go!" said the voice from the
kayak.

"Hold on!" The young man was yelling at both
his partner and Ari, who was walking slowly to the gazebo. Then he
repeated, for Ari's benefit, "Hold...on!"

Ari paused and turned, raising his arms as
though being crucified on his ignorance. To his dismay, as the
young man strode up he trod on the new sports jacket. Ari contained
his wrath with difficulty.

"Where are you going!" the guy in the kayak
shouted.

"He's got his money up here! He'll probably
give me the whole shebang!" He came abreast of Ari and said, "Okay,
let's go."

Ari had only once allowed a cashier to pluck
money out of his wallet. After that, he quickly taught himself the
rate of exchange.

Dark shadows crisscrossed the gazebo
interior. When Ari reached down for the Tec-9, the young man
reasoned it could be a jar. When Ari pointed it at his head he
began to reach out for his money. When he saw his mistake, he
looked ready to burst into tears.

"I should've known."

"Yes, you should have," said Ari
pedagogically.

And then the young man swelled up. He was
going to yell a warning to his partner despite the threat of being
shot. Ari admired his loyalty and clipped him on the jaw. He
dropped.

Ari stepped off the gazebo platform and
marched down to the beach. When the man in the kayak saw the gun at
his side he reached down.

"If you take out a gun I'll kill you," Ari
said matter-of-factly.

The kayaker sensed the truth of the warning
and bolted upright, his hand still empty. He filled it quickly with
paddle-shaft and began to push off.

"If you do that I'll shoot your boat full of
holes and you'll have to swim ashore anyway. You'll find that
difficult, because I intend to shoot you in the arms, too."

The kayaker stopped, the two blades of his
paddle hanging equidistant to either side.

"You didn't say 'freeze'," the second young
man said.

"No."

"You're not a cop..."

"Freeze," said Ari. "And fast. You're
drifting away."

The kayaker seemed inclined to float with the
current. His night goggles allowed him to clearly see Ari aiming
the Tec-9 at his head. With sluggish reluctance he paddled to the
shore.

"Get out and drag the boat up here."

Squeezing past the sprayskirt, the young man
jumped in the water. He glanced up at Ari and the gun, then hooked
his hand on the rim of the front cockpit and hauled the kayak up
onto the lawn.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your
back."

"Why don't you--"

Ari sucker-punched him in the solar plexus
and used the zip ties as flex-cuffs when he doubled over. He
planted a foot on his buttocks and pushed him forward onto his
stomach, the young man howling when the goggles banged into his
head. Ari flex-cuffed his ankles.

Going back to gazebo, he found the first
kayaker woozily coming to. He offered only feeble resistance when
Ari applied the zip ties and took away his goggles. He went up to
the house and switched off the porch light. He then donned the
goggles and checked the perimeter of his yard. The Viper allowed
him to see into the woods. Satisfied no one was watching, he walked
down to the kayak. The second man began to yell. Ari told him to
shut up, or he would shoot him. He shut up.

He tilted the kayak sideways and reached
below the sprayskirt. He found another waterproof pouch similar to
the one the first man had opened, plus a Ziploc bag containing a
flashlight, a knife, a cell phone and a .38 Smith & Wesson
Special with a stylish red handle. He opened the black pouch. It
contained small plastic bags. There were three sizes, it seemed.
Gram, half-gram, quarter-gram. He went over to the second man.

"Where is the money?"

"What are you talking--"

Ari kicked him in the stomach and walked up
to the gazebo.