The Secret History of Las Vegas (20 page)

So you are both Arjuna and Satan, Sunil asked.

Yes, you could say that. They are both balanced between their human ideal and their animal baseness. Nature worships harmony. I told you, this land is my purpose. It has taught me everything; Dante and the
Gita
just provided the language. My father worked as a ranger in Kruger trying to protect wildlife from poachers. He taught me that the only people who really respect and understand this world are the Bushmen; they know everything must live in balance, in harmony with everything else. Have you seen a lion stalk a wildebeest? It does so with respect. It takes its time and tries to make its kills as elegant and efficient as possible. When it kills it doesn't do so for sport or because its feelings have been hurt, it kills for hunger and protection, nothing more. And in this way it brings honor to its victims. And what it doesn't eat of its kill, the land takes back, using scavengers from the four-legged kind down to the microscopic kind. Nature uses everything in a cycle of honor, each thing in its right place. I told you that I am different from these men. When I kill a man, or a woman, it is with regret and honor. I never dispose of their bodies; I return them to the honor of nature's use. I feed their bodies to the scavengers; I grind their bones up and fertilize the flowers in the compound. I pray when I do this, not in a Christian way, but in the way of Bushmen, I say to the souls of the dead, You can leave this place now and return in another form because you have been honored. I am an elegant and efficient killer, and a warrior with the highest ideals; I take no joy in my work, except when it is done with honor. This in the end is the truth of this land.

Sunil swallowed. And these men, he asked. I can't imagine what they would do that could be worse.

Watch, Eugene said.

The men had gathered axes and machetes and they were systematically chopping the hooded man into pieces, which they threw onto the grill.

They are not—

Going to eat him? No, they are disposing of him. They don't care that he be returned; they care only that he not be identifiable. It will take about six hours to finish burning his body; highly inefficient, and what is worse is that there is no honor in this.

And yet you let it happen.

All great generals know that they must allow their men sport. All work and no play is bad for morale. This is their sport.

Sunil watched the policemen drinking as the hooded man burned, white and black together, united in this terror.

Do you know why that man died, Eugene asked.

I cannot imagine, Sunil said.

He wouldn't give up information about the location of ANC terrorists that he was known to associate with. That's why you are here. I want you to find ways with psychology and drugs to improve the interrogations. I don't want to waste bodies. I want you to turn prisoners into informants. Only those who must die will die. I don't enjoy the slaughter; I am a warrior, not a killer.

I traveled from Pretoria with that man, Sunil said. He begged for his life the entire journey.

He wasn't a man to them, Sunil. It's like this: every creation story needs a devil. For the Boer, the blacks are the demons.

The man never confessed, Sunil asked, the fire dancing off his eyes and skin, reflecting in Eugene's glasses.

Never, Eugene breathed, something like respect in his voice.

Then I am just like that man, Sunil said.

How so?

Can I tell you a story?

Sure, Eugene said. I like stories. They help us bond.

Bertolt Brecht told of a European peasant caught by the Nazi invasion. An SS officer commandeers the man's house and tells him, From now on, I will live here and you will serve me and attend to my every need, and if you do not, I will kill you. Do you submit to me? The peasant doesn't answer but spends the next two years serving the SS officer in every way. Then the Russians come and liberate the town. They gather all the Nazis in the square, and just before they are shot, the peasant comes up to the officer and answers the question that he greeted with silence two years before. No, he spits at the officer, I will not submit to you. This is the end that awaits apartheid.

Perhaps, Eugene said, and if I am that officer in your story, I will go happy knowing that all I did was in service of a higher ideal and has already been transformed into God's work. But for now, we need to end some of this killing. Will you help me?

No, but I will help men and women like him, Sunil said, pointing to the burning man. I don't expect it to be transformed into God's work, but only hope that mercy may find me before the end of my life.

Welcome aboard, Eugene said.

Together they stood in silence, for the next six hours, watching the burning man.

MONDAY

D
awn almost never brings clarity with it, and this morning was no different. It was close to four a.m. when Salazar dropped Sunil off.

One of your guests is still waiting, the doorman said as he let him in.

Guests? There's more than one?

Yes, Dr. Singh, your girlfriend and another woman. An older one.

My girlfriend?

The young lady who is always here. Asia, I think her name is.

Ah, and the older one?

She signed in as Dr. Jackson. She had the same work ID as you. I thought you might be working late, but she left very soon after she arrived.

Huh, thank you, Sunil said. He was unsettled by the idea that Sheila and Asia had met. He didn't understand why Sheila had come, but he didn't like that she knew about Asia.

Oh, also the police were here. Several units were broken into and trashed. We were unable to reach you, so please let us know when you get in if your unit was affected too. I will come up and take pictures and file a report with the police for you. At the moment we think it wasn't a robbery but the work of vandals.

How did vandals get into a secure building, Sunil asked.

The doorman looked down at his shoes. The police and management are investigating, he said.

Sunil contemplated calling Salazar. Fuck, he thought, this is not what I need now. Thank you, he said to the doorman, and crossed to the elevators. As the doors closed, Sunil reached for his phone. Why hadn't anyone tried to call him, he wondered, and then remembered that his phone had been off, and that he still hadn't listened to any of his messages.

Why would vandals break into this building? Fuck, he was too tired for drama. He had barely inserted his key into the lock when the door swung open and Asia stood there, face less swollen than before, but clearly badly bruised. She was wearing his shirt and not much else, and in that moment, Sunil hated himself because he was at once turned on and torn up for her.

Asia, he said.

Sunil.

What happened?

I've missed you, she said, and her voice was very quiet.

They stood there for a while, as though stranded, stuck, as if waiting for directions from someone hidden in the wings. He smiled suddenly and touched her face, and she pulled back, wincing.

Can I come in, he asked, as though he needed permission.

She stepped back and he shut the door behind him, then drew her to him, holding her close, yet gently, so as not to hurt her.

Did the vandals do this to you?

No, she said. They were long gone by the time I got here.

Did a client do it?

She nodded against his shoulder.

Have you been checked out, medically?

I'm fine, really.

Was it, you know—

Rape? No.

What then?

Someone tried to kill me.

Oh baby, he said, and his voice was heavy with sorrow and guilt and despair. I'm so sorry, so sorry. What did the police say?

The casino handled it. You know, it would get awkward with the police; I would be arrested for solicitation. Besides, he got away.

I'm so sorry, Sunil repeated, realizing that, like most people, he kept forgetting that although prostitution was legal in most of Nevada, it was actually illegal in Vegas itself.

I'm okay, Asia said, but her voice was slight, a faint tremolo against his skin.

They stood there for a while in silence, Sunil stroking her hair.

Sheila was here looking for you, she said, trying to keep the jealous bite out of her voice.

Did she say what she wanted?

To see you. Like me, she was worried. We'd both been trying to call you all day.

I'm sorry. My phone was switched off.

I needed you today.

I'm sorry.

She pulled away, wrapping her arms tight around herself. Where were you?

Salazar and I went to chase down a lead in the desert.

Who is Salazar, she asked. She hadn't meant for her voice to be shrill, but it was.

The detective who brought the twins into my institute.

What twins?

The ones you didn't want to talk about, remember, he said.

Right, she said. Of course.

The doorman says the police were here. Did they bother you, he asked, unconsciously straightening the Kentridge painting, looking things over, trying to tell if anything was missing, wondering if it was too soon to go through his effects.

No, she said. Nobody came here.

Do you need anything, he asked. Something to drink, to eat, or something for pain?

Asia shook her head.

Can you tell me about your attack? Do you know who it was?

She nodded. Yes, she said.

He sat next to her on the couch, noting that the Bible where he'd hidden the hard drive with his research was open, the disk gone. This is not the time, he said to himself, forcing his attention back to the moment, to Asia. He took her hands in his, and something about this moment, about his absence in her time of need, reminded him of Jan and of the whitewashed room in Vlakplaas. He pushed the memory down, but not before he saw a spray of crimson pattern the white walls.

Who was it, a regular?

A new client, relatively new, she said.

As she spoke she saw in his eyes how difficult this conversation was for him, and something inside her took pleasure at that. At the knowledge that even beyond himself, beyond any control he could have, he loved her. And in that moment she knew she couldn't drag the moment out. There was no kindness in protecting him, or herself for that matter, from the terrible truth of it.

It was your friend Eskia.

Sunil, who had been stroking her hair, felt himself stiffen, his hand unconsciously gripping her hair.

Ow, she said, so softly it was barely a sound.

I'm sorry, he said, letting go. Eskia, you said?

Eskia.

He needed to sit down. No, wait, he was sitting down. He didn't know Eskia was in town. What the fuck was going on? Had Eskia broken in here? To harm Sunil or just steal his work?

Why, he asked, not sure what he meant. Did he mean, Why did he hurt you or Why would you sleep with my friend, my rival, my nemesis, even if you are a hooker?

Why what, Sunil?

Why would he try to hurt you, Sunil said, gathering himself, bracing. Why did he do this?

He said he wanted to hurt you the way you hurt him before he kills you.

Kills me?

Yes, he said he was going to kill you.

Sunil got up and walked over to the window.

Why does he want to kill you, Asia asked.

Sunil said nothing, unable to speak for the sheer rage that was burning through him. Why hadn't he seen this coming? The e-mail with Jan's ring should have been enough, but he thought the text was from South Africa. It never even occurred to him that it could have originated in the United States. He knew the only way Eskia could have got that ring was by exhuming Jan's body. And because he had been there, because he had seen what Eugene did to Jan when Sunil couldn't turn her with the drugs and mind-altering methods he was perfecting, he knew that if he hadn't found that ring on the remains—a ring that Sunil had slipped into that anonymous hole in the ground as a kindness, as a way to make sure Jan's spirit could find its way into the underworld—Eskia would never have been able to identify the remains as Jan's. He wouldn't ever have found whatever closure he was trying to create. And now this.

Sunil, why does Eskia want to kill you?

Sunil shook his head. Something that happened a long time ago, he said, barely above a whisper.

Something very bad, she asked, realizing even as the words formed that it was a pointless question. She already knew the answer to it.

Yes, he said. Something very bad.

Did you do it?

It's complicated, he said.

Did you kill someone important to him, she interrupted, impatient.

I didn't kill her, he said.

She let out her breath.

But I did nothing to stop it either, he said.

Who was she?

Jan, he said.

Someone he loved?

Someone we both loved.

Jan. And when Asia said the name it brought an old and yet familiar ache back to Sunil and he stood there, wide open and weak, the light passing through him, refracting nothing.

Asia got up from the couch and approached him. She stood behind him for a while, barely an inch between them, and yet it was the chasm between worlds. She stepped forward and wrapped herself around him. Her feelings confused, churning, unsure whether to be angry with him or to comfort him, but yet wanting desperately to hold on to him.

Tell me everything, she said, afraid to ask, her breath hot on his back through his shirt.

Are you sure, he asked.

Yes, she said, thinking, No, I don't want to hear about her, but knowing this exorcism was the only way forward, for her, for Sunil, for both of them. This woman she knew was still alive for Sunil.

And so he told her.

And in the two hours that he spoke, they went from standing by the window to sharing tea in the kitchen and then finally to intertwining their limbs in bed, where they fell into a fitful sleep.

The shrill ring of a cell phone woke Sunil. In the dark bedroom he fumbled around for it. What, he said.

This is Salazar.

What the fuck, Salazar! What time is it?

Just after six. I'm sorry to wake you.

What is it, Sunil asked, glancing over at Asia as he got out of bed and shuffled into the living room. She was still deep asleep as he shut the door behind him.

I need you to come.

Come where?

I'm out by Lake Mead.

Bodies?

Yes. Several bodies, and there's one we both know.

Who?

I need you to come.

How will I find you?

There's a car waiting downstairs for you.

Okay. Fuck, Sunil muttered as he hung up and pulled some clothes on.

As promised, there was a police car waiting outside. He paused, thinking how much he hated the uniforms. Thinking how impossible it was to explain the sheer terror of a Casspir rolling into Soweto, bigger than a tank, more invulnerable it seemed, a sheer beast.

Is everything all right, Dr. Singh, the doorman asked as he opened the door.

Why don't you worry about doing your job so thieves don't just walk in, Sunil snapped, sliding into the back of the police car. They were already pulling away from the building when Sunil remembered Asia was alone upstairs and in danger from Eskia should he choose to return.

Wait, he said, stop.

And he made the cops wait while he called Salazar. He told him about the break-in and said he would come only if Salazar provided police protection for Asia. He omitted that he knew what she might be in danger from. Salazar made one of the cops from the car stay. The guy didn't look too happy about it, and Sunil made a mental note to come back with coffee and a snack for him. He texted Asia so that when she woke up to the cop outside, she wouldn't be startled, and then he was off.

As the car picked up speed, lights and siren going, the sun was coming up over the Luxor, washing the dark pyramid in gold.

Shit, Sunil thought, I need to check in with the twins and Brewster. Not to mention he had to get a visitor's pass for Fred. One day away from the institute and he was already behind. Whatever Salazar wanted him for had better be fucking incredible, he thought.

He wasn't aware he had fallen asleep until he felt Salazar shake him awake. The police car had arrived at Lake Mead and, from the looks of it, so had half the Las Vegas Police Department.