Cold Snap (34 page)

"I'm on sabbatical."

"Oh yeah? You're telling me you're a college
professor? What school?"

"Come," said Ari, standing.

"That's not much of an answer. Or are you
telling me you teach at a school down the road? What, at one of
those shopping mall school-in-a-boxes? I know, you teach
stenography, right?"

"We need to go back to A-Zed."

"Why?"

"I need to show Rhee this." Ari removed a
sheet of paper. On it was printed a picture of three men looking
into a camera. He handed it to Lawson.

"This is Afghanistan," he said, studying the
image.

"Iraq."

"It's all sandbox to me." Lawson rested the
picture on the blotter and leaned over it. "Mujahideen."

"Maybe."

"There's no maybe about it. I saw enough of
these types while I was over there."

"'Roses by any other name'," Ari intoned.

"These aren't roses and they aren't sweet.
Hell, maybe you are some kind of half-assed Lit professor."

"I heard that on the radio the other day. I
found it very astute."

"Well, it's Shakespeare. We're supposed to
find him astute." Lawson leaned back over the picture. "You're
scaring the shit out of me, Mr. Ciminon. Are you saying these three
have something to do with ISAF?"

"That is something I am trying to
determine."

"On your own? Or at someone's behest?"

Ari found it gratifying to come across
someone who used English adroitly. He had not heard anyone else in
America use 'behest' in normal conversation.

"I am not ready to say."

"Does that mean it's not Rebecca Wareness?
That you're not at liberty to tell me? Goddamn it!"

"This pertains to Ethan's disappearance, I
believe."

"This?" Lawson slapped the printout. "Listen,
the A-Zed folks are from the Far East, not Near. And these jokers
are definitely Near."

Nearer than you think, thought Ari. If Abu
Jasim was right.

"You are astute to observe thus," said Ari.
"However, I suspect Rhee is involved with the importation of
illegals."

"So you mentioned before. I presume you don't
mean just from Korea."

"I believe I also mentioned that if Ethan is
involved with the men in this picture, and if he compromised the
computers at A-Zed, I fear..."

"For Ethan's life," said Lawson.

"For many lives. You understand that history
is replete with sadistic killers."

"No history lessons, please."

"Very well." Ari leaned forward and tapped
the printout. "I believe these are mercenaries of the worst kind,
who wrap their crimes in faith."

"I can't disagree there," said Lawson.

"If Ethan fell into their hands..."

"Right. But why do you want me to come
along?"

"You want to see how much progress has been
made on your new limbs," said Ari.

"Right...right..."

"The dolls don't frighten you?"

"I hate stupid fuckers," the veteran
responded. "Whoever left these...well, stupid fuckers. You meet
stupid fuckers all the time. But you don't get much chance to kick
the shit out of them."

While Lawson reached into his drawer, Ari
took up the picture, refolded it, and slipped it back into his coat
pocket.

Lawson took out a gun.

"A Beretta M9," Ari said blandly.

"PVD coated to withstand a sandy
environment," said Lawson. "Betcha didn't think I had this."

"Betcha I did," Ari answered.

"Are you packing?"

He took Ari's silence as confirmation. To
save time, he allowed Ari to help him on with his coat, but he
defeated his purpose by declaring he would go out the front
door.

"Your car is out back," said Ari.

"The last thing those company jack-holes want
is for me to be seen stalking through their hallways, where the
public might see me. Maybe it's time the public was
enlightened."

"Agreed," Ari nodded. "But that will cost us
ten minutes."

"Maybe it's time for you to be
enlightened."

They went into the front room.

"Ms. Perch," he announced to his secretary,
"I'll be out for around an hour. Maybe longer."

'Perch'? Ari could not think of her as
anything but Cicada. She stared at him.

"I'm going out the front way."

Ms. Cicada continued to stare at him. This
annoyed Ari, who gave her the boogey-eye. She switched her stare to
him.

Lawson proceeded to the main hallway door
with a wide flourish. His coat caught on Ms. Cicada's gooseneck
lamp and sent it tottering. When he reflexively reached to catch
it, his prosthetic arm caught on the lip of the desk, twisting him
downwards, causing him to miss the lamp. It clattered on the floor,
the LED bulb popping out of its socket. Trying to back away so he
could bend over and retrieve it, his prosthetic leg locked,
freezing him at a ludicrous angle just short of toppling over.

"Goddammit," he swore lowly, trying to work
himself out of the position. When he suddenly broke free, his arm
caught on a picture frame at the edge of the desk, knocking it
over.

"Goddammit!" he swore, causing his prosthetic
jaw to bulge.

"Mr. Lawson," Ms. Cicada began.

"Leave me...let me..." When he jerked around
his eye landed on Ari. "Goddammit! Goddammit! Goddammit!" he
roared, holding his hand against the rim of his jaw. "Goddamn
fucking...goddamn people missing, fucking camel wonks, fucking
goddamn, fucking goddamn, fucking goddamn government, fucking
goddamn ISAF and slopeheads and stupid, fucking wife and fucking
all, all of it, all of it!"

His eye was on fire. Spittle flew from his
mouth. There was a croaking from his damaged lungs. His murderous
sorrow made Ari want to reach out and slip the gun from his coat
pocket.

Instead, both he and Ms. Cicada waited for
the storm to pass. He thought a single word or sound of
commiseration would send Lawson into a tailspin of self-wrenching
violence. The secretary seemed to comprehend that there was more
grief than anger in Lawson's behavior and that nothing could be
said or done to help. She rose in Ari's estimation.

Very well…Ms. Perch, then.

Lawson stood silent for a long time, his
muteness broken by labored breathing. He was sending his mind on
exploratory search missions throughout his body, confirming this
was no nightmare but a much worse reality. Finally, he lowered his
head. "Let's use the back door."

Ari held the inner office door open and they
retreated to the purpose-built passageway leading to the rear
parking lot.

"Oh God, I forgot," Lawson moaned, staring
down at Ari's Scion.

"You need to go back inside?"

"I mean, I forgot what a terrible driver you
are."

"I haven't had a single accident since I
arrived in America," Ari said defensively.

"And when was that?"

"Oh, six or seven months ago." He paused. "Do
you wish to go in your car?"

"I'm afraid you're standing between what I
want and what's prudent. Besides, if we need to get away fast,
you're the man."

Having had practice on Ari's earlier visit,
it did not take him as long to get inside the small car.

"You anticipate a need for a quick getaway?"
Ari asked, starting up the engine and its precious heater.

"Rhee said he would call when the new leg was
ready. He'll figure we're snooping. He won't like it. He might sic
his Bruce Lee twins on us."

"Ah, Bruce Lee," Ari chuckled. "I
understand."

"You watched Bruce Lee in Palermo?"

"Syracuse. And yes, I saw his movies. The
whole world watched him."

Ari pulled out of the lot, keeping one eye on
his rearview mirror.

"Ever watch Michelangelo Antonioni?" Lawson
asked, trying to ignore the sharp swerves Ari made to forge ahead.
"Bertolucci? Faenza? De Sica? Certainly, you've heard of
Fellini."

"I've heard of him," Ari acknowledged.

"Those guys made what we call 'art house'
movies. They put porn in the same category, but I won't go there.
I'm surprised you never watched any of the great Italian
directors."

"Alas, my life has been one big
preoccupation."

"There's still time for a bit of culture.
Don't they watch anything but Bruce Lee in Naples?"

"Syracuse. We have many kinds of movies, but
I have little free time."

"What kind of music do you like?"

"I..."

"You know the 'three B's'? Beethoven, Bach,
Brahms?"

"I have heard of them, also."

"Debussy?"

"Yes."

"Ravel?"

"Yes."

"Stravinsky."

"Vaguely familiar."

"Stockhausen?"

"I don't think..."

"John Cage?"

"Is he a professional wrestler?"

"There, I have a good outline of your
classical music knowledge. You know the names of the old masters
and a few standard moderns, but no avant-garde. I left out Puccini
and Verdi, of course. Too obvious for an Eye-Tie."

"Most certainly."

"Hasn't it ever occurred to you to listen to
any of the music, instead of just knowing their names?"

"You must—" Ari paused to make a hair-raising
turn onto the highway ramp. "You must enlighten me."

"I can loan you some CD's."

"I don't have a player."

"What?" Lawson cried out in disbelief. "Well,
you have one in the goddamn car, here..." He pointed at the
console, then frowned. "Goddamn..."

"I have few amenities."

"Yeah, well stop rubbing sticks together and
get a Bic."

"I have a Glock." He glanced at Lawson. "You
have an M9. A lemon."

"It is not."

"The pistol slide is famous for its failure
rate."

"That was faulty ammunition."

"I will confront your gun to mine any time,"
said Ari.

"Awkwardly put, but understood." Lawson gave
him a long look. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"I would be aggrieved if it did." He flew
onto an off ramp and made a tight turn at 55. The speed limit
cautioned 25.

"I looked at your MVR," Lawson said.

"Acronyms annoy me, I should tell you."

"ISAF is certainly in your vocabulary.
Anyway, MVR is Motor Vehicle Record. I pulled yours up after your
first visit. No points at all. Not a single speeding ticket."

"Does this amaze you?"

"It sure does. It proves the inadequacy of
our record-keeping." He shifted his cane. "Or the people who
arranged your clean record at Immigration are more thorough than I
imagined."

As before, the clutter of weekday traffic
subsided in the dismal checkerboard streets of small
industries.

"No bones about this, right?" said Lawson as
they pulled up on the side street facing A-Zed. "No waiting in the
car for me this time."

"You're the alibi," Ari agreed, getting out.
"Tell Rhee you're fed up with your shitty leg and can't wait any
longer."

"That's not how you talk to an American
businessman," said Lawson.

"No?"

"I mean, everyone talks to businessmen that
way, but it never gets you anywhere. It's a waste of breath."

"Then what story do you propose?"

"That you're fed up with my shitty leg and
don't want to wait any longer."

Ari nodded, flashing a grin as Lawson pulled
himself out. Trying not to be obvious, he adjusted his stride so
that Lawson could keep pace with him. Reaching A-Zed's glass door,
he shoved.

"Locked."

Lawson read off the hours of operation
stenciled on the glass. "Too early for lunch."

Ari pressed his hands against the glass and
peered inside. "The lights are on."

"Maybe they went belly-up."

"'Belly-up'?"

"That business you told me about, with them
tossing out all their computers. These small operations work on a
shoestring. If their clients found out they might drop them,
RIP."

"They would take all of their moveable assets
with them when they closed up their shop, don't you think?" asked
Ari, his face still cupped in his hands against the glass.

"Probably," said Lawson.

"There is a desktop computer still in the
front room."

"Hmmm."

"And there is a laptop computer with a wire
running from it...it's lit up."

"You mean they're connected?" Lawson grunted.
"It's probably nothing. They're uploading or downloading. It just
means there's someone there. Go ahead and knock."

"If there was someone in the room and he saw
us approaching on his surveillance camera..."

"He doesn't want to be seen," Lawson
concluded. "It doesn't make sense. They saw us last week. They know
we're not bill collectors. You know, if they don't want to be seen,
maybe we don't want to be seen, either."

A shadow moved briefly in the hallway leading
to the back rooms, but no face appeared.

"What will you do if there is violence?" Ari
asked.

"I'll shoot 'em."

"Even if they only offer their fists?"

"Hey," Lawson shrugged his arm. "I'm a
cripple."

"Can you handle both your cane and your
gun?"

"You would ask." Lawson pursed his lips. "I
guess I'll find out, won't I? You saw someone, didn't you?"

"I am thinking of shooting at this door," Ari
said.

Lawson tapped at a sticker on the glass.

"'Protected by Richmond Alarm'," Ari
read.

"The system might not be armed, but if it is,
and you break in, the alarm company will get a signal in their
central station."

"And?"

"And then they call the police."

Ari nodded. "That explains it, then. I
noticed the front of a black and white sticking out from one of the
alleys when we pulled up."

"A police cruiser? Here already? Why the fuck
didn't you tell me! Somebody's tripped the alarm ahead of us. Let's
haul ass."

"I would agree," Ari nodded, moving away from
the door. "But I want that laptop."