I felt the weight of his foot on the carpet. Expected him to give it a kick, and he did.
“Bitch. Answer me. You dead under there? You not, you will be.” He was scared. I don’t know why I was surprised. Death is communicable, one of the oldest superstitions. It would’ve been funny-if it wasn’t actually happening. But it was.
“Hey… you hear me?” He kicked the carpet again. Another long silence, then he began talking to himself. “Ain’t nothing to be scared of. If she’s dead, she already with the Gran’ Bois. She got no reason to do me harm. I got my beads and bones. I’m protected. Nothing evil’s gonna mess with me.”
I heard a rattling noise, like dice-maybe Wolfie was clutching a necklace-but then he began second-guessing himself, whispering, “But where’s Fabron if there ain’t no danger? The Maji Blanc… could be. A damn anansi noir could be crawling on the woman’s body right now, eating the woman’s heart. Shit.”
In a louder voice, I heard him say, “Gonna kill that French batty boy.” Then he yelled, “Fab-b-b-ron. Fab-RON! Better answer me, you punk-ass! You nothing but a whoring milk bottle with a dick-get back here and do your damn job!”
I had the knife and blinding Triad flashlight ready. Wolfie had to pull the carpet back sooner or later.
It was sooner. Because I’d been under the carpet, the night sky seemed brighter when Wolfie yanked the carpet away. When I moved, the man exhaled a muted scream and stumbled backward, as if Norma’s spirit had grabbed him. He jumped again when I rolled to my feet, blinded him with the flashlight, and pointed the knife.
“Seen any good movies lately, Wolfie?”
“Who… who the hell are you?” He used his hands to shield his eyes from the light.
“A film critic. What’s it matter?”
I lowered the light enough for him to see the knife. He put his hands up automatically, but still couldn’t see me. He’d been scared, now he was close to panic. He began moving sideways, trying to get an angle so he could run toward the safety of the monastery. I moved with him, keeping my back to the place.
“You ain’t her. There was a woman here, she’s supposed to be-”
“Dead? Maybe I am dead.”
I pointed the light at the ground, and he squinted at me. “You can’t be dead. You’re bleedin’.”
I touched the scratches on my face and looked at my fingers. “It’s not my blood.”
Wolfie stopped trying to slip around me and began backing away. “You’re lying.”
“Fabron said the same thing.”
“Fabron? Did you…?”
I swept the flashlight toward the Lookout. Because Wolfie expected me to say something, I said nothing. Instead, I switched the light off. Let the man deal with darkness now.
“You killed him?”
“No.”
“Then what the hell you mean-”
I said, “Rocks killed him when he hit,” as I pointed the light at Wolfie and touched the button. His face contorted as if he’d been shocked.
“Man, why you doing this to me! I don’t even know you!”
“I know you.”
“How? Okay, man, you’re pissed off about something. Put that knife away, and we talk about it. Discuss what we do next.”
I said, “There is no next. Not for you.”
“But, man, we’ve never even met!”
I didn’t reply. No way he could recognize me from our morning at the Bank of Aruba.
I started toward him, not sure what I would do. Eighteen times, I’d been precisely where I was now, close enough to feel a man’s last breath on my cheek. But it wasn’t like Fabron, who’d done his best to kill me. And I wasn’t carrying out orders. This time, the decision was mine.
Wolfie swung his head away. Behind him, the flashlight created a bright corridor of escape. Nothing back there but black forest, black sky, and the distant percussion of barking dogs.
He yelled, “I didn’t do nothing, I swear!” Then he ran. I folded the knife and ran after him.
Wolfie had speed for a man his size. Faster than me. For the first minute, I thought I was going to lose him. But he lacked endurance. There was also something else that slowed him-the chain-link fence where it curved in close to the Lookout.
That’s where I caught him. By the fence. He’d slowed to a jog, winded, lungs whistling. He reminded me of a wounded rhino as he crashed through brush inside the fence perimeter. He was turning to face me when I lowered my shoulder and cracked him from behind.
Cornered animals fight, and Wolfie did. I leveraged him onto his belly, then got my legs threaded through his, so he couldn’t stand. When he tried to elbow me off, I caught his left wrist. I had the tape out and ready, and I used a half nelson to control his arm. I got a couple of wraps with the tape. Then I caught his right wrist.
I was taping his hands together when I heard a rushing, ascending noise that sounded like a mountain river. I swung the flashlight toward the fence just as two Brazilian mastiffs lunged for the top of the chain-link, trying to get at us, their orange eyes burning. Only then did they growl-more of a pack roar, really. It surprised me and scared me so badly that I vaulted off Wolfie. I rolled, and came up holding the switchblade, expecting the dogs to be over the fence.
No… the fence was just high enough for them to get their heads and paws over, but they couldn’t lift their own weight.
I used the light. There were four dogs, not two. Rabid, slavering-a horror movie shown by a projector’s bright beam on a screen that was black, not silver.
I moved the light to Wolfie. He was struggling to get his hands free. I’d used enough tape, so all he could do was look at me and yell, “I know those dogs, man! If I tell them to jump the damn fence, they’ll do it! You cut me loose! Hear?”
I was afraid to take my eyes off the mastiffs. “They’re your animals?” I had to talk louder to be heard.
“They’ll do any damn thing I tell them!”
Wolfie the dog lover. I said, “You’d better hope so.” I knelt and used the switchblade to cut his hands free, then touched the point of the knife to the hollow spot under his ear. “Get over that fence.”
"What?”
“You heard me. Move.”
“Why you doin’ this to me? Motherfucker, we never even met!”
I wanted him to know. “A couple weeks ago, you filmed four girls, then blackmailed them. They’re friends of mine. One of them’s dead because of what you did.”
I kept the knife to his neck as he got to his feet. He said, “Because of some damn women? That’s why you’re doing this?”
“Four girls from Florida. I met you at the bank.”
“Man… I remember you. Those girls, too! But here’s what you gotta understand: They come to this island asking for somethin’, and the boys just gave ’em what they asked for. And you blame me? All this over some damn split-tails? You’re shitting me, man!”
You’re shitting me. Tomlinson had said almost the same thing the night hammerheads charged us. I would’ve rather dealt with sharks than the dogs. But Wolfie chose the dogs-once I convinced him I would use the knife.
From the way he calmed the animals as he climbed to the top of the fence, cooing and calling their names, I thought I’d made a mistake. But then Wolfie made a mistake-he turned his back as he climbed down.
Packs don’t have friends.
That’s what I was thinking as I ran toward the monastery, sickened by the sounds.
31
When I opened the door to my room, a woman’s voice startled me, saying, “Leave the lights off.”
I knew who it was.
“I need a safe place. Is it okay?”
I said, “Sure,” even though I wasn’t sure.
She yawned. It sounded more like a groan. “Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.”