"Things weren't the same after that. A couple of the kids quit and the Masked Man disappeared. But then one night he was back again, sitting in his old chair, doing his thing as if nothing had occurred. It was shortly after that that Kimberly came to me."
"Why?"
He squinted at me.
"I don't know what you mean?"
"Why you?"
He addressed my question with a maximum display of dignity.
"She knew me, that's why. I worked for Mrs. Z sometimes.
What kind of work?"
Photographic work. Stills, videotaping. Scenes her clients wanted captured on film. So Kimberly came to me, because she knew me as the house photographer. She said she wanted pictures of the Masked Man so she could blackmail him on the murder. She said she wanted to make him pay for what he'd done to Sonya. Pay heavily, she said."
"What was the deal?"
"Find out who he was, Get pictures of him, preferably ones that showed him putting on or taking off his mask. After I got them, we'd present him with a set of prints and make our demands. Kimberly was talking about asking for a million dollars. I thought that was grandiose. But we agreed, whatever we'd get, to split it down the middle."
"So you got the pictures?"
"I got them. I staked out the back entrance, and, using infrared, got some good shots of him coming in. The I n Kimberly managed to get me inside one time when Mrs. Z wasn't there, and that's when I planted a camera in the ceiling of the dressing room that I could operate by remote.
"I got lucky, got the goods. The shot of him in the performance room was easy. Once I saw his face, and knew who he was, I followed him around, got more pictures of him on normal film. But the crucial picture, my tour de force, was the one of him taking off the mask." I picked that photograph up, looked at it again.
"Who is he?"
"You don't know?"
"I've seen the face, but I don't connect it to a name."
"The name's Arnold Darlin The moment he said it I remembered: I'd seen him in a brilliant color photograph on the cover of Fortune a couple of years before. I recalled the picture well. Darling was posed before an intimidating black office tower. I could even remember the caption underneath: "Arnold Darling: The Corporate Buccaneer's Favorite Architect." A ruthless man, a man to be feared-the article had been clear about that. Formerly a professor of architec ture, he had made a mid-life career change from academic to mastcr builder. He'd been phenomenally successful. With daring designs, based on an instinctive feel for the kind of secretive power and controlled menace the new generation of corporate raiders wished to project, he'd obtained several highly visible commissions. It wasn't long before he was regarded as form-giver for the takeover age, winning jobs away from more traditional favorites, such as Skidmore, Owings; Johnson and Burgee; and I. M. Pei.
But there was more to Darling than mere success. He was considered a major cultural figure. He had donated the design and construction costs of the Darling Auditorium at New York University, and had endowed the triennual Darling Prize, described as "a Nobel for sculptors." He was often cited too as one of the most aggressive collectors of Japanese scroll paintings and screens. A powerful man, refined and generous, and now it turned out he not only liked to see girls hurt but he liked to hurt them himself. No wonder Kimberly had been scared.
"Okay," I said, "that was the blackmail scheme. Now, why were you photographing Kim and me?"
Rakoubian looked at me, hesitated, then lowered his eyes.
"Insurance," he muttered.
"What kind of insurance?"
He turned cautious.
"It was her idea. She said we needed another photographer."
"Why?"
He paused again.
"We weren't sure how Darling would react. We didn't want the blackmail traced to us. So Kimberly came up with the idea that we should deal with Darling through Mrs. Z. She'd transmit our demands and act as conduit for the money, and for that we'd give her ten percent. "
"What does all that have to do with me?"
"The plan was that after Kimberly approached Mrs. Z, she'd disappear.
That way, if Mrs. Z was co-opted by Darling, Kimberly would be safe from any reprisals. But there was always the possibility that Mrs. Z and Darling would try and track her down. In that case Mrs. Z would go to Shadow, Kimberly's roommate and best friend, to find out where Kimberly had gone."
"Get to the point, Rakoubian. Why the pictures?"
"Documentation."
"Of what?"' "That you were a photographer and that the two of you were a pair.
Kimberly left them around her apartment, and she even planted one in Shadow's wallet That way, if Shadow was pressed, she'd have something to show. It was a diversion and also a way to do a dry run, to see how Darling would react."
"That's what you mean by 'insurance'?" I stared at him. He didn't answer.
"I don't believe you. Kim and I met by accident."
"She told me. That's how she got the idea. She ran into you photographing on the street, and this light bulb went off in her brain-that there should be what she called a 'cover photographer." So she went to work on you, got you interested in her, and then when the two of you went out to photograph, she had me take those pictures. Of course Shadow wasn't in on that. The idea was she'd steer them to you unwittingly."
Even as I listened to him I couldn't believe what he was saying. I think my mind glazed over to protect itself from the consequences of an enormous rage.
"… Shadow didn't know anything about the blackmail. She thought the only purpose was to identify the Masked Man so he could be turned in to the cops. Kimberly felt that if Shadow was confronted, she'd tell Mrs. Z that her roommate was seeing a photographer, and then Mrs. Z would draw the obvious conclusions that Kimberly had helped you plant a camera in the changing room, and that you had taken the blackmail shots.
"Got to hand it to her. It was a terrific plan. First, because if things went wrong, Darling's attention would be diverted to you, and I'd have time to escape. Second, for the way it brought Mrs. Z into the plot. She, after all, had brokered the deal between Darling and Sonya that led to Sonya being killed. Since she was implicated in the death, and we were offering her a cut, we didn't think she'd hold back any of the money. The threat was clear-if she did hold back, we'd turn her in as well. But Darling wouldn't see it that way. He'd suspect Mrs. Z of acting for herself. For that reason, Mrs. Z would become a kind of fall guy too, who'd provide us with another layer of safety. "
"Fall guy! Is that what I was supposed to be?"
He looked scared.
"I'm just using Kimberly's words."
"She decided everything, according to you. Think I'm buying that?"
"Please! Listen!"
"I've been listening. And all I've heard is: 'according to Kimberly,'
'Kimberly thought,' 'Kimberly decided,' 'it was all Kimberly's idea..
.." You want me to believe a twenty-five-year-old kid thought all this up by herself? Meantime a slick old phony con man of a photographer was just doing what he was told?"
He grinned at me then, the same shit-eating grin he'd showed me earlier.
That time I didn't hit him. There would have been no point. The trick was to keep him on his toes so his lies wouldn't get out of hand. So far he'd been usefuclass="underline" he'd given me a coherent explanation for most of the things that had had me confused. The story was coming together. But the part about my being their 'cover photographer'-had Kim really used me that way? The thought was devastating, almost unthinkable. Still, I had to know.
"Kimberly felt that if Shadow was confronted, she wouldn't name you right away," Rakoubian said.
"They'd have to frighten her a little to get her to talk. But eventually she'd tell them about the two of you-if only to save herself."