“I don’t recognize the name. But if he was a patient of ours, then I’m sure we have…oh, no, no, all the records must have been lost in the fire.” Genuine dismay passed over the doctor’s face. “All the patient records, serial numbers, invoices. Gone.”
Kenan pursed his lips for a moment. “What about a woman named Barika Chaou? Short, older, silver hair?”
The doctor froze for a fraction of a second, but there was a tiny flash of fear in the woman’s face.
“Ah, yes.” The doctor offered a smile, obviously false and full of nerves. “Yes, a lady in the government service, I believe? I do recall that name, although I think it has been some time since I last heard it.” Her speech began slowly, but accelerated the longer she went on. “Yes, I believe she was a patient several years ago, back when I was first starting out here in Arafez. It was quite an unexpected honor to have such a distinguished person in my shop back then. I was still wondering whether I would have any success at all in this country, and suddenly, here was this very important lady seeking my services! Oh, that was a good day. But what does any of this have to do with your investigation of the fire? Surely Senora Chaou was not hurt in the fire?”
Kenan shook his head. “No. Actually, I’m more interested in the electrical device you inserted into her arm so she could shock people with her fingers. And if there’s time, I’d like to hear about the bullet-proof armor in Medur Hamuy’s chest.”
The doctor froze yet again, this time her small mouth hanging open slightly.
Kenan cleared his throat. “Whenever you’re ready. Take a minute, if you need it. I have time.”
The round little Espani made several sounds as though she was beginning to speak and then suddenly forgot how.
“Kenan!” Syfax called out.
They both turned to look at him.
“Major?” Kenan beamed. “You’re all right! Are you all right? Are you hurt? You look a little tired.”
“I know how I look.” The major joined them and glared down at the woman in the green dress. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend here?”
“This is Doctor Elena Medina. She’s the one who put the armor plate in Hamuy’s chest and the shock device in Ambassador Chaou’s arm.” Kenan folded his arms across his chest. “She was just about to start lying to me about how we’ve got it all wrong, that it’s all a big misunderstanding.”
“Good work. Any word on Chaou?” Syfax glanced around at the empty street.
“We haven’t seen or heard from her.”
“Well, she’s in town. I lost her at the South Station this morning and I’ve been running down leads all day. I heard that wealthy government types like this club, the Onyx. We should check it out.” Syfax jerked his head back toward the club doors.
“Actually, major, I tried that but I couldn’t get in.” Kenan pointed at the park across the avenue. “So I waited in the park to catch the doctor coming out. I saw every person who’s gone in since noon, and Chaou hasn’t been here.”
“She could have arrived before you did. Let’s go.” Syfax strode away.
Kenan hurried after him, dragging the doctor by the arm. “But major, they’ve got private security in there.”
“I don’t care.”
“Here, sir, at least take my gun.”
He frowned over his shoulder at the corporal. “Nah, you keep it. I’m just going to take a look around. Not planning to kill anyone today.” He fished the Persian’s brass knuckles from his pocket and slipped his fingers through the rings. The metal was warm.
Syfax shoved through the double doors of the Onyx Club over the shrill cries of the two little boys in matching blue suits. He made it halfway across the carpeted foyer before three young men with thick necks and bulging arms hustled through an open doorway on his left.
The major frowned at them. “You know who I am?”
One of the men shrugged. “No police, no marshals, no exceptions.”
Syfax tightened his fist around the brass knuckles. A gun might speed this up, but then they’ll get their own guns, and then we’ll need bigger guns, and then the bodies start stacking up in the street like cordwood. And no one wants that.
For a moment, he considered apologizing to them ahead of time. Instead, he lunged at the closest one and smashed his fist into his windpipe, sending him reeling back against the wall, choking and gasping. Then the other two grabbed his coat from behind.
The major yanked forward and down, whipping his arms free of his coat and his attackers. As the men stumbled toward him off balance, Syfax delivered a flurry of heavy-handed punches to their heads. On a better day, he might have been a blur of martial artistry, but today there was only strength, relentless and barely disciplined. He smashed his knuckles into jaws and ears and necks and eyes as hard and fast as he could, taking only a few of their wild swings to his own upper body. He didn’t feel them at all.
One guard toppled over backward and bounced his skull on the wall. The other took a roundhouse to the side of his head and spun as he dropped to the floor. The three guards sat or lay on the carpet, clutching their heads and chests, shuddering and coughing.
Syfax massaged his hands. “Sorry, fellas. Nothing personal.” He picked up his coat and slowly pulled it back on.
The two boys in blue hid outside the doors, peering at them with wide unblinking eyes. Kenan arrived in the doorway a moment later, still wrestling with the heavy-set doctor. Syfax jerked his head at the corridor leading into the club. “Come on. Try to keep up.”
Syfax strode down the hall glancing into the open doorways on either side and seeing richly furnished sitting rooms and sun rooms and dining rooms, all decorated in very different styles: classical Yoruba, modernist Igbo, industrial Mazigh, azure Songhai, imperial Eran. Even one that looked like a Hellan theater and one that resembled an Espani chapel. Some were occupied, and the women who noticed the marshal studying them frowned back rather intensely. Most of the rooms were empty.
Syfax left the corporal on the first floor and sprinted up a wide stair to the next level and repeated his search. And again above that, and again above that. Until finally he stood at the center of the lush greenhouse on the roof, sweating, alone.
When he returned to the foyer, he found Kenan holding back his coat to display his holstered gun to the angry, battered security guards. His other hand held the doctor against the wall.
“She’s not here. We’re leaving.” Syfax strode out into the fading afternoon heat and stood on the sidewalk, glaring at the nearly deserted street. He took the spare moment to put on his new Persian glasses with the blue tinted lenses, but found they’d been broken in his pocket so he tossed them to one of the little boys in blue, who called out, “Thanks, mister!”
Kenan followed him out with the doctor in tow. “Where to now, sir?”
“I have no idea.” Syfax leaned toward the doctor, frowning into her round face. “But I bet you can tell us where we want to go. Let’s go find a nice spot to have a little chat.”
They crossed the street, found a footpath in the park, and deposited the doctor on the grass in a nook between some trees and a large brown stone where they were unlikely to be noticed, had there been anyone else in the park to notice them. Syfax leaned against the rock and felt the subtle warmth captured in the stone seeping into his sore back. He eyed the Espani woman, a lumpy figure of soft, bulbous curves and great sagging breasts that hovered around her lower ribs. The puffy flesh around her jaws and cheeks made her face seem unnaturally young and smooth, but her bright green eyes stared back at him with a piercing intelligence.
“So.” Syfax sniffed. “Barika Chaou electrocuted me yesterday afternoon on a ferry boat using a device in her arm. Tell me about that.”
Medina shook her head. “No, no, no. I know a thing or two about the police in this country. I have rights. Rights of prisoners, yes?” The doctor glanced back and forth between her captors. “There have to be witnesses and papers. I get an advocate. There are rules for this sort of thing. I’m allowed to contact my patron.”