The guard checked Sarah’s identification, his mouth moving as he read. “You’re collecting money?”
“For the United Islamic Benevolence Society, just as it says.”
The wind and rain battered the guard as he stood beside her open window. His green uniform looked brand-new, but the collar was wilting in the damp. He looked over the battered car she was driving. “You got permission to go door-to-door, sister?”
“Asking for donations is as much of a responsibility for good Muslims as making donations,” Sarah said piously. The chador she had borrowed from Jill was a deep plum color that set off her eyes. “I’m sure you know that.”
The guard scratched his puffy face with the card, the sound like sandpaper. He was a big, strapping fellow with slow eyes and a half-eaten sandwich waiting for him on the desk in the guard shack. “We had a problem here earlier this week. A…situation. Woman got killed. Two of her servants were butchered along with her.”
“I’m certain the neighborhood is safe now, Officer. After all…you’re on duty.”
The guard chewed his lip. “I got to be careful who I let in. I could get in trouble.”
“Do I look like trouble, Officer?”
The guard peered at her, taking the question seriously.
“This is a devout neighborhood,” said Sarah. “It’s after dinner. The brothers and sisters will be happy to have the opportunity to satisfy their obligations from the comfort of their own homes. What could be wrong with that?”
“I…I don’t know, sister.”
Sarah inclined her head, blessed him. “Then lift the gate, Officer.”
The guard backed up, stumbling, muttering a blessing in return.
Sarah drove on through.
“When Sarah arrived at the ranch…how did she seem?”
“I got a call from her at three A.M. We hadn’t talked for over a year, but I recognized her voice immediately. I’m a light sleeper…even if it hadn’t been the middle of the night, I could tell she was upset. She said she was at a gas station about five miles away. Protecting me again. So the man who dropped her off wouldn’t know where she was going.” Jill listened to the rain on the roof. “We stayed up until dawn, talking. She was very upset.”
“Was she injured?”
“She said she had killed a man a few hours earlier. Does that count?”
“No.”
Jill shook her head. Once Fedayeen, always Fedayeen. She didn’t even have to say it. “Sarah went to bed after dawn prayers, slept until late. We went riding the next morning, not talking, just enjoying the day. She seemed better. Then she left for a few hours and when she came back…she was worse than she was the first night she showed up. Sarah is strong, but when she came back, she couldn’t stop crying. She wanted to leave. She said everyone she was close to was at risk-”
“Where did she go Friday?” Rakkim’s voice was so soft that she wouldn’t have heard him except that he had moved closer, close enough to smell horses on her again.
“I don’t know. She said an old friend…a dear friend had been murdered and she blamed herself-” Jill pulled back as he jumped up, knocking the chair over. “Rakkim! Where are you going?”
CHAPTER 27
“Excuse me, Officer Hanson…” Darwin carefully reached under the handsome young policeman, slipped his badge-wallet out of his pants. Flipped it open, “William Hanson. I like that. William. A good, steak-and-taters American name. Pleasure to meet you. I bet they call you Bill, don’t they? How about Willy? I prefer that. Willy. Sounds friendly. Innocent. Do you think of yourself as innocent, Willy? Most people do.” Darwin laughed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tile as he tucked the badge and ID into his own jacket. “A man like me…I have no illusions.”
Hanson’s right hand inched toward his sidearm, hanging half out of its holster.
“Well, look at you. Aren’t you the tenacious lawman.” Darwin reached down, pulled the gun free, checked it out. Standard police-issue 9mm semiautomatic, with a personal-ID grip. The weapon couldn’t be fired unless the registered owner’s thumbprint was pressed into position. The 9mm was useless to anyone other than Hanson. Darwin expelled a round, looked down the barrel, then jacked a fresh bullet into the chamber. “You keep a well-maintained weapon, Officer. You like those expansion slugs, I see. Give you a sense of security, do they? I wager you never fired your weapon in the line of duty, though. Am I right? That changes things, trust me.”
Hanson groaned.
“Let me help.” Darwin bent forward, placed the pistol in the man’s hand. “There you go.”
Hanson’s fingers curled around the grip, made contact. He tried to raise the 9mm, but it was too heavy for him.
“Take your time. Get your strength back. Just keep breathing. Terrible calculus-each inhalation tears you up a little more inside, cuts into the soft pink parts, but a man has to breathe.”
Hanson’s forehead beaded. A ball of sweat ran down into his eyes, sent him blinking.
Darwin daubed at the man’s face with his handkerchief, his movements strangely tender as Hanson’s eyes tracked him. “Don’t worry, I don’t have anything embarrassing planned for you. Homosexuals, heterosexuals…you each make your choices, the wheel of love and desire.” He stroked Hanson’s cheek. “Me…well, truth be told, men and women, they’re all the same to me. Flesh buckets. You can have them.” Laughed. “Take a note, Willy. You can have my share.”
Hanson shifted, cried out. Blood poured out of his mouth.
“Stay put. Down, boy. You’re going to die soon enough; you don’t need to be in a hurry. Let’s chat a bit. I so rarely get the chance to talk with someone who knows me…the real me. Inauthenticity devours the soul, Willy, but what can I do?”
Hanson bit his lip, trying to stay conscious.
“That’s the spirit.” Darwin watched the policeman’s blood trickle toward the drain. “I didn’t do this for your badge, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just that in my present job…there’s a high frustration level. Having to hold back, hold myself in check…it gives me a headache. I’m a man with appetites, Willy. Vast appetites. Terrible appetites. And I’m not allowed to satisfy them.” Darwin smiled. “You’ll just have to do for now. You don’t mind, do you?”
Hanson gripped the 9mm. His blue eyes were going muddy, but he held on to the pistol.
“I’m a Fedayeen assassin. You should be honored to die at my hands. You could have been run over by a bus or had an artery burst in your brain. You could have choked on a piece of tough steak or had an allergic reaction to peanut butter. Instead…here you are.” Darwin tapped the man’s front teeth as though he were playing a xylophone. “If you can get outside yourself for just a moment, get beyond the pain, I think you’ll realize that a certain amount of gratitude is in order.”
Hanson tried to focus.
“Perhaps that’s too much to ask.” Darwin watched the young policeman struggle to raise the 9mm. Blood ran down the drain faster now, curls and eddies. “That’s it…there you go. Just a little higher. Come on, you can do it. Pull the trigger, Willy. Pull it. Pull it.”
The gun wobbled. Clattered into the tub. Hanson took short, little breaths.
“Disappointing, isn’t it?” clucked Darwin. “Welcome to my world.” The wireless Cyclops inside his jacket vibrated. Still balanced on the edge of the bathtub, he slipped out the silver case, flipped it open. “Well, will you look at this?” He grinned, turned the plasma screen to Hanson. “This is the inside of the Warriq house. Real-time. It’s a night-vision image so there’s a green cast, but you can see her quite clearly. That’s Sarah Dougan standing inside the front door. Wearing a very elegant chador, I might add. The hajib flatters her features, wouldn’t you say? Hi, Sarah! Say hi to Sarah, Willy. No?”