‘Hey, Shark,’ The Nosh said, ‘you remember the time I bugged the teachers’ lounge at Grady and we caught old man Dettman screwin’ the phys. ed. teacher?’
‘Are you kidding? That’s how I passed geometry.’
‘I was just thinkin’ how at the time we thought they were such degenerates. She was a real hunk, Shark. A real hunk.’ He smoothed dirt over the amplifier. ‘Lookin’ back, I can’t say 1 blame old Dettman.’
‘Maybe we should’ve worked out a trade-out with her. Who ever uses geometry anyway?’
‘What was her name?’
‘Old Torpedo Tits.’
‘No, her real name?’
‘Jesus, I don’t remember.’
There was no way to see into the parking lot. He went back into the living room. ‘Old Torpedo Tits,’ The Nosh said, heading into the master bedroom.
Down below, a blue Mercedes 450SL drifted into the complex and stopped in front of the east tower. Sharky’s walkie-talkie came to life.
‘Zebra One, this is Zebra Three,’ Livingston said. ‘You got company.’
‘Okay Nosh, she’s back,’ Sharky said. He pressed the button on his box. ‘Zebra Two, this is Zebra Three. We need a little time.’
‘You got it,’ Papa said.
A porter came out of the building, running through the rain, and held the door for her. She got out, a long silk- sheathed leg preceding her. She stood an inch taller than the porter as she slipped him a dollar.
‘She’s heading for the lobby,’ Livingston said. The Nosh was on his knees, dabbing paint on the mike. ‘I’m wrapping it up,’ he said.
Sharky started to leave the room, then went back to the night table. He opened the drawer, took one of the joints from the cigarette case, and dropped it in his pocket.
‘Let’s hustle, brother.’ The Nosh was checking out his case.
‘I’m missing a paintbrush,’ he said. ‘It’s gotta be right around these plants somewhere.’
‘Shit,’ Sharky said.
Papa had seen the blue Mercedes pull up in front of the apartment, watched as she got out carrying a large Courrèges bag, tipped the porter, and then walked through the rain. He pressed several buttons on one elevator and sent it up, then waited in the other one. She entered the building, smiling at the security guard, walking with her chin slightly raised, looking straight ahead with azure eyes that glittered with life. She was taller than he remembered and very straight and as she approached the elevator she looked straight at Papa, but her gaze seemed to go through him, past him, off someplace beyond him. Papa was suddenly embarrassed, not from tension, but because she was prob.. ably the most stunning creature he had ever seen.
Jesus, he thought, no wonder she gels six bills a pop.
She stopped, hesitating a moment at the elevator that was already going up. ‘Going up,’ Papa said. ‘We’re just checking this one out.’
‘Thank you.’
A voice like down feathers.
She stood beside him.
The back of Papa’s neck got very warm. ‘What floor?’
‘Ten, please.’
He pressed the button and the doors closed. The elevator started up. Papa shifted slightly so his body shielded the control buttons and, reaching out very cautiously, he pressed the stop button. The elevator glided to a halt.
‘Oh, no!’ she breathed.
Papa pressed the button on his walkie-talkie.
‘Say, uh, up there, uh, this here’s Johnson. I got a passenger, uh, and, uh, like the power just cut off.’
‘Is something wrong?’ Delicately.
‘Nab,’ Papa said, ‘they just shut us off there for a second. Don’t you worry none, little lady.’ His walkie-talkie came alive. It was Sharky’s voice.
‘Uh, yeah, sorry about that, Johnson, we, uh, just bad to, uh, reset the flatistan up here. Uh, it’s okay now, uh, you can crank it up again.’
Papa pushed the ten button and the elevator started up again.
‘Sorry about that,’ Papa said.
She smiled at him, looking directly into 1is eyes.
‘It’s perfectly all right.’
Hardly more than a whisper. Papa felt a thrill like he had not felt for many years.
‘Nice weather,’ he stammered for lack of something better to say.
She laughed. ‘Yes. I love the rain.’
Beautiful, Papa thought, nice weather all right. There’s a typhoon outside.
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. Sharky and The Nosh were standing there. Domino looked first at The Nosh and then at Sharky. She stared at him for a fraction of a second and then her lips parted very slightly in a smile.
‘Hello,’ she said as she walked past him.
Sharky was immobilized, nailed to the floor, stunned as though he had been clubbed. It was more than her elegance, her beauty, something else. A softness he had not expected, a vulnerability he sensed, in her eyes and the softness of her voice. The Nosh had to pull on his sleeve to get him into the elevator. Her scent was still there. He watched her until the doors closed.
‘Okay,’ The Nosh said, ‘we’re in business. We go back on the roof, check everything out, and then maybe we swing by Taco Bell, grab a quick burrito supreme.’
Papa smiled. ‘You got my vote.’
But Sharky did not hear either of them. He was like a statue, staring at the closed door. In just a few seconds Domino had claimed a new victim.
Chapter Eight
DeLaroza was hunched down in the rear of the power launch. A forgotten Havana twirled unlit between his fingers. He stared straight ahead, a man hypnotized by his own thoughts, as the boat moved towards the northern end of the lake.
Suddenly his concentration was jarred by a speedboat which charged from a nearby inlet, skipping like a stone across the choppy surface of the lake. He watched through cold eyes as the boat arced wide around them and sped south, its engine buzzing like an angry bee, the driver perched on his haunches at the stern.
By the time the surly north wind had whipped the speedboat’s wake into frothy whitecaps, DeLaroza was deep in thought again, repeating over and over a single word:
‘Gowmanah.. . gowmanah. . . gowmanah...’
It was a form of Shinto meditation he had learned in Japan. In a few seconds the intrusion was forgotten. He was entranced, his mind cleansed.
Once his concentration was purged, be dealt with the problem at hand as he dealt with all problems. His method had been developed thirty years before in Brazil, where he had spent five years and a fortune becoming Victor DeLaroza and developing a personality that fitted the man he created. These had been the difficult years, the dangerous years just after the war, when his constant companions had been paranoia and fear. It was the Jews he feared most, for they could have become the unwitting instrument of a cruel and ironic joke. The Nazis had come to Brazil, seeking anonymity, trying to rebuild their failed dream. And behind them ceme the Jewish commandos, cold, efficient. zealously checking every record, perusing all newcomers, methodically rooting out war criminals. And always there was the gnawing fear-that they might tumble onto him by accident. He was a man wary of every footfall, suspicious of all strangers. The fear of surprise was a worm in his gut. To avoid surprises, he learned to predict them before they happened. His reflexes became as swift and deadly. He lied when necessary, bribed when expedient, arranged murder when he had to, a ruthless survivalist, as he moved on to Hong Kong, where he was Victor DeLaroza, the international businessman who destroyed competitors, sucked up companies, and built his empire.