That made Kong smile. “Buster, there are about ten thousand circus people, sideshow exhibitors, and show business folks who spend winters in this little town. We don’t make a habit of talking about each other to outsiders. But I will tell you this is the best place in the country for a person who looks bad, or scary, or dresses weird to live, because nobody asks him any questions, and he’d never get a second look.”
As I said, “Yeah, that’s just what I’ve been thinking,” the cell phone inside Kong’s belly pack began to ring. The calliope music that seemed so odd in Miami fit here.
He looked at the caller I.D., raised his eyebrows. When Kong answered-“Talk to me”-he listened for a moment before looking across the table, then pointing at the phone.
I watched Kong mouth the words: It’s him.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I listened to Kong say into the phone, “Uh-huh. I can give them the message. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You’ve sent the e-mail, so then I follow up by phone. Hey, hold on a sec. Let me get something so I can write this down.”
It felt weird hurrying across the bar to find paper so the tattooed giant could take a message from my son’s kidnapper that was intended for me.
A minute later, Kong shut off his phone, cleared it, and said, “The guy’s a fucking weirdo, man. That’s the only bad thing about being a mediator-some of the scum I’ve got to deal with. People think carnies are bad? In sideshows, all we do is stick a spotlight on things that you rubes, the townies, dream about doin’ in the dark. It’s people outside of the gates that’re the scary ones.”
I said, “The person you just spoke with burns people because he enjoys it. Kills them by setting them on fire. He’s a serial killer from Central America.”
That got Kong’s attention. “You’re shitting me. For real?”
I nodded. “And he’s got my son.”
Kong said, “There was a freak act a while back. Sideshow geek stuff. A guy would shoot fire out of his butt, his tallywhacker, then blow himself up. But this dude really sets people on fire?”
“Yeah. He really does. What’s the message you’re supposed to give me?”
Kong had written on the back of a lunch menu. He looked at the menu as he said, “The big bridge that crosses over from the mainland to St. Petersburg, the Sunshine Skyway. On the St. Pete end, there’s a little place called Maximo Park. Do you know it? He wants you and your pals there by seven-thirty tonight with the money and-this is him talking-‘with the money and the other stuff.’ That’s a little before sunset.”
Sunset, I knew, was a few minutes after eight.
Kong spun the menu across the table toward me. “As long as you’re fucking up my mediator business, you might as well tell me the rest. How much money, and what’s he mean, ‘other stuff’?”
I told him about the money and the medicine, adding, “I’ve got both with me, but Pilar and Tomlinson can’t make it. They’re under sail, on their way here by boat. I can’t let Lourdes know that, of course. But why should he care who makes the delivery?”
Kong said, “That’s a good point.” Back in his role as mediator again.
“Do you have a way to contact him?”
“Yeah, I call a number that has a Nicaraguan country code. But he’s not going to like it. He sounded very hyper. Pissed off; almost like someone sounds when they’ve got a hell of a headache. Know what I mean?”
Yes, I knew what he meant.
Checking my watch, I said, “He was supposed to give us until Sunday to get the medicine together. Now all of a sudden, he’s in a rush. It’s twenty till five now. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Sanibel to St. Pete, yet he expects you to get his message to us, then for us to pack and get on the road in time to be at the Skyway by sunset? That’s cutting it damn close.”
Kong had a huge, dumb-looking face, but he had perceptive amber eyes that didn’t miss much. “You think he knows that you’re here? That we’re together?”
“Maybe. Shoving the deadline up like this, he’s acting like something’s spooked him. I came up Bullfrog Creek by boat. I have a strong suspicion that Lourdes and my son have been staying somewhere on or near the creek. Are you absolutely certain you don’t know where he is? Not even a guess?”
Kong got an ugly look on his face. “I ain’t tellin’ you again, buster. I don’t have a clue. Far as I know, I’ve never seen him, and don’t know where he is.”
I said, “Then maybe he got a look at me when I was coming up the creek. Or maybe he’s got neighbors helping as lookouts. There are a couple of old trailer parks I came past. How easy would it be for him to get other carnies to help him out?”
Kong said, “If they knew he was a kidnapper? Zero. But if he convinced them he was in the business, and if he gave them some bullshit story-his asshole ex-wife wants his car repossessed-there’s a kind of carney code. We don’t help outsiders get inside, and we protect our own from the outside.”
“Then maybe that’s it. Someone saw me, got suspicious. Now he’s panicky.”
“That doesn’t sound good for your son.”
“No. Not good.” I had my billfold out. From it, I took the plastic key to my room at the Vinoy and slid it to him. “You’re working for me now. O.K.?”
The huge man shrugged. “The idea of some kid getting burned alive don’t exactly appeal to me. So, yeah, I guess I don’t have much choice.”
“Good. Then here’s what I want you to do. Call Lourdes right now and tell him that you made contact with me. Tell him that we’ve got everything, and we can deliver it tonight. But it’s just me and you making the drop. Also, tell him I want to know how we’re doing the exchange. I’m supposed to get something in return. I’m supposed to get my son-which you know nothing about, of course. Tell him I want to know how it’s going to work.”
Kong said, “I can ask him, but I think he’ll do it like before. Tell us what to do step by step, over the phone, while we’re driving.”
I said, “Call and ask anyway. After that, I want you to drive back to my hotel, get the money, pick up the medicine. You’re going alone. You’re going to pretend like I’m with you, because I’m staying in Gibsonton…” I paused, thinking it through. “Hold it, that won’t work-”
Boats and cars. The logistics were always difficult. Plus, there was an additional problem.
After another moment, I said, “That won’t work because the hotel isn’t going to give you anything from the safe, even if I call and tell them it’s O.K.”
Kong had a bitter sense of humor. “You’re kiddin’. They’re not gonna hand over a suitcase full a money to a nice-lookin’ guy like me?”
I stood, now in a hurry to leave. “Which means that you’re going to have to drive me to the Vinoy. Fast. Then drop me at my boat. You take the money and the medicine. You let Lourdes drive you all over town, jump through all his hoops. You’re still going to be consulting me-every time you make a move, call me on my cell phone. But don’t let him know I’m not with you. You keep him busy. That’ll give me a chance to take a close look around those trailer parks.”
“But what if the guy really plans on swapping you the kid for the money? He’ll have your son with him. Or somewhere staked close by.”
I said, “I hope he does. If that’s the way it goes, take good care of my boy till I get there. But I don’t see it happening that way. Not this early in the game.”
Twenty minutes later, as we crossed the Howard Frankland Bridge in Kong’s black pickup truck with the silver-tinted windows and monster tires, country music blaring, he said after fifteen minutes of silence, “You gonna go off and trust me with a half-million dollars cash. Just like that?”
I’d been thinking about that, too. “I’ve got a friend in town named Harris. I might ask him to ride along with you, just for the hell of it. But if he’s busy? Well, Kong, I found you once. I can find you again.”
AT the Vinoy, Kong waited outside in his truck while I signed for the two gray photographer’s briefcases made of shockproof miracle resin and carried them upstairs to my room. I opened the smaller of the two just to make certain: looked at the neatly packed stacks of U.S. fifties and hundreds, each bound in paper sleeves that read Banco Nacional de Masagua.