Geezler promised to look into Beni’s case, and asked Rem to find the names of the other men. Although, he said, his arena was Europe, which limited him in certain regards. It wasn’t if he could do anything, but when.
‘I don’t want to play my hand too early. I’m operating in someone else’s territory. There might be a more apposite time for me to be involved.’ To be honest, he said, he hadn’t anticipated so many issues, certainly none as serious as this. He asked Rem to keep an eye on Beni. ‘Let me know when he receives his deployment date. I can intervene at that point without making undue trouble. Make sure you have his full name.’
Rem accepted the situation. Geezler at least was listening, he paid attention. Rem understood the constraint under which he worked. Geezler had set up the whole operation, had sent Rem into the field to discover these problems. While Geezler hadn’t said as much, he guessed that he’d put his job on the line. If discovered Rem would lose nothing. Geezler stood to lose plenty.
He took another quick look at the facilities before turning in, and what he saw depressed him. It wasn’t so much the lack of cleanliness as the smell and disarray of too many men in too small a space. Everyone was to be woken at five, a schedule laid out the order for showers and breakfast.
Unused to sharing a room with men, Rem slept uneasily.
* * *
The first four days in Austin passed quickly, on each day the information changed, the briefings became longer, repetitive. First they were heading to Iraq via Dubai, then Bahrain, possibly Düsseldorf, then definitely Bahrain. Once in Bahrain they would be held in a hotel close to the airport while they were processed, which could take anything up to a week because the parent company, HOSCO, needed to figure out exactly where they were needed.
Geezler called on the sixth day to notify Rem that a placement had been confirmed and transit was organized for the next morning. Geezler wished him luck, and Rem said that he was ready. Rem called Cathy with the news.
‘You don’t have to do this. If you don’t go you won’t be letting anyone down.’
‘It’s six weeks.’
‘You don’t have to go.’
‘Six weeks. We’ll owe nothing. Tell me what you want.’
‘And what difference would it make, Rem?’
The fact, unspoken, lay clear before them, if she asked him not to go, he would not go.
* * *
On his last afternoon in Chicago, Rem visited Mike in his house on Ravenswood.
Mike’s wife opened the door, looked less than pleased to see him. ‘When are you taking that dog back?’
Rem said it wouldn’t be with them much longer.
‘It’s cruel,’ she said, blame in her voice, ‘it’s not right keeping something in a cage like that. And I don’t like lying to Cathy.’
‘I’ll deal with it.’
As she walked away she muttered, Make sure you do, then told him that Mike was waiting in the back.
The houses on Ravenswood lay close to the tracks. Trees sheltered the yards and darkened the stoops and porches, and while he used to enjoy this — shade in the summer for beer and end-of-day business — it struck him now as oppressive.
He found Mike sat at a table. Geezler had settled an advance of three thousand, enough to pay the most urgent outstanding medical bill and give Mike a little of what he owed.
Mike stood up, squeezed past the table and asked Rem if he wanted a beer.
Rem spoke while Mike was out of the room. Easier to talk without facing him, to speak with a little pep and verve, to make the news sound inconsequential.
‘I found work. It’s a short job, but it means I’ll be able to settle everything.’
‘Short?’
‘Six weeks, guaranteed bonus. No tax, so I can settle with you when I get back.’
Mike stopped at the door, a beer in each hand.
‘No tax, so that’s abroad, right?’
Rem nodded. Mike’s head made a slight jolt. ‘Is this what I think it is? Because you don’t have to do that.’
‘It’s a lot of money. In six weeks I can clear everything I owe.’
Mike set both beers on the table. ‘Rem, if this is Iraq, I mean, we can all wait. What’s done is done. You don’t have to do this. Don’t go on my behalf.’ He scratched the back of his head. ‘You should have just cut us loose. That’s what you should have done. You have this whole thing mixed up. Other businesses fail. It’s not your fault. As soon as you didn’t have the jobs you should have let us go.’
Mike popped the cans open, slid one across to Rem.
‘And then there’s Matt. I don’t see why you helped him out. I don’t see it. You go to Iraq and what does he do? You haven’t saved anything. The end result — I really hate to say — is what? What does Cathy say?’
‘She doesn’t like it.’
Rem took out the money and set it beside Mike’s beer. Mike looked at it and repeated, ‘This just makes me feel bad. I don’t want to hold you to anything.’
‘I promised I’d pay you.’
Mike picked up the money, note by note. ‘I can’t refuse this. You know that. But I don’t like being in this position, Rem. I think I should take this and we should call it quits. You’ve done what you can.’
‘I said I’d pay. And I’ll pay.’
‘You just have to give it up. Sometimes you just have to say enough.’ Mike shook his head.
‘It isn’t as bad as it sounds. Won’t be much different than Kuwait.’
‘It isn’t just about going, Rem, you know that. It’s leaving here. Leaving Cathy. You two always mess up when you’re apart. You know that.’
‘It’s not the same.’
‘She was sick, and you were away. You think she doesn’t remember that?’
As the light failed, the house became unfamiliar, through all the years Rem had visited it had never seemed so drab.
They spoke in conditional terms about events that were already decided.
‘We might move.’ Mike looked to the kitchen, to indicate the choice wasn’t his. ‘Be closer to her sister in Cicero. It isn’t just the money. The neighbourhood’s changing. On one side the rents are going up, on the other, it’s turning into a place you don’t want to be.’
‘When might this happen?’
Mike pointed to flats of cardboard stacked alongside the wall, boxes, ready to be made up.
‘That soon?’
‘Soon.’
Rem looked hard at the table’s edge. He cleared his throat. ‘About the dog.’
* * *
On the porch, in a cage — nothing more than a rabbit hutch — set on a workbench, a small Yorkshire terrier curled on a folded blanket. Rem bent forward, cooed, Lucy, Lucy, and the dog came up, licked his fingertips through the mesh.
‘It has to go back.’
‘She’s fond of it now.’
‘It’s not right, though.’
‘Eye for an eye.’
‘I can’t be certain.’ The thing is, he explained, you can take all of the facts, mix them around, give them to five people, and you’d have five different versions about what’s going on. Things get so mixed up, you just can’t tell the truth any more.
* * *
Rem wouldn’t hear the news until the next morning. Not until Cathy returned from the hospital.
‘How do I get hold of you?’ she asked. ‘Calling your cell is going to cost a fortune.’
Rem suggested they keep the mobile strictly for emergencies. They could record messages, video or sound, on their phones and upload them. Cathy asked how.
‘Use the library. It’s free. They have a stack of computers. Send emails, use the Yahoo account.’