the virus mutate into a plague and sends the boy off to kill eighty thousand people. Hawenneyu has made sure one of the eighty thousand is a man who would have started a war and killed eighty million.”
“But you haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do.”
“Look at the configurations and make a choice.” His voice was quick and urgent. “Do something before things change again.”
“I don’t know enough, can’t see enough all at once to know what’s happening,” she said. She hit on a simple strategy, a way of sorting it out. “Is Bernie telling the truth?”
Danny looked at her without appearing to have heard. “Money is a weapon,” he repeated, and Jane awoke.
6
At dawn, Bernie Lupus opened his eyes. A ray of sunlight had entered the dark hotel room. He knew that much. It took him a moment to see the figure standing beside the curtain. “What? What’s going on?” he whispered.
“I came to talk while Rita is still asleep,” Jane said. “I don’t think it would do her much good to hear us talk.”
Bernie put on his glasses, looked around the room, then took them off again. He eased himself out of bed, wearing a pair of boxer shorts and an undershirt. He picked up his clothes and walked stiffly into the bathroom.
When he emerged, he said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
She kept her steps at Bernie’s pace. The stiffness seemed to leave him gradually as he moved his limbs. When they reached the door that led to the parking lot, his strides had grown longer, and he stood straighter. Jane walked with him away from the motel toward a little plaza where the stores seemed to be closed. The morning sun glinted off the windows with such strength that his face was lighted by the glow. He said, “It’s going to be a hot day here.”
“The car is air-conditioned.”
He squinted at her. “Who’s going to be driving it?”
She said, “That depends on what we say now.”
“So you’ve been thinking about it.”
She returned his squint. “I’m always thinking. That’s why I’m not dead. What about you? How are you planning to stay alive—on the money you’re holding for the families?”
Bernie shook his head. “I wouldn’t touch it with somebody else’s hand. I told you, I have money of my own from the old days.” He looked at her in amusement. “Danny bought me a couple of nice suits, but I never even tried them on. I always wear this coat. Here, feel it.”
Jane touched his arm, and felt a thick padding. She squeezed it, and recognized the crinkle. “Cash?”
Bernie nodded. “I had a couple hundred thousand lying around the house one time, so I started sewing hundreds into the lining, just in case. I brought some more in envelopes for expenses.”
“Is it enough to last you for the rest of your life?”
“I sure as hell hope not.”
“I mean if nothing happens to you.”
He held the hem of his coat out a few inches. “Feel this.”
Jane touched the hem, and felt hard, round pellets between her thumb and forefinger. “What am I feeling?”
“Diamonds. They’re all more than two carats and less than five, all flawless. None of them are hot, either. I had somebody buy them years ago in Amsterdam, right after they were cut.”
“You can’t sell diamonds on any street corner.”
“No, but they’re worth the effort. I’ve seen women no bigger than you carry a few million bucks on them without working up a sweat. And I got a few million more in my head. I used to deposit it in accounts under the name Milton Weinstein. I can get all I want by writing checks against it … if I can keep remembering the account numbers.”
“Tell me more about your memory problem.”
He walked in silence for a few steps. “It’s not bad yet, but it’s like a fire. You look at it and say, ‘Hey, it’s a little fire.’ But they grow. I’m still about ninety percent. Bits of the other ten keep coming back. I get little flashes, and if I’m quick I can read parts. The mind is a weird little mechanism. You’d think that what’s gotten cloudy would be the old stuff—sheets of paper I saw sixty years ago, wouldn’t you? But it isn’t. It’s only the most recent stuff.”
“That’s too bad. The ones who gave you money sixty years ago won’t be coming to ask you to account for nickels.”
“I should have expected it,” he said. “When my grandfather got old, he used to tell me stories about when he was a kid in Poland. After seventy years, he could tell you the weather on some particular day, the flowers that grew along this muddy road where he walked, exactly what people said to him, and what they were wearing. But he couldn’t tell you what he had for lunch an hour ago. What gets erased is short-term memory.”
“Have you added up how much you still remember?”
He shook his head. “It would be a full-time job to keep track. When you’re hiding money, you’ve got to put it in a lot of different places. If a government accountant sees a hundred thousand someplace, he keeps looking down the list. If he sees a hundred million, he says, ‘Let’s find out who this guy is.’ Pretty early on I had to start putting some in foreign countries, real estate, precious metals. It must be ten billion by now, but it could be twenty.”
“Billion? With a B?”
“Yeah. It would be worse, except that even in the old days I only saw a small part of the take. These guys liked to have most of their money where they could reach it. And I lost customers, too. There were fathers who trusted me, and sons who didn’t. The amounts got bigger each year, but they were a smaller and smaller part of gross receipts.” He paused. “You must have come up with a counterproposal.”
“Not exactly,” she answered.
“Why not?”
“My interest in this is Rita,” said Jane. “You’re an unexpected complication.”
He nodded. “I never thought of myself that way. I guess I’d better get used to it, though, now that Danny’s dead. Keeping me out of sight would have been a good deal for him. He would have been a very rich man.” He turned his head a little and held her in the corner of his eye. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I think I can take Rita to a safe place and teach her to live quietly for long enough so they don’t find her. I can’t guarantee that I can keep you from being found, but I can make it very difficult.” She looked at him to judge his reaction. “I think I can arrange something that will help your son without making him too strong.”
“You want something in return,” he said. “What is it?”
She walked on. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a general idea that appeals to me. I’ll tell you what’s on my mind. I’ve always been careful to stay out of the Mafia’s way. There’s never been any question that if I ever happened to attract their notice, there wouldn’t be anything left of me. And I never had any illusion that I could do them noticeable harm, so I never thought of how to go about it. One of the families you’ve been helping happens to be looking for people I’ve made disappear in the past few years. I won’t say who, and I won’t say which family. It occurred to me that I would like it if the families were weaker. My friends would be that much safer. And I would be too.”
“So you want to hurt the Mafia. How?”
“I want you to take all of their money and donate it to charities.”
“What?”
“That’s my price.”
“That’s your price? Ten billion dollars?” He grinned at her, but his expression slowly changed. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You don’t want any, you just want to give it away? I didn’t think anybody would be able to hear what I had to say last night, then go to sleep and not wake up thinking about being rich.”
“You wanted a way to help Vincent without giving him enough to get himself killed. It happens to coincide with what I want: I don’t want any of the rest of them to have it either.”
