“Show me pictures, then. What the hell? I want you to be happy.”
“Look carefully at this one, Senor Ramirez.”
He squinted through his swollen eyes.
“Jesus Mary. He didn’t have no beard,” Ramirez said in his border English. “And he was dressed regular, like some kind of
“You brought him across the border?”
“Si.”
“And there was shooting.”
“I shoot no one. That one done the shooting. I swear it. I shoot no one. I didn’t even have no gun. He took my gun before. He’s a very smart
“All right, Mr. Ramirez. We’re very short on time. Here, look through these. I have here over two hundred photographs of men. I want you to look at them closely. You tell me if you’ve seen any recently.”
The faces flicked past. A dreary group — out of focus, blurry. Men in uniforms of strange countries, men photographed at long distance, men in cars or the rain. Most had hard features, the sharpness, the seediness of Europeans; only a few were Latino.
A familiar set of features suddenly were before him. He studied hard.
“Leo,” somebody said, “the needle just jumped through the roof.”
“That one, Mr. Ramirez?” Now he knew why he was here.
“Never seen him.”
“Leo, the needle’s still climbing. It’s going into
“Mr. Ramirez, our machine tells us you’re lying. You have seen this man before.”
Ramirez settled his vision in the far distance. Wire mesh ran through the windows — so he was in a prison then, was he? They really had him.
“Mr. Ramirez, we’re not here to prosecute you. You are not part of any legal proceedings. Nothing you say will be held against you. In point of fact, officially this is not happening. We need your cooperation.”
Ramirez sat and stared placidly ahead.
“Mr. Ramirez. Look on it as a debt of honor. The United States, your friendly northern neighbor, sent a young man to save you from your enemies. Then a helicopter. Your life was saved twice. It seems to me you owe us. It’s a debt of honor. I know how important your honor is.”
“Is no debt,” said the Mexican. “The debt was made no good when the man with the dark beard hit me in the nose. I want some money. Is no honor here. Your people, they have no honor.”
“Now that’s a mentality we can deal with,” somebody said.
“Okay, Sal, cut the smart stuff,” the one called Leo said. “All right, Mr. Ramirez, how much?”
“I want,” said Ramirez, “two hundred dollars.”
“Two hundred dollars?”
“Two hundred, U.S. In cash.”
“I think we can afford that,” said Leo.
“Now,” said Ramirez.
Leo reached into his wallet, counted out some bills. “I have only twenty-three dollars on me now. And some change.”
“How much change?”
Leo searched his pockets. “Sixty-three cents.”
“I take it all. You get the rest later.”
“Twenty-three dollars and sixty-three cents, here you are,” Leo said. “Haggerty, make a note of that, okay?”
“Sure, Leo. We won’t stiff you.” There was some laughter.
Ramirez began to speak.
“He wore a cream suit. He try to kill me. He get me
“Probably Sixto. They worked as a team in Nicaragua.”
“What happened, Mr. Ramirez? This is a very dangerous individual.”
“I shot him in the guts and his friend twice — in the head. With a little Colt I used to keep at the register.”
Nobody said anything for a long moment.
“Jesus Christ,” somebody finally said. “Did you hear that?”
“Is he lying?”
“Leo, we get no increase in respiration.”
“He got ’em both? Jesus, Leo, can you believe that?”
“I know,” said Leo. “They didn’t even bother to hire anybody. They went after him themselves, with their best people, right from the start.”
“That would make those guys Chardy wasted on the mountain part of that crack
“They really went after him with the cream, Leo. They wanted him greased something bad.”
“Christ,” said Leo, “wait till Chardy hears his friend Mr. Ramirez took down a full colonel and a major in Cuban Military Intelligence.”
48
The nun smiled and said that yes, Mr. Chardy could have visitors, at least until four, when the hospital would be cleared. There were visiting hours again at six, until eight.
“Thank you, Sister,” Lanahan said — at his most charming. “And how are you?”
“I’m fine, young man,” she said.
“I’m so glad to see you Ye still in the habit, Sister. You don’t see it so much anymore. I don’t care for these new uniforms. Some don’t even wear uniforms, which is quite a bit too far out for my taste. The habit communicates such seriousness, such dignity.”
“That’s the way we feel, young man.”
“Goodbye.”
Miles, warmed by the conversation, rode the elevator up four stories and turned down one hall and then another, tracking room numbers. His soles clicked crisply on the linoleum. He walked through doors and along corridors, surprised that the place was so huge. Crucifixes adorned every wall, and pictures of Jesus and Mary. He smiled at the nuns. It had been — how long since he’d been in an exclusively Catholic institution? So long. Too long. He thought of asking where the chapel was, and stopping for a moment. The warmth and love of the place embraced him. And pleased him; Chardy, in a place like this? It would be good for him. At last he found the wing.
NEUROLOGICAL, the sign said. It figured. Chardy, the nut-case, in the loony department. He stepped through double doors. No nuns or priests here, not even a doctor in this bleak green corridor. He paused, counting the room numbers.
CHARDY PAUL, read the typed card framed next to the doorjamb.
He paused again. The door was closed. What crawled on his spine? A feeling of things wrong, dead wrong, all about him. His profession, however, inclined him to paranoia, and one succeeded in it by virtue of controlling these devouring sensations. Yet still he felt sucked in. Gray light came through the window just down the way at the end of the hall, displaying a slice of the panorama of the city, though one without monuments.
Lanahan’s attack at last quelled itself, and he felt okay again, ready to check in on Chardy, to see him with his own eyes, to
