Sacrifice

'No. Just to get things straight.'

He got to his feet, turned his back on me. Tapped some keys rapidly on the computer, too fast for me to follow. He hit a final key with a concert pianist's flourish. The machine beeped. He got up, went back to his easy chair.

'You've been logged in. Physical description, time of arrival, your code name, everything. It's all been transmitted— the modem is open.'

'I didn't come here to do anything to you.'

'I'm sure.'

'Listen to me,' I said, leaning forward, keeping my voice low. 'Can we not be stupid? I didn't come here to do anything to you. But don't confuse yourself— the Israelis aren't your pals. I don't know what you did for them, what you do for them…and I don't care. But all they are is a barrier. A threat. Like you think I am. Somebody drops you, they aren't going to get even. Understand what I'm saying?'

'Yes, quite well. You are saying if I don't give you information you want, you'll kill me.'

'That's cute. You got enough for your tape recorder now? I'm not threatening you. Not with anything. I'm just trying to tell you something…and you should listen. Listen good…maybe you don't want this on tape.'

He steepled his long fingers, regarding me over the top of the spire. I counted to twenty in my head before he moved a muscle. He got to his feet, languid movements, tapped into the computer again. Sat down, waiting.

'This is the truth, okay?' I told him. 'You don't have friends in high places. Not true friends. What you are is an asset…something of value. Everybody protects what they value. You know that good as anyone. You have this valuable painting, okay? Somebody steals it, you try and buy it back. But if there's a fire, all you can do is collect on the insurance. The Israelis can't protect you unless it's the federales who pop you. They got no reach with the locals. What I have for you, it's another barrier. Something you can't get from your friends.'

He raised his eyebrows, didn't say a word.

I reached in my pocket, handed him an orange piece of pasteboard, about the size of a business card. He turned it over, held it up.

Get Out of Jail Free.

'Is this your idea of a joke?'

'It's not a joke. You got a lawyer, right? Probably got a few of them. Have your lawyer go over to City-Wide, speak to Wolfe…you know who she is?'

'Yes.'

'See if I'm telling the truth, then.'

'I'd get…?'

'Immunity. Kiddie porn's the only way you're going down, right? The only risk you take. And you're not getting stung by Customs— you don't deal with people you don't know. Only way it's gonna happen, somebody drops a dime, City-Wide does the search.'

'There is nothing here.'

'You're looking at the big picture, pal. And that's a mistake. What you should be looking at is the frame, see?'

He took a breath. Small, cold eyes on mine. 'You couldn't deliver,' he said quietly. 'We know about Wolfe. People have…talked to her before. She's not…amenable…to…whatever you propose.'

'Have your lawyer talk to her again. Do it first, before you do anything for me, okay? I'll tell you what I want, tell you right now, in this room. Just listen— I guarantee you it won't be against you or your people. Give me a couple of days, have your lawyer go see her, all right? Nothing's changed, you don't have to do a thing. You decide, okay?'

He steepled his fingers again. I counted in my head. 'Tell me what you want,' he said.

158

I lit a smoke, centering. I'd only get one shot.

'We both know how it works, you and me. Child molesters…'

His thin lips parted— I held up my hand in a 'stop!' gesture, going on before he could speak. 'I'm not talking about your people now. There's people who molest children, right? I'm talking about rape. Sodomy. Hard, stick-it sex. It happens. Don't go weak on me now. I know what you do— I know what you told me. I could play it back for you, word for word. The kids you're involved with, it's love, right? There's always a consent— you wouldn't do a thing without it. I remember what you said…you're a mentor, a teacher. Not a rapist. I'm separating you now— listen good. Those people who say child sexual abuse is a myth— we know better, you and me. I'm not saying you do it— I'm saying it gets done. People do it, right?'

'Savages do it.'

'Yes. Fathers rape their daughters, it's not a fantasy. Humans kill kids, make films of it, it's not a myth.'

'And you think we're all the same, you think…'

'No,' I said, eyes open and clear, calling on a childhood of treachery for the effortless lying that they made second nature to me before I was ten. 'What you do, people could argue about it, but I know you love children. Maybe I don't agree with it, but I'm not a cop. It's not my job. It's the baby-rapers who make your life hell, isn't that true? You love children. You'd be as angry about torturing them as anybody else would. Even if the laws changed, even if they eliminated the age thing, made it so a kid could consent to sex, then they'd be like adults, right? And rape is rape.'

'Society calls it rape when…'