woman who never did an unkind act in her whole life? You got any ideas?”
“Look, I have money, a lot of money…I’ll make it right. I didn’t know…I never told them to hurt anyone….”
“I don’t want your money, you terrible chunk of dog shit,” said Barlow in a slow calm voice. “Blood’s been shed and has to be repaid in blood. I been thinking what to do driving down here and I guess I come up with something about right.”
Snick snick.
Barlow replaced the stone in its little pocket. He licked the back of his wrist and shaved off a swath of hair. He held this in front of Packer’s goggling eyes.
“Pretty sharp, huh?”
No comment from Packer. Barlow said, “What I come up with is I’m going to skin your head. That seem fair to you? My wife’s poor face, you ought to have seen it. It just broke my heart to look at her. They cracked her cheekbone, you know.”
“Oh, Jesus, oh God…”
“You hear what I said about taking the Lord’s name in vain? You don’t listen too good, Mr. Packer, that might be one of your main problems in life. My own main problem is anybody hurts my family I just go pure crazy out of control. Now I done this a bunch of times on deer, mostly when I was a kid, but I guess it’ll work the same with you. First, I’m going to cut a circle around your scalp like this….” Barlow drew the point of the knife lightly around Packer’s head, too lightly to draw blood.
“Then I can get my point under there and work your scalp off. I ought to have a skinner, but I guess this old Randall’s going to do the job good enough. It ain’t as if I’m going to mount it. Anyway, after that, I’ll cut in front of your ears, behind your jaw and on up. If I’m careful and slow about it and if you don’t buck too much, I guess I can pull the whole thing off in one piece. The eyelids are the hard part, them being so delicate. I’m going to tape up your mouth now, since you’re a goddamned coward who sends other men to beat up ladies in their own kitchens, which means you’ll probably bawl like a little girl, and I don’t want to wake up the whole town.”
Barlow applied the tape and then walked behind Packer and placed his arm under the wildly squirming man’s chin, pressing the back of his head against his own belt buckle. He placed the knife against Packer’s forehead and began to move it slowly across.
The boat rocked and Paz burst into the room, his pistol pointing. “Goddammit, Cletis! What thefuck are you doing?”
“Stay out of this, Jimmy!”
“Put down that knife! What’re you, nuts?”
Barlow put his knife on the dining table but picked up his shotgun and pointed it toward Paz, who pointed his pistol right back.
“Put it down, Cletis! I mean it.”
Barlow fired the shotgun. The charge of shot hit the tank of the Harley, puncturing it in half a dozen places. The room filled with the toxic-sweet scent of gasoline.
Paz said, “Okay, Cletis, you made your point but now you got an empty shotgun there. I don’t want to have to shoot you, but I will if you don’t put the damn gun down and get the fuck off of this boat. Go out and cool off! I’ll get with you later. Go!”
After a long moment of hesitation, Barlow placed the shotgun against a bulkhead and stalked out of the room. He climbed the stairway to the overhead deck and they could hear him pacing back and forth, reciting, “Thou shalt make them as a fiery oven in the time of thine anger; the Lord shall swallow them up in his wrath, and the fire shall devour them.”
Paz pulled the tape off Packer’s mouth. “Christ, what a mess! Are you okay?”
“What the fuck does it look like? Untie me! I’m going to put that fucking redneck maniac in jail for the rest of his life.”
“Oh, you don’t want to talk like that, Dave. You don’t want Cletis in the same jail as you. No way.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Murder, Dave,” said Paz, strolling around behind the other man and into the bedroom. A little searching found an attache case, locked. He brought it back into the salon and set it on the table next to Barlow’s blade.
“You had a Sudanese named al-Muwalid killed by a man named Dodo Cortez, supervised by your pal Jack Wilson, and then you had Wilson killed too, to clear the decks. You’re a thorough fellow, Dave. You couldn’t have guessed that I had a way into Ignacio Hoffmann, but I did, and he was very forthcoming, for a gangster. He said that a Floyd Mitchell had visited him along with poor old Jack. Ignacio told me how and why Dodo killed the Sudanese and described you pretty well. Floyd Mitchell is you, Dave.”
“You can’t prove any of that.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But, you know, I don’t think I’m going to have to, because you’re going to tell me the whole story, all about SRPU and the Sudan and Emmylou Dideroff and oil, every fucking detail. Or…”
“Or what?” said Packer. “You realize I’m going to have your badge for this?”
“That’s good, that’s a good movie line. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to dig my badge out of the toilet. I’m now violating a direct written order from my superior officer, Major Oliphant, to lay off this case and specifically to stay away from you. My plan is to pursue a career in food services.”
Silence, except for the thump and muttering above.
“Yeah, you’re heavily protected, Dave, in high places. Unfortunately, right now, I’m your only low-place protection. From that.”
Paz raised his eyes to the overhead.
“…the righteous shall rejoice when he seeth the vengeance; he shall wash his feet in the blood of the wicked.”
“He means it too. He’s a fundamentalist. He willliterally wash his feet in your blood. So start talking. I’m tired, I’ve been driving all day and I want a drink and bed.”
Packer said nothing.
“Okay, your choice. You know, you messed with the wrong guy there. He was kicked off the force for trying to murder the chief of police. He’s a religious maniac and you’re the devil. In fact, after he finishes with you, he’ll probably just toss a match into that gas puddle and walk away clean.” Paz picked up Barlow’s knife and worked it under the hasps of the attache case locks. The lid popped up, revealing that the case was full of wrapped hundreds. He whistled. “Well we don’t wantthis to get burned up, do we? What else have we got?” Paz riffled through the file folders in the portfolio built into the case’s lid.
“Passports? Here’s our old pal Floyd Mitchell, and gosh he does look just like you! Amazing. And here’s a much-used one for Wayne Semple. A traveling man is Wayne. Spent a lot of time in the Middle East, Sudan too. And here’s an ID card from the Strategic Resources Protection Unit, also in the name of Wayne Semple. I guess that’s your real name, although I think I’ll keep calling you Dave. You seem like a Dave to me. But it’s a good thing I’ve got these, because I doubt they’d be able to identify the corpse after the fire.”
“You can have the money,” said Packer. “Just call…just call a number.”
“This is incredible. You still don’t get it. Dave, Ihave the money and you’re all tied up with about twenty minutes to live after I walk out of here with it. I’ll mail the passports back to SRPU. We don’t want your family to suffer.”
Paz picked up the case and walked toward the door. He was just stepping through when Packer shouted for him to stop. Paz walked back. He went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer, opened it, and took a long drink. He saw Packer watch him and lick his lips. “You must be pretty dry, Dave. Fear’ll do that. Want one?”
A pause. Then Packer nodded. Paz got another, cracked the cap and held it up to Packer’s mouth. Paz sat down on a chair with his face about a yard from Packer’s.
“So. Wayne Semple is your real name, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re an employee of the federal government? In this SRPU outfit?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you do there?”
“I’m a contract manager.”
Paz laughed heartily. “In a manner of speaking. What do you do officially?”
