A Dangerous Man

THE CABBIE DROPS me off right in front of the building, but he doesn’t want to help me with the box no matter how much cash I offer him. He does lift it out of the trunk for me, and then I stand at the bottom of the steps looking up. There are only about eight of them, but it’s gonna hurt like hell getting the box up there. I force my water bottle into the right side-pocket of my jacket and lift the box up on the first step. Sure enough, it hurts like hell. There are a couple middle-aged Latinos sitting at the top of the steps playing cards on a little crate between their knees. They watch me struggle to get the box up another step, and then one of them calls into the lobby of the building.

– Chiqui!

A skinny twelve-year-old kid wearing shorts and nothing else comes running out. The man points at me and my box. The kid scampers down the steps, wraps his arms around the box, and muscles it up to the top. I climb up after him. He starts to run back inside.

– Hang on.

He stops.

I get a five out of my pocket and hand it to him.

– To the elevator, OK?

The kid looks at the five and then at the man playing cards. The man nods and says something in Spanish. The kid smiles, grabs the bill and hauls the box over to the elevator.

I nod at the man.

– Gracias.

– De nada.

I walk across the tiles that spell out El Marisol and into the cool lobby. The kid smiles again, pushes the elevator button for me and runs outside. I look around the lobby. I figured David would have someone down here, waiting for me. Nope. The elevator dings and the doors open. I scoot the box in. Standing inside the elevator, looking through the lobby and out the front door, I can see the ocean beyond the two small brown men playing cards. I hear them mumbling to each other in Spanish and, faintly, the crash of a wave. It feels like Mexico for that one second. And then the doors close and the elevator takes me up.

– Henry.

– Hey, David. Can you help me with this?

He comes into the corridor and we carry the box down the hall and into his office. I wait for a moment while he goes back down the hall, closes and locks the door and returns.

– A drink?

He walks toward the sideboard that holds the bottles, going around the box, treating it like just another piece of furniture in the overcrowded room.

I work the water bottle free of my pocket.

– No thanks.

He nods.

– It is early for me. And you do not drink. But still.

He picks up two glasses and brandishes them at me. Today of all days.-No. Thanks, but no.

He puts down one of the glasses in surrender.

– Well, it is good to be true to one’s convictions. Bravo, Henry. But I will drink. You do not mind?

– No.

He pours himself a brandy, sniffs it.

– I need a drink. After this last day, I need a drink.

He takes a drink.

– Yes, I need a drink.

He stands there, staring down into the glass. I stand there, staring at him.

– So, David.

– Yes?

I put my hand on top of the box.

– You want to check this out?

He looks at the box, lifts his glass and waves it back and forth a little. If that will make you happy.

I flip and twist the clasps, pull off the top and set it on the arm of the couch.

David takes a couple steps closer and looks at the money. He smiles. A tiny breath of laughter escapes from his nose.

– To be honest, Henry? To be honest, I half expected you would have a weapon or an ally hidden within.

– Someone with a tommy gun waiting to pop out?

– Just so.

– Yeah, that would have been good. Nope, just the money.

He comes closer, reaches out, takes one of the packs of bills from the torn plastic, fingers it, and drops it back inside.

– And it was waiting here?

– Yeah.

– Your friend left it here for you?

– Yeah.

– I have said before.

– What?

– He was a good friend.

– Yeah, he was.

– A loss for you.

I don’t say anything.

– Think of all that could have been avoided if he had lived just long enough to tell you what he had done. Imagine.

He looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in wonder. The waste, the waste.

I unscrew the top of my water bottle, take a sip and screw it back on.

– What I imagine is that if I had known where the money was that day, you would have killed me there and then.

He raises a hand in objection, lowers it.

– I would like to say, I would like very much to say that you are wrong, Henry, but it is not a day to tell lies. Yes, that would have been the case. But. But it has not all been a tragedy. There have been benefits. Some of the work you have done for me has been good. And for you? Some extra time. Who, if asked, would not do what you have done to extend their life for a year? More than a year. And it has not been your life alone that you have spared. Yes? This is the point, yes? This is the why and the wherefore of it all, yes? This is why you are here now with this money rather than on a plane. I tell you, it has not been all bad. You have done well in this, Henry. You are a good son. No one can question that. Ever.

He lifts his glass to me, brings it to his lips, drains it. And I salute you.

He sets the glass on his desktop.

– Are you carrying any weapons, Henry?

I nod.

– Yeah.

He points at the box.

– Put them there, right on top. When the time comes, instinct sometimes takes over. It is best if you are not armed.

I take the knife from my pocket and put it on top of the money.

David looks at it. He sees the blood. He raises an eyebrow. You have been busy?