keeping her eyes on the dark road. There was some ground fog now, and it was spooky out there. She glanced at me and winked.
Finally, Khalil replied, 'In fact, I have been dreaming about you.'
'Good one?'
'I dreamed that we met in a dark place, and that I emerged into the light, alone, covered with your blood.'
'Really? What do you think that means?'
'You know what it means.'
'Do you ever dream about women?. You know, and wake up with a serious woody?'
Kate poked me in the ribs.
Khalil didn't answer my question, but changed the subject and said, 'Actually, there may be a few things you can do for me.'
'I knew it.'
'First, please tell Mr. Wiggins that even if it takes another fifteen years, I will kill him.'
'Come on, Asad. Isn't it time to forgive and get on-'
'Shut up.'
My goodness.
'Second, Mr. Corey, the same goes for you and for Miss Mayfield.'
I glanced at Kate, but she didn't seem to be able to hear Khalil's end of the conversation. I said to my disturbed caller, 'You know, Asad, you can't solve all your problems with violence.'
'Of course I can.'
'He who lives by the sword shall die-'
'He who has the fastest sword will go on living. There is a poem in my language that I will try to translate for you. It is about a solitary and fearsome warrior, mounted on-'
'Hey, I know that one! My Arabic is a little rusty, but here's how it goes in English-' I cleared my throat and recited, ''Terrible he rode alone with his Yemen sword for aid; ornament it carried none but the notches on the blade.' How's that?'
There was a long silence, then Khalil asked me, 'Where did you learn that?'
'Bible study? No, let me think. An Arab friend.' I added, to piss him off, 'I have lots of Arab friends who work with me. They're working hard to find you.'
Mr. Khalil thought about that and informed me, 'They will all go to hell.'
'And where are you going, pal?'
' Paradise.'
'You're already in California.'
'I am in Libya. I have completed my Jihad.'
'Well, if you're in Libya, I'm not interested in this conversation, and we're running up the phone bill, so-'
'I will tell you when the conversation is ended.'
'Then get to the point.' Actually, I thought I knew what he wanted. More interestingly, during the silence, I heard a bird chirping somewhere, leading me to believe that Asad Khalil was not indoors, unless he owned a canary. I mean, I'm not good at bird calls, but I know what a bird sounds like, and this bird sounded like one of the nightbirds I'd heard in Bel Air. I was pretty sure this guy was still somewhere in the area, birds or no birds.
Anyway, Asad got down to the real purpose of his call and asked me, 'What did you say to me when we last spoke?'
'I think I called you a camel-fucker. But I want to take that back because it's a racial slur, and as a Federal employee and an American, I-'
'About my mother and father.'
'Oh, right. Yeah, well, the FBI-actually the CIA and their overseas friends-have some really reliable information that your Mom was… how can I put this? Sort of like very good friends with Mr. Gadhafi. You know? Hey, we're men-right? We understand these things. Okay, so it's your Mom, and maybe this is hard to hear, but she has needs and wants. Right? And you know… it gets kind of lonely with Pop out of town a lot… hey, you still there?'
'Go on.'
'Right.' I glanced at Kate, who was giving me a thumbs-up. I continued, 'So look, Asad, I'm not being judgmental. Maybe Mom and Moammar didn't get together until after your father-oh, that's the other thing-your father. Are you sure you really, really want to hear this?'
'Go on.'
'Okay. Well, the CIA again-they're a very smart bunch and they know stuff you wouldn't believe. I have this really good CIA friend, Ted, and Ted told me that your father-Karim was his name. Right? Anyway, you know what happened in Paris. But I guess what you don't know is that it wasn't the Israelis who whacked him-murdered him. In fact, Asad, it was… well, why dig up the past? Shit happens. You know? And I know how you are about holding a grudge, so why do you want to get yourself worked up again? Forget it.'
There was a long silence, then he said, 'Go on.'
'Are you sure? I mean, you know how people are. They say, 'Go ahead. Tell me. I won't be mad at you.' Then, when you tell them bad news, they hate you. I don't want you to hate me.'
'I don't hate you.'
'But you want to kill me.'
'Yes, but I don't hate you. You have done nothing to me.'
'Of course I have. I fucked up your plans to whack Wiggins. Can't I get a little credit? Et tu, Brute?'
'Excuse me?'
'Latin. So, it's okay if you hate me, but why should I rub this in? I mean, what's in it for me to tell you about your dad?'
He mulled that over and replied, 'If you tell me what you know, you have my word that I will not harm you or Miss Mayfield.'
'And Wiggins.'
'I will make no such promise. He is the walking dead.'
'Well, okay. Better half a pita than none. So, where was I…? Oh, the Paris thing. Yeah, I don't want to speculate or sow seeds of doubt and distrust, but you have to ask yourself the question that all homicide cops ask themselves about a murder. The question is, Cui bono? Who gains? That's Latin again. Not Italian. You speak Italian-right? Anyway, cui bono? Who gains? Who would gain from your father's death?'
'The Israelis, obviously.'
'Come on, Asad. You're smarter than that. How many Libyan Army captains do the Israelis kill on the streets of Paris? The Israelis need a reason to whack someone. What did your father do to them? Tell me if you know.'
I heard him clear his throat, then he replied, 'He was an anti-Zionist.'
'Like, who in Libya isn't? Come on, pal. Here's the sad truth. My CIA friends are positive that it was not the Israelis who killed Dad. In fact, the murder, according to Libyan defectors, was ordered by Mr. Moammar Gadhafi himself. Sorry.'
He said nothing.
I went on, 'That's the way it was. Was it a political difference between Dad and Moammar? Was it that somebody in Tripoli had it in for your father? Or was it because of Mom? Who knows? You tell me.'
Silence.
'You still there? Asad?'
Asad Khalil said to me, 'You are a filthy liar, and it will give me great pleasure to cut out your tongue before I slice your throat.'
'See? I knew you'd be pissed. Try to do a favor and-Hello? Asad? Hello?'
I hit the End button and put the phone down on the seat between Kate and me. I took a deep breath.
We rode in silence awhile, then I gave Kate the gist of Khalil's end of the conversation, even telling her that he said he'd kill her. I concluded, 'I don't think he likes us.'
'Us? He doesn't like you. He wants to cut out your tongue and slit your throat.'
