him.
He sent flowers. Took her to dinner. Offered her all the right complements. But his old magic failed to light her fires. And the more she refused, the more he desired her. He asked if there was someone else and she’d said there wasn’t. Maybe that was her mistake. Maybe she should have told him about her relationship with Kevin a lot sooner, then maybe he would have gone away. But she didn’t. She said there was no one, but he didn’t believe her. So he watched her.
He didn’t say anything when she’d returned from Zambia. She’d done a wonderful shoot for Save the Children just hours before the president was assassinated.
He was silent when she’d come back from a shoot in Ecuador. They’d gotten great footage of her with a pair of paper thin twin boys, but no one got footage of the leader of the opposition when he was gunned down leaving for work only an hour before she left for the airport. He didn’t come calling and confront her till she returned from Sierra Leone the day after the new President was shot during dinner.
Once was coincidence, he’d said. Twice was circumstantial, but three times was the clincher, the next best thing to a smoking gun. He was too smart to threaten her, or to blackmail her, instead, he said, he had a plan. She could have more money than she’d ever imagined. She’d never have to work again, never have to do another hit. All she had to do was something she was good at. Assassinate the prime minister. Shoot Ram and she got a hefty share of the spoils. And the spoils: A small oil rich country, ripe for the plucking and the profits gained from laundering the money of one of the biggest drug cartels in Colombia. Too much money to walk away from. It was just too much.
Earl wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was sweating like a stuck pig and he hadn’t cleared customs yet. He was standing behind a large black man with no neck. The son-of-a-bitch must spend his life in the fucking gym, Earl thought, as he concentrated on a fly that was moving downward over the ripple of muscle on the back of the man’s head. No Neck swiped at it without looking, moving hand and arm like a giant paw. Earl jerked his head out of the way, barely avoiding the grizzly strike. The fly turned to mush and blood on the hump that passed for a neck. It didn’t have a chance.
“ Watch it,” Earl said, without thinking.
No Neck turned and smiled at Earl. “Sorry.” He pinched the fly between thumb and forefinger and flicked it onto the floor.
“ Just missed me,” Earl said.
“ I’ll try to be more careful,” the huge man said. The encounter was over as No Neck moved up to the customs counter and Earl realized that like the fly, he was out of the man’s memory, no more important than the dust on the floor. He was brooding, thinking of home, not even gone a day and he missed Texas.
“ Next,” the custom’s officer said, and Earl felt relief flood over him. He was tired of the line, tired of the dingy airport and tired of the sweat pouring down his back. The sooner he got Maria and got out of Trinidad, the better.
An hour later the road weary cab pulled up in front of the Hilton Hotel. Earl couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. Less than two hours in the country and all he wanted to do was go home. He was disgusted by the run down buildings, the fading paint, the litter in the street and the sea of black faces. This wasn’t the good old U. S. of A.
“ Don’t you just love it here?” the driver said. “Everything is so laid back. No pushing and shoving, everybody has a smile on their face.”
“ Nice,” Earl said, wondering if the idiot was seeing the same things he was.
“ And it’s so clean.”
“ Clean?” Earl said, he had his hand in his hip pocket, digging for his money. He wanted to pay the sorry excuse for a cab driver and have him on his way.
“ Air’s fresh,” the cab driver said.
“ Bullshit,” Earl said, money in hand.
“ Eighty dollars,” the driver said.
“ Eighty dollars? You must think I’m nuts. No way. That’s robbery.”
“ It’s not robbery. It’s the normal charge. If you can’t afford it you shoulda taken the bus.”
He started to say something, then he remembered the cash in the briefcase by his foot, and he smiled. He’d brought the money with him, because he couldn’t think of anyplace to leave it and there sure as shit wasn’t anybody he could trust with it. If he’d had time he’d have gotten himself three or four safety deposit boxes down to the bank, but everything happened so fast.
“ You’re right,” he said, counting out four twenties. The cab driver’s eyes went white and wide and his hand started shaking as he accepted the money.
“ Thank you, sir, thank you very much,” he said.
“ Now get the bags.” Earl felt more important than he’d ever felt wearing a badge in a small Texas town. He was going to like having money.
Once in the hotel he walked briskly across the lobby toward the reception desk. The young man behind the counter looked up as he approached, pulled his face out of a ledger and closed it.
“ Can I help you?” he asked. He was an African Trinidadian with a wide smile and pointy ears that looked like they were cropped close to the head, like they came off of a Doberman pinscher.
“ You have a Maria Lawson staying here?”
The clerk punched a few keys and studied a computer screen. “Yes we do,” he said through his ear to ear smile.
“ Can you give me her room number?” Earl asked.
“ Can’t do that. It’s against the rules, but you can use the house phone over there. The hotel operator will put you right through.”
“ I don’t want to be put right through. I want her room number.” Earl balled his hands and felt the blood rising under his collar. He wanted to wipe the grin off the young man’s face.
“ I’m sorry, would you like me to get the manager?”
“ I guess you don’t hear so good. I don’t want the manager. I don’t care about your rules. I don’t want to talk to her on the phone. I want you to give me her room number.” The blood was in his head now and he felt himself turning hot, despite the air conditioning that kept the lobby only slightly warmer than a frozen North Texas winter.
“ I’ll get the manager,” the desk clerk said, spinning around. He opened a door behind him. In seconds he’d have the manager. Well that was all right, Earl thought, he knew how to deal with hotel managers.
“ I’ll be right back,” Earl said. He picked up the briefcase and felt a sort of ecstasy with the weight of it, almost as good as sex, then he was off toward the men’s bathroom. Inside he entered the first stall, closed the door, and sat on the toilet with the briefcase on his lap. He opened it and fondled the contents with his eyes before he removed a bundle of hundreds, peeled off ten and put them in his hip pocket.
He inhaled deeply, feeling the air flow deep into his belly. Then with a satisfied grunt he closed the case, left the stall and the restroom and headed back to reception. The man was different, but the question was the same.
“ Can you give me Maria Lawson’s room number?” Earl slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter.
“ Four-eighteen,” the manager said as he slipped the bill into his pocket.
“ Does four-sixteen or four-twenty have a connecting door?” Earl asked.
“ Four-twenty does, but it’s occupied,” the manager said, staring at a computer screen. “Looks like it’s going to stay that way for about a week.”
“ I’ll take four-twenty.” Earl counted out five more hundreds and slid them across the counter. Probably more than the man made in a month.
“ I can’t,” the man said, but Earl could see greed tugging at his conscience. “I wish I could, but the room is already occupied.”
“ You could tell them there’s a problem with the plumbing and upgrade them, give them a better view.” Earl passed over two more hundreds.
“ I could do that.” The manager covered the seven hundred dollars with his palm.
“ I’ll be back in an hour,” Earl said.
