“Nu? What’s this latest
'I need some equipment: incendiary bombs with timers and incendiary bullets along with an AR to shoot them.'
The Yiddishkeit disappeared; Abe was abruptly a businessman. 'Those I don't have in stock, but I can get them. You need them when?'
'Tonight.”
'Seriously—when?”
'Tonight. An hour ago.'
Abe whistled. 'Oy, that's going to be tough. Important?'
'Very.'
'I'll have to call in some markers on this. Especially at this hour.'
'Make it worth their while,' Jack told him. 'The sky's the limit.”
'Okay. But I'll have to leave and make the pickups myself. These boys don't deal with anybody they don't know.'
Jack didn't like the idea of leaving Gia and Vicky without a guard. But since there was no way for Kusum to find them, a guard was superfluous.
'Okay. You've got your truck, right?'
'Right.'
'Then make your calls, make the pickups, and I'll meet you at the store. Call me when you get there.'
Jack hung up and settled back in his chair. Comfortably dark here in the front room with only a little indirect light spilling from the kitchen area. He felt his muscles loosen up and relax into the familiar depressions of the chair. He was tired. The last few days had been wearing. When was the last time he’d had a good night's sleep? Saturday? Here it was Wednesday morning.
He jumped at the sudden jangle of the phone and picked it up before it finished the first ring.
'Hello?'
A few heartbeats of silence on the other end of the line, and then a click.
Puzzled and uneasy, Jack hung up. A wrong number? Or Kusum checking up on his whereabouts?
He listened for stirrings from the bedroom where he’d left Kolabati, but none came. The ring had been too brief to wake her.
He made his body relax again. He found himself anticipating with a certain relish what was to come. Mr. Kusum Bahkti was in for a little surprise tonight. Yes sir, Jack was going to make things hot for him and his rakoshi. Crazy Kusum would regret the day he tried to hurt Vicky Westphalen.
Because Vicky had a friend. And that friend was mad. Madder'n hell.
Jack's eyelids slipped closed. He fought to open them but then gave up. Abe would call when everything was ready. Abe would come through. Abe could get anything, even at this hour. Jack had time for a few winks.
The last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was the hate-filled eyes of the Mother rakosh as she watched him from the floor of the hold after he’d seared the face of one of her children.
Jack shuddered and slipped into sleep.
20
Kusum swung the rented yellow van into Sutton Square and pulled all the way to the end. Bullwhip in hand, he got out and stood by the door, scanning the street. All was quiet, but who could say for how long? He wouldn't have much time here in this insular neighborhood. His van would draw immediate attention should some insomniac glance out a window and spot it.
Normally this would have been the Mother's job, but she could not be in two places at once. He had given her the sweaty shirt Jack had left on the ship so that she could identify her target by scent, and had dropped her off outside Jack's apartment building only a few moments ago.
He smiled. Oh, if only he could be there to see Jack's expression when the Mother confronted him. He would not recognize her at first—Kusum had seen to that—but he was certain Jack's heart would stop when he saw the surprise Kusum had prepared for him. And if shock didn't stop his heart, the Mother would. A fitting and honorable end to a man who had become too much of a liability to be allowed to live.
Kusum drew his thoughts back to Sutton Square. The last Westphalen lay asleep within meters of where he stood. He removed his necklace and placed it on the front seat of the van, then walked back to the rear doors. A young rakosh, nearly full-grown, leaped out. Kusum brandished the whip but did not crack it—the noise would be too loud.
This rakosh was the Mother's first born, the toughest and most experienced of all the younglings, its lower lip deformed by scars from one of many battles with its siblings. It had hunted with her in London and here in New York. Kusum probably could have let it loose from the ship and trusted it to find the Scent and bring back the child on its own, but he didn't want to take any chances. No mishaps tonight.
The rakosh looked at Kusum, then looked past him, across the river. Kusum gestured with his whip toward the house where the Westphalen child was staying.
'There!' he said in Bengali. 'There!'
With seeming reluctance the creature moved in the direction of the house. Kusum saw it enter the alley on the west side, no doubt to climb the shadowed wall and pluck the child from its bed. He was about to step back to the front of the van and retrieve his necklace when he heard a clatter from the side of the house. Alarmed, he ran to the alley, cursing under his breath all the way. These younglings were so damned clumsy! The only one he could really depend upon was the Mother.
