No… not ready to go there yet.
'You seem to know a lot about him. Almost like you did some real in-depth research.'
'I heard him whining and blubbering on the phone. That was all the research I need. Typical Arab wimp.'
The cutter… looking better and better.
'And what's that make you? If he's such a wimp, why didn't you have the cojones to go mano-a-mano with him?'
He looked away. 'I'm through talking to you.'
'In that case, keep quiet till Munir gets here, or the tape goes back on.'
'Moooneeer… what a joke.'
Jack slammed the doors and found a crate to sit on while he waited for Munir.
2
Finally! Jack thought as a buzzer echoed through the garage. Where's he been?
He stepped over to the door and used the peephole. Not Munir… a woman.
What the hell?
And then he recognized her.
'Mrs. Habib?' he said as he pulled open the door.
She stepped inside, rubbing her hands against the cold wind that followed her. She wore a parka and a large shoulder bag.
'Call me Barbara, please.'
'All right… Barbara.' He stuck his head out the door and checked the street. No sign of Munir. 'I was expecting your husband.'
He closed the door against the cold and turned to her. Her face was pale in the dim light of the single bulb. Her eyelids were dusky from lack of sleep, but a hard, fierce light glinted in the eyes behind them.
'I came in his place.'
Jack cleared his throat. 'Well, what I had in mind was some rather intense interrogation and-'
'Munir is a decent man with a gentle soul. He would not be good for this. He's better off staying with Robby.'
Was she saying the mystery man's 'wimp' remark hadn't been so far off the mark?
Jack watched her closely. 'Am I to infer that your soul is not so gentle?'
'Robby's finger cannot be saved. He will go through life maimed, mutilated. He will be fine, physically-a missing pinky is mildly disfiguring but will not be a handicap. But psychologically… I don't see him ever getting over the trauma of being strapped down, fully awake and alert, while a stranger cut off his finger. The memory of the pain will fade, but his helplessness, and the cold-blooded cruelty of what was done to him… those will remain with him forever. He will need therapy… years and years of it.'
'Do you think you feel worse about this than Munir?'
She nodded. 'Because he was not there.'
Jack remembered the photo of her that had accompanied the severed finger, and its inscription.
'You watched?'
She shook her head. 'He wanted me to. He tied Robby down with his hand just inches from my face, but he had no way to keep my eyes open. He demanded that I watch but I couldn't.'
'Of course not.'
'But I heard the crunch of his little bone, and I heard his screams through his gag. Munir heard none of that. And he was not tied down and prevented from comforting her poor terrified baby when he needed her after it was done.' She looked at Jack with tear-filled eyes. 'I'm pretty sure I'm going to need years of therapy too.'
'I'm sorry.'
'But it will help me to know why this… creature did this to us.'
'He said it's because Munir is an Arab.'
She shook her head. 'He hates Arabs. The way he raged about the attack on the Towers… that was real. But I cannot help feel there was some other reason.'
The Septimus Order's seven-pointed sigil flashed in Jack's brain.
'I'm with you.' He glanced at the van. 'But you don't have to dirty your hands with him. I'll-'
'No. He mutilated my son. I need to find out why.'
'I'll find out why and tell you.'
She set her jaw. 'I must do this myself. I need to do this. It will be the start of my therapy.'
Jack thought about it… setting a mother loose on the man who'd maimed her child…
He sort of liked that. Something almost poetic there.
'All right, but first… wait here.'
He opened one of the van's rear doors and hopped inside. The mystery man gave him a puzzled look as Jack checked to make sure none of the tape or bungees was loose.
'I guess he finally got the nerve to show up, huh? Making sure I don't get loose and hurt him?'
'He couldn't make it.'
'Bullshit. I heard you talking. He's afraid of me. Even all trussed up like this, I scare the hell out of him.'
'He stayed with his son. Someone else came in his place.'
Jack pushed open the other rear door to reveal Barbara.
The guy's eyes did the closest Jack had ever seen to a real-life Bob Clampett bug-out.
'No! Wait!' His voice kept rising. 'Not her! You can't!'
Jack found the mouth tape and slapped it back across his face.
'Keep it down.'
He began twisting and writhing, but the bungees held him in place. As Jack slid out and helped Barbara in, the guy's struggles became even more frantic. High-pitched, panicky squeals leaked through the tape. It looked like a fresh wet stain was spreading across his crotch.
The guy knew he was about to be repaid in kind and Jack savored his terror. What had gone around was about to come around.
Sweet.
'Thank you,' she said. 'Now please close the door.'
Jack hesitated. 'I don't know. He might-'
'He's secure. And I need privacy for this.'
'All right. But I'll be right outside. Yell if you need me.'
'I will. Thank you.'
As Jack pushed the doors closed he saw Barbara remove a paper sack from her shoulder bag. It read 'Ace Hardware.'
Hoo boy.
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned popped into his head, and he thought how a scorned woman's fury couldn't hold a candle to that of the mother of a brutalized child.
3
Dawn was dressed and waiting when Gilda opened the door. Her belly still bulged some, and she could have worn one of her maternity tops, but she totally refused. She was so done with maternity clothes. She'd opted for a loose sweat suit. The opposite of stylish, but until she lost these pregnancy pounds, she'd opt for comfort over style.
She'd expected a knock first, but apparently the old bat didn't think Dawn deserved the courtesy. Because she was staying and Dawn was going.
