Africa.”
“So what? Investigations blow over.”
“I asked you to supply me with something AIDS patients die from every day. Not some bizarre virus that in the last twenty years has killed maybe two dozen people in the entire United States.”
“But this is expensive product. I give you the best price anywhere.”
“I told you, it’s not a question of price, asshole.”
“Don’t call me an asshole.”
“Then don’t act like one.”
“What you want us to do?”
“I want my money back.”
“Oh, for sure. Would you like that with or without interest?”
“You think I’m joking?”
Aman leaned into the table. “Mr. Yuri, you are in Ciudad del Este, not Bloomingdale’s. There are no refunds.”
Yuri reached across the table and grabbed him by the throat. “You move, and I’ll crush your windpipe.”
Aman’s eyes bulged as he gasped for air, but he didn’t dare fight with Yuri. Fahid looked on, too afraid to intervene.
“Stay right there, Fahid. I’m aiming straight at your balls.”
Fahid glanced down to see a.22-caliber pistol with a long silencer between his knees. Yuri still had his other hand around Aman’s throat. The man’s face was turning blue.
Fahid said, “Yuri, come on. Can’t we work this out?”
“Just give me my money back.”
Fahid glanced once more at Yuri’s pistol. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“I want to hear it from Aman.”
“Take your hand off his throat, and he’ll tell you.”
He didn’t let go. “A simple nod will do. What’s it going to be, Aman? Do I get my money?”
Saliva dribbled from the corner of Amam’s mouth. He grunted, but the response was unintelligible.
Yuri tightened his grip. “Am I going to get my money back or not?”
Beads of sweat ran from Aman’s brow as he struggled to breathe through his compressed windpipe.
“I’m waiting,” said Yuri.
His eyes rolled back in their sockets, and his lashes fluttered, as if he were on the verge of losing consciousness.
“Let go of him,” said Fahid.
“Shut up. You got five seconds, Aman.”
Aman stiffened. His nostrils flared and whistled as he sucked desperately for air. He raised his right hand and curled his fingers into a fist. It shook unsteadily for a few seconds, and then he slowly raised the middle finger.
“You son of a bitch!”
Yuri lunged forward, knocking over the table as he pounced on Aman and flipped him onto his belly. With a knee against Aman’s tricep for leverage, he jerked back on the forearm. It was like a gunshot, the sound of bone snapping, and Aman let out a horrible scream as his elbow bent in the wrong direction.
It all happened before Fahid could even blink. Yuri flipped Aman over and jammed a gun into his crotch.
“Stay back, Fahid, or your friend gets an instant vasectomy.”
Aman was screaming in pain. There were no other patrons in the restaurant, but the waiters caught a quick look at the commotion and didn’t stop running until they were across the street, all in keeping with the silent code of survival in Ciudad del Este: Look the other way.
Yuri grabbed Aman’s hand and shoved his middle finger into his mouth. “Give it to me!”
Fahid stepped forward, but Yuri pressed the gun deeper into his friend’s groin. “Back off, Fahid, or I’ll shoot him.”
Fahid froze. Yuri crammed the finger farther down Aman’s throat, past the second knuckle and all the way to the base. “Bite it! I want that finger!”
Aman pleaded with a whimper, his eyes watering. Yuri answered with a muffled shot from his silenced pistol. It shattered Aman’s left foot. His leg jerked, as if jolted by electricity, and even with his finger halfway down his throat he managed to emit a muted scream.
“Bite it off, right now!”
Aman grimaced, but his jaw tightened at Yuri’s command.
“Harder. Bite it all the way through!”
Aman’s body shook. Blood ran from his mouth as the teeth tore through the skin and tendons.
“Yuri, stop,” said Fahid.
“All the way,” he told Aman.
“He’s going into shock,” said Fahid.
Blood was running down both sides of his face, pooling in the ears. His teeth clenched even tighter as the incisors crushed the bone.
“Let me hear it snap!”
Fahid said, “Stop, okay? I’ll get you your money. Consider it my debt. Just let him go.”
Yuri looked up at Fahid, then down at Aman. Blood covered his cheeks, his foot was a mangled mess, and his left arm resembled a pretzel. Yuri yanked the middle finger from the clutch of Aman’s jaws. It was a broken and twisted stick of raw meat, bitten down to the bone.
“You disgust me,” said Yuri. As he rose, he gave two quick punches to Aman’s busted elbow, eliciting the loudest scream yet. Aman rolled on the floor in agony, as if not sure which of his painful wounds to tend to.
Yuri said, “I want every penny before I leave town. Not just this order. All six orders.”
“I’ll deliver it to your hotel tonight,” said Fahid. “Then we’re square, right?”
“We’ll never be square. You assholes cost me my biggest contract ever.”
“What?”
“Those bastards I lined up from my Miami office. They cut me off. And it’s your fault. You and your fucking West Nile virus.”
He turned and stomped on Aman’s bloody foot, drawing one last cry of pain.
Fahid said, “Yuri, I’m sorry about this.”
“Not half as sorry as those boys who pulled my contract are going to be.”
He tucked his gun into the holster hidden beneath his shirt, dropped twenty dollars’ worth of Paraguayan
33
•
At 8 A.M. Jack was ready to leave for the courthouse. Cindy had gone into the studio two hours earlier, something about morning light being best for an outdoor shoot. He went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee to go. Cindy’s mother was at the table reading the paper.
“Have a good one,” said Jack.
“Mmm hmm,” she said, her eyes never leaving the crossword puzzle.
Jack started out, then stopped. “Evelyn, I just wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting Cindy and me stay here with you.”
She looked up from her newspaper. “You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my daughter.”
If the words hadn’t completely conveyed it, the tone made it clear that she wasn’t doing it for his sake. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“What about?”
