“I know you… can't. You still want… to protect me,” she said with a sad smile.
NINETEEN
DECEMBER 2, 2788
“This is getting ridiculous.”
“I agree.”
“How long has it been?”
“Twenty hours.”
Twenty hours holed up in an opium house and no Raj Gupta. Maggie and I wanted to have another brace session with the punk, see if we could learn a little about his movie career, like who funded the pictures and whom they were sold to. Find our snuff film buyer, and we likely find our barge murderer. Problem was the punk hadn't shown his pretty-boy face, and I was getting damn sick of this dump. “He must be in hiding,” I said.
“What do you want to do?”
I had jungle on my mind. I wanted to fly back out to see Niki. I wanted to pick her up and carry her into the jungle with me. I wanted her to breathe normal so we could leave the respirator behind. I wanted to find a nice pile of leaves, maybe some soft moss under a tree and lay down with her, maybe sleeping, maybe not, the two of us just lying there until the jungle took us with its creeping vines and its sprawling root systems. That was what I wanted to do.
“What do you think, Juno?” Maggie was getting antsy. She was feeling the pressure of the clock. Adela's time was running out.
“Let's get the hell out of here,” I said.
Maggie and I snuck out the back, careful not to step on any upturned nails poking out of the gnarled scrap wood that used to be the back porch.
“What now?” asked Maggie.
“Beats me.”
“I can't keep calling in sick like this.”
“Today's only the third day, isn't it?”
“Today's the second. Yesterday was already scheduled as a day off. But still…”
Since the three-hour boat ride back to Koba, we'd been striking out. We wanted to get the porn scheme fleshed out… so to speak. We tried tracking down Yuri Kiper, but according to his neighbors, the cameraman hadn't been home. We tried calling his work, but the people at Lagarto Libre said he was on vacation, and no, they didn't know where he'd gone. Ian was playing defense, and playing it well.
Maggie and I shuffled down the street, with no particular destination in mind, just walking to be walking. I was already sweating. I looked up and caught a rare view of blue sky. I was glad to see it, knowing full well that when the rains quit, it would be hot like this all the time, and it wouldn't take more than a couple sweat-soaked days for me to start wishing it was still raining.
Maggie said, “What do we know about Liz?”
We know how she sucks cock. We know what she looks like with a dick up her snatch. We know what she looks like with her throat cut. “Not much. I don't even know her real last name.”
“Well, she's the only other person that we know who was involved in those movies.”
“Yeah.” I didn't want to talk to Liz. I didn't want to see her after watching those vids. Partly because she scared me, partly because she disgusted me, but mostly because she turned me on, and that was what scared and disgusted me more than anything else.
The clouds were back. It had only been a few hours, but the stars were all long gone. It felt good to be sitting outside and, at the same time, fully dry. I rubbed my good hand over my chest and didn't feel any chafing, unlike my legs, which stung where my thighs rubbed together from spending too much time in the rain. I'd have to put some salve down there-you leave a sore spot like that untreated long enough, and you were begging for the rot.
Maggie and I were sitting on the rooftop across the street from Liz's. There was a constant parade of people going in and out of the seafood place under her apartment. We kept an eye on her window, wishing we could see more than we could. The curtains were open and the lights were on, but all we could see was the living room, which was empty. We knew she was home. We saw her go in with Ian an hour ago, the lights coming on a few minutes after.
A door slammed nearby, and Maggie and I both jumped. We both felt edgy being this close to KOP station. The fear of running into one of Ian's cop friends around here had us looking over our shoulders like a couple of paranoids.
“There he is,” said Maggie.
I looked at the window where a naked Ian was now standing, gazing down at the street with a drink in his hand. He had a classic 'roid-head physique-maxipecs up high and minipackage down low.
He turned around and gave us a view of his high-toned ass before stepping away and coming back a minute later, still naked but sans the drink. Liz appeared on his elbow in a lively red number that left no doubt that she was very much alive despite the lifeless state she was in the last time I'd seen her.
They talked for a few minutes, about what we couldn't tell. Then they exchanged a long, deep kiss that left Ian popping wood-or should I say twig? Ian left Liz standing by the window and came back shortly after with clothes on. Again they kissed, but this time it was just a peck that I figured for a good-bye kiss. They disappeared from the window. A couple minutes later, Ian exited the restaurant and strutted down the block.
“You sure about this, Juno?”
“Yeah. Call if you see Ian come back.” I started walking away and then turned back. “I gave you the number, right?” We'd already made our new phones exchange numbers. I remembered syncing them up, yet I was driven to ask out of some nervous compulsion.
“Yeah. I got it.”
“Good.”
I took the elevator down to the main floor of the office building and crossed the lobby, stopping at the glass door to look out at the street. From my vantage, I scanned pedestrian faces, looking for cops and not seeing any. I swung the door wide and hustled across the street and into the restaurant. I ignored the maitre d' and followed the same path across the restaurant floor that Ian had followed when we'd watched from the camera in his hair. I stepped into the kitchen and passed through, catching little notice from the kitchen staff. They must've been good and used to men heading upstairs.
I climbed the creaky steps and knocked on the door. Liz pulled the door open, and I thought I caught a twinkle in her eye upon recognizing me. “Come in,” she said.
“Sorry to barge in on you,” I mumbled.
“Who's barging in? I invited you, remember?”
I followed her into the living room. I went to the window where I'd be visible to Maggie, just in case…
“Would you like a drink?”
“Brandy.”
Liz stepped over to a freestanding liquor cabinet with a roll top and poured enough fingers to make a hand. She filled another glass for herself and came over to me. I took my glass, keenly aware of the brush she gave my hand in the exchange.
I hurried a long sip, feeling the need to dampen my jingling nerves.
“What brings you here, officer?”
“I'm not a cop.”
“Indulge me.”
“What is it with you and cops?”
She tasted her brandy instead of answering. I was glad to be catching a close-up of her red dress-slinky, silky, and oh so skimpy.
I took another deep swig. “How's your boyfriend?”
