The Wrath of Angels

I woke shortly after seven. Beside me, the bed was empty. I showered, dressed, and went downstairs. The apartment was quiet. When I entered the kitchen, a middle-aged man was preparing the day’s food, and in the restaurant a woman in her sixties was serving coffee and bagels to a short line of customers. Where Epstein and I had sat the night before, an elderly couple now shared a copy of the Forward.

‘Where is Liat?’ I asked the woman behind the counter.

She shrugged, then fumbled in her apron and produced a note. It was not from Liat, but from Epstein. It read:

Progress being made.

Please stay another night.

E

I left the restaurant. One of Epstein’s young men sat at a table outside, drinking mint tea. He didn’t glance at me when I appeared, nor did he try to follow. I had coffee at a bakery on Houston, and thought of Liat. I wondered where she was, and I thought that I knew.

I believed that she was telling Epstein of my wounds.

I spent the rest of the morning drifting, browsing in bookstores and what few record stores remained in the city – Other Music at 4th and Broadway, Academy Records on West 18th Street – before meeting Angel and Louis for lunch at the Brickyard in Hell’s Kitchen.

‘You look different,’ said Angel.

‘Do I?’

‘Yeah, like the cat that got the cream, except maybe a cat that thinks the cream might have been spiked. This woman you were staying with, Liat, what did she look like, exactly?’

‘Old,’ I said.

‘Really?’

‘And gray.’

‘You don’t say? I bet she was a heavy-set woman too.’

‘Very.’

‘I knew it. So she bore no resemblance to that slim, dark-haired piece of work who was pouring the wine last night?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘That’s very reassuring. Then I guess we’re not celebrating the end of the longest dry spell since the Dust Bowl?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘we’re not celebrating anything. You ordering the chicken wings?’

‘Yep.’

‘Try not to choke on a bone. I’m not sure I could find it in my heart to save you.’

Louis’s mouth twitched. It might have been a smile.

‘For a man who just got laid by one of the Chosen People, you don’t look too happy,’ he said.

‘That’s a large assumption.’

‘You saying I’m wrong?’

‘I’m not saying anything.’

‘Okay, man, be coy.’

‘Is telling you that it’s none of your damn business either way being coy?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Fine. Then I’m being coy.’

‘Well, either you didn’t get laid, or you did get laid and it was no good, because you still don’t look completely happy.’

He was right. I couldn’t have explained why, even if I’d wanted to, except that I had learned nothing of Liat beyond the scent of her body, the curve of her spine, and the taste of her, while I felt that she had looked deep into me. It was nothing to do with her silence: even as she came her eyes were wide, and her fingers touched my oldest, deepest wounds while her eyes sought the scars on my soul, and I sensed her memorizing those too so that she might tell others of what she had discovered.

‘It was a strange night, that’s all,’ I said.

‘Good sex is wasted on you,’ said Angel, with feeling. ‘You’re a lost cause.’

17

Epstein left a message on my cell phone inviting me to meet him at ‘our usual venue’ at nine that night. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was staying in Liat’s apartment again; it wasn’t that I minded being used for sex so much as I minded being used for something else under the pretense of sex. I called my old NYPD mentor and partner, Walter Cole, and told him that I might need that offer of a bed after all. He told me in turn that they’d let the dog sleep outside tonight, and I could have its basket. I think Walter was still sore that I’d once named a dog after him, even if it was a very nice dog.

Once again Angel and Louis drifted along behind me as we approached the diner, and once again I was shadowed by Epstein’s people. The same, dour, dark-haired young man was standing outside the restaurant when I arrived, still wearing a jacket that was too warm for the weather and holding on very tightly to the gun beneath it. If anything, he looked even more unhappy than the last time we’d met.

‘You should try a loose shirt,’ I said. ‘Or a smaller gun.’

‘Go fuck yourself,’ he said. He didn’t even look at me when he spoke.

‘You learn that language at Hebrew school? Standards are falling.’

‘Fuck you, prick,’ he said, still not looking at me. He was dumb as well as hostile. If you’re going to mouth off at someone then, gun or no gun, it’s a bad idea to allow them a free swing at you. I didn’t take the opportunity to sock him in the jaw or the kidneys, though. I was afraid that he might shoot his foot off. Worse, I was afraid that he might shoot my foot off.

‘Did I do something to upset you?’ I said.

He didn’t reply, just blinked and scowled some more. It was strange, but I thought he might have been trying not to cry.

‘You need to watch your manners,’ I said.

I could see his jaw tensing as his teeth clenched. He looked like he might be about to take a swing at me, or even pull that gun, but he brought himself under control and let out a breath.

‘The rabbi is waiting for you,’ he said.

‘Thanks. It’s been nice talking to you. Let’s not do it again sometime.’

I stepped into the restaurant. Liat was still not present. Instead, the older woman who had handed me the note earlier that day was fussing about behind the counter, and Epstein was seated at the same table as before. When I sat down, Epstein raised an index finger to the woman. She produced two cups of thick, dark Arab coffee, and two small glasses of ice water, then disappeared into the kitchen. A minute or so later, I heard a door slam closed somewhere upstairs. There would be no food and no kosher wine tonight, it seemed.

‘I get the feeling I’ve used up my hospitality quota,’ I said.

‘Not at all,’ said Epstein. ‘If you’d prefer wine, there is a cooler behind the counter, and some food has been prepared for you, should you be hungry.’

‘Coffee is fine.’

‘What were you and Adiv talking about outside?’

‘Just exchanging pleasantries.’

Epstein’s eyes twinkled.

‘You know, his name means “pleasant” in both Arabic and Hebrew; “pleasant”, and “grateful”.’

‘Well, it’s very appropriate. He has quite the career ahead of him as a greeter.’

‘He has feelings for Liat,’ said Epstein.

He was young, much younger than Liat. These things hurt a lot when you’re young. Then again, they also hurt like a bitch when you’re older.

‘And how does she feel about him?’