“Your apartment is still being rebuilt, yaa Sidi,” said Kmuzu. “I’ve made us comfortable in a suite in the east wing. On the first floor, away from your mother and Umm Saad.”
“Thank you, Kmuzu.” I was already thinking about the work I had to do. I couldn’t take any more time off to recuperate. “Is Morgan here now, or do I have to call him?”
“He’s in the antechamber of the office,” said Youssef. “Is that all right?”
“Fine. Youssef, why don’t you give that suitcase back to Kmuzu. He can carry it to our temporary apartment. I want you to let me into Friedlander Bey’s inner office. You don’t think he’d mind if I used it while he’s in the hospital, do you?”
Youssef thought about that for a moment. “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t see any problem.”
I smiled. “Good. I’m gonna have to take care of his business until he’s healthy again.”
“Then I’ll leave you, yaa Sidi,” said Kmuzu. “May I begin working on our charity project?”
“As soon as possible,” I said. “Go in safety.”
“God be with you,” said Kmuzu. He turned toward the servants’ wing. I went on with Youssef to Papa’s private office.
Youssef paused at the threshold. “Shall I send the American in?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “let him wait a couple of minutes. I need my English-language add-on, or I won’t understand a word he says. Would you mind fetching it?” I told him where to find it. “Then when you come back, you can show Morgan in.”
“Of course, O Shaykh.” Youssef hurried away to do my bidding.
I felt an unpleasant thrill when I sat in Friedlander Bey’s chair, as if I’d occupied a place of unholy strength. I didn’t like the feeling at all. For one thing, I had no desire to step into the role of Junior Crime Lord, or even the more legitimate office of International Power Broker. I was at Papa’s feet now; but if, Allah forbid, something terminal were to happen to him, I wouldn’t hang around to be anointed as his successor. I had other plans for my future.
I glanced through the papers on Papa’s desk for a few minutes, finding nothing racy or incriminating. I was about to start rummaging through the drawers when Youssef returned. “I’ve brought the entire rack, yaa Sidi,” he said.
“Thank you, Youssef. Please show Morgan in now.”
“Yes, O Shaykh.” I was getting to like all this subservience, but that was a bad sign.
I chipped in the English daddy just as the big, blond American came in. “Where y’at, man?” he said, grinning. “I never been here before. You got a nice place.”
“Friedlander Bey’s got a nice place,” I said, indicating that Morgan should make himself comfortable. “I’m just his errand boy.”
“Whatever you say. Now, you want to hear what I got?”
I leaned back in the chair. “Where’s Jawarski?” I said.
Morgan’s grin disappeared. “Still don’t know, man. I got the word out to everybody, but I haven’t heard a clue. I don’t think he’s left the city. He’s here somewhere, but he’s done a damn good job of evaporating.”
“Yeah, you right. So what’s the good news?”
He rubbed his stubbly chin. “I know somebody who knows somebody who works for some business front that’s owned by Reda Abu Adil. It’s a shady package delivery service. Anyway, this guy my friend knows says he heard somebody else say that this Paul Jawarski wanted his money. Seems like your friend Abu Adil arranged to make it easy for Jawarski to blast his way out of the pokey.”
“A couple of guards died on account of it, but I don’t suppose that bothers Abu Adil none.”
“I suppose not. So Abu Adil hired Jawarski through this delivery company to come to the city. I don’t know what Abu Adil wanted, but you know what Jawarski’s specialty is. This friend of mine calls it the Jawarski Finishing School.”
“And now Abu Adil is making sure Jawarski stays unstumbled on, right?”
“The way I figure it.”
I closed my eyes and thought about it. It made perfect sense. I didn’t have hard evidence that Abu Adil had hired Jawarski to kill Shaknahyi, but in my heart I knew it was true. I also knew Jawarski had killed Blanca and the others in Shaknahyi’s notebook. And because Lieutenant Hajjar was two-timing both Friedlander Bey and the halls of justice, I was pretty confident that the police were never going to dig Jawarski up. Even if they did, Jawarski would never be prosecuted.
I opened my eyes and stared at Morgan. “Just keep looking, buddy,” I said, “because I don’t think anybody else is.”
“Money?”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You got any money for me?”
I stood up angrily. “No, I ain’t got money for you! I told you I’d pay you another five hundred when you found Jawarski. That’s the deal.”
Morgan stood up. “All right, man, just take it easy, okay?”
I was embarrassed by my outburst. “I’m sorry, Morgan,” I said. “I’m not mad at you. This whole business is making me crazy.”
“Uh yeah. I know you were good friends with Shaknahyi. All right, I’ll keep at it.”
“Thanks, Morgan.” I followed him out of the office and showed him to the front door. “We’re not gonna let them get away with it.”
“Crime don’t pay, right, man?” Morgan grinned and slapped my burned shoulder. The pain made me wince.
“Yeah, you right.” I walked with him down the curving gravel driveway. I wanted to get away from the house, and if I left right now, I could escape without Kmuzu tagging along. “Like a ride to the Budayeen?” I asked.
“No, that’s all right. I got some other stuff to do, man. See you later.”
I turned back toward the house and got the car out of the garage. I thought I’d drop in on my club and see if it was still in one piece.
The day shift was still on, and there were only five or six customers. Indihar frowned and looked away when I caught her eye. I decided to sit at a table, rather than at my usual place at the bar. Pualani came up to say hello. “Want a White Death?” she asked.
“White Death? What’s that?”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Oh, that’s what Chiri calls that awful gin and bingara thing you drink.” She grimaced.
“Yeah, bring me a White Death.” It wasn’t a bad name.
Brandi was on stage, dancing to the Sikh propaganda music that had suddenly become wildly popular. I hated it a lot. I didn’t want to listen to political rantings, even if it had a great beat and a catchy two-bar figure.
“Here you go, boss,” said Pualani, dropping a cocktail napkin in front of me and pinning it in place with a highball glass. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Huh? Oh, sure.”
“Want to ask you about something. I’m thinkin’ of, you know, havin’ my brain wired so I can use moddies?” She cocked her head to the side and peered at me, as if I might not comprehend what she was telling me. She didn’t say anything more.
“Yeah,” I said at last. You had to respond like that with Pualani or you could spend the rest of your life trapped in the same conversation.
“Well, everybody says you know more’n anybody about it. I was wonderin’ if you could, like, recommend somebody?”
“A surgeon?”
“Uhhuh.”
“Well, there’s plenty of doctors around who’ll do it for you. Most of ’em are pretty reliable.”
Pualani gave me a pretty frown. “Well, I was wonderin’ if I could go to your doctor and use your name.”
“Dr. Lisan doesn’t have a private practice. But his assistant, Dr. Yenjknani, is a good man.”
Pualani squinted at me. “Would you write his name down for me?”
“Sure.” I scribbled the name and commcode on the cocktail napkin.
“And also,” she said, “does he do tits?”