"You make friends wherever you go, don't you?" Wanda said.
Jay took another sip of water. His head was still not completely clear after the punch he'd taken. "Just a little quirk of mine-I'm not crazy about people with guns who try to force me into cars." After another sip, he said, "What the hell were you thinking? You have my cell number. Why didn't you just call up and go, 'Hey, can we meet?' What is it with you people? Everything has to be cloak-and-dagger. Well, that's how people get hurt. If you're looking for me to say I'm sorry, I won't. 'Cause I'm not. Next time I'll drive the son of a bitch's jaw into his brain. If he has one."
"You done with the macho spiel?" Wanda asked. She didn't take his bait. She showed very little emotion. Mostly she sounded exhausted.
"Yeah," he acknowledged. "More or less."
"I'm not looking for an apology, Jay."
"So what are you looking for, Wanda?"
Wanda Chinkle was not a particularly appealing-looking woman. Her features were fairly plain, even harsh. And she didn't have one of those smiles that covered for her plainness. She rarely smiled, in fact, and when she did, it was more of a grimace than anything that revealed pleasure. Wanda was not someone who experienced a lot of pleasure. Nor did she think she deserved much. She worked, that's what she did. She worked and she thought about work and she slept. That was pretty much her life. At the moment, her life was revealed on her features, making her look even harsher than usual. She appeared not to have had much sleep lately, and tension lines were drawn deep into her forehead and under her eyes.
"I don't think I have to explain myself," Wanda said, "but there is a reason for the cloak-and-dagger stuff. Pretty minor cloak-and-dagger, considering your excessive response." He said nothing, just waited, so she went on. "It's not the smartest thing for me to do, to be seen with you. You come with a lot of baggage, as far as the Bureau is concerned."
"Is that right?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Oh, excuse me," Justin said. "Crazy me. Of course I do. I mean, let's see, first there was the agent who tried to kill me and then put the entire law enforcement community on my tail as if I were a wanted criminal. And then wasn't it you guys who planted an agent on me, who set me up to be killed? And wait, wasn't there an agent who actually let me get sent to Guantanamo where I had the shit tortured out of me… Oh, sorry, wait again, no, that wasn't just some agent, I believe that was you." This time it was Wanda who stayed silent. "I come with baggage?" Jay said. "Go to hell, Wanda. You owe me."
Her voice was quiet when she said, "Yes, I know I do."
"So what are we doing in your car?" he asked. "You want to shoot me just for fun?"
"I've heard worse ideas. But, no, I'm trying to do you a favor."
"Because we're such close friends?"
"I don't know how close we are anymore. But I like to think we're still friends."
"What's the favor?"
"You should leave these cases alone."
He was genuinely puzzled. "What cases?"
"The murders."
"Ron LaSalle and Evan Harmon?"
"That's right."
"Why?"
"I can't get into specifics, Jay. But you have to trust me. You don't understand what you're dealing with. I'm just beginning to see what's under the surface here."
Now he was more than puzzled. He was shocked. "Are these murders connected?"
"I'm not here to give you information, Jay. I'm trying to help you out."
"Why the hell are you involved in either one of them? What makes them federal cases?"
"Look… I've been keeping track of Harmon for a while…"
"For what?"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're better off staying out of it."
"Better off how?"
"Better off by not ruining what I've got going. And better off for your own safety."
"Now you're concerned about my safety?"
"Yes, goddammit, I am."
Justin snorted in disbelief. "Is this coming from Silverbush?"
She looked disgusted. "Give me a break. Larry Silverbush doesn't know his ass from his elbow. But I'm telling you, you should listen to me on this one, Jay. Nothing good is going to come out of it if you force your way in."
"What have you got going? Tell me how the two murders are connected."
"I'm not telling you any such thing. I'm trying to keep you out of trouble, not drag you in."
"This is bullshit, Wanda."
"It's anything but."
"Prove it."
"I don't have to prove it. But I'll prove that I know a lot more than you give me credit for."
"Let's hear."
"You should stay away from Bruno Pecozzi, too."
He thought about what Bruno had said to him, that he had to watch his back. "Have you been tailing me?"
Wanda didn't answer.
"Is Bruno connected to all this?"
Again, not a word from the FBI agent. The silence hung in the car like a cloud of cigarette smoke, thick and unpleasant. Justin knew better than to try to pry more information out of her. And she had to know him well enough to know her words weren't going to keep him from doing what he wanted to do. So the question was: Why was she saying all this to him? What was her goal? What was her angle?
"I hope you don't think this is payback" is what he finally said.
"What I'm telling you just might keep you alive," she said. "So, yes, I think this counts as payback."
"A warning to mind my own business? That's not good enough."
"If you listen to me, you'll thank me."
Justin shook his head. "You're a long way from payback," he told her, "and you know it."
"The only thing I know is that you're a stubborn damn idiot. Which I knew all along, so I can't say I thought you'd really pay attention to me. But you can't say I didn't try," she said.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"Then you're on your own now, Jay."
"It always does seem to come down to that, doesn't it?" he said. Then he opened the door to her car and stepped out into the Rhode Island sunshine. Half a block away, he saw the first thing he'd seen in a while that brightened up his day. An absolutely stunning woman walking toward him. She was tall and moved like a dancer. There was something overwhelmingly sensual about her. Her dark, straight hair rustled in the slight breeze. Her bare shoulders rose and then sloped perfectly, and her arms were muscular and beautifully tapered. Her legs were long and, like the rest of her, perfect. But it was her eyes that grabbed him the most. He caught only a glimpse of them as they passed each other in the street. She had perfect eyes: the color, the shape, the way they seemed to devour her surroundings. She was Asian. Chinese, he thought. The light brown of her eyes seemed to glow against the polished, darker color of her skin. He smiled at her, couldn't help himself, and she turned her head in his direction. Just the slightest of turns. Not really welcoming his silent greeting but not ignoring it, either. Just accepting it as if it were her due. Neither of them slowed down as they passed each other, going in opposite directions, and Justin forced himself not to look back at her. As he kept walking, he felt as if he were leaving a little part of himself behind. And when he knew she would be out of sight, this heavenly creature, he realized that the temperature had turned colder than it was supposed to be. And the sky was grayer. The summer weather had stopped making sense.
Like everything else, Justin thought. Just like everything else. And he headed back to his car.
17
At first she thought, Shit, I did it again, thinking she'd twisted her knee and torn her cartilage. She'd done it two years before, just walking down the street. The operation wasn't bad, but the recovery was a bitch. Then she realized, No, this is worse. This pain is much, much worse. What the hell did I do? And then she saw the Asian woman-a beautiful woman, breathtaking really-and she wondered why the woman looked so happy, how could someone be so happy when she was in so much pain, and it wasn't just her leg now, it was her back, and then her neck-and then she didn't see the Asian woman anymore or anything else. Her eyes closed and she felt herself falling, and then the pain was gone.