We found the freight elevator in the back, and we were able to at least make it to the ground floor undetected. The doors opened, and I spotted a janitor’s closet. It took two extra-large garbage bags to cover the unconscious vic. Ronnie convinced me to poke holes in the bag around his face so he wouldn’t suffocate. That was too bad, because I was hoping I could tell her I “accidentally” asphyxiated him.
I sent Veronica to find a cab, and she showed up with my former driver. I guess the guy liked the three-figure tip I gave him. He said nothing as I loaded Vic’s body into his trunk.
“Your hands are bleeding.” Ronnie took my hands in hers and examined the torn-up knuckles. “You got that from…” Her eyes darted between the driver in front of us and the trunk behind us. “From the elevator?”
I shook my head. “No. They got torn up while I was trying to open a toy.”
“I hate those things!” The driver spoke up with a grin in the rearview window. “It should be criminal to make the plastic covers for toys!”
I gave him a nod that hopefully conveyed something like, Yeah, me too. Stop talking to us. He seemed to take the hint and focused on getting us back to the airport. I’d texted the pilot, and he found us an alternative way in so we wouldn’t have to go through security checkpoints.
“Well, I hope they have some bandages on the plane,” Veronica said quietly as she continued inspecting my wounds. “You could get a serious infection.”
I didn’t say anything. Frankly, I was wiped out. Dekker was far too dangerous to be dragged around alive. But Ronnie wouldn’t let me kill him. Oh, sure, I could just off him anyway. That was what I would’ve done pre-Veronica Gale. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill him with her right here. It was just too complicated.
So how it came to pass that Arje Dekker was tied up in one of the family jet’s bathrooms was still unsettling even after we took off.
“Sorry, Cy,” Veronica apologized for the eleventh time since we’d smuggled him on board. “We’ll come up with what to do with him.”
I ran my hands through my hair. Yes, I supposed she was right. I had no clue how to manage it, but oh, well.
“How did your research go?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.
“Well,” Ronnie started. “I found some information. Richard was very helpful.”
“Are you stalling?”
“No.” But the way she looked nervously from side to side said otherwise.
“Then what did you find out?” I reached for the files she’d been carrying in her bag. She handed them to me hesitantly.
The look on her face made me pause. “Would you rather tell me or let me read it for myself?”
Ronnie shook her head slowly. “I’ll tell you. It’s just that…well, I found something out that kind of upset me.”
It’s always a shock when your heroes fall. It’s even harder to watch the face of someone you care about when they realize what they believe is a lie.
“Senator Anderson was involved with a couple of women who weren’t his wife.” She fidgeted with her hair.
“Okay.”
“He apparently”-I noted how she said the word, as if saying it that way would make it less true-“was involved with a couple of prostitutes from the same escort service.”
My heart wrenched as she held out two photos. I knew this was hard for her. The pictures revealed a man in flagrante delicto with two women at the same time. While I was impressed, I thought it wouldn’t be wise to say so.
“I guess he wasn’t all I thought he was,” Veronica said finally.
With a sigh I gathered her into my arms. Something inside me begged me never to disappoint her like Anderson had.
“Nobody’s perfect, Ronnie,” I said softly as she pulled away. Why was she pulling away?
“I thought he was. I thought he was perfect. Why didn’t these photos run in the United States?”
“It’s hard to say. The media isn’t always as objective as we’d like them to be.”
“And if I didn’t know about this after all my research, what else didn’t I know?” Her calm voice quavered, betraying the agony beneath her words.
“Probably a lot.” I had some strong opinions here but decided this wasn’t the time to bring it up. The fact is that many politicians are corrupt or crooked or easily seduced. Usually sexual deviances are just the tip of the iceberg. I was a bit irritated that Veronica had put this man on a pedestal in the first place.
“You don’t understand, Cy.” She dropped her head into her hands. “This guy and his volunteers were my family when I didn’t have one.”
“I can understand that. But the fact that you are in education should tell you that things aren’t always what they seem. You’ve learned to look at people and ideas from all sides before drawing conclusions.” Right? She had to do that. It was part of the core of knowledge. Critical thinking meant you didn’t hedge your bets.
“You mean like what I thought about you?” She motioned toward the back of the plane. “Or Dekker? Yeah. I’ve been really good at drawing conclusions.”
When dealing with women, you have to tread carefully. Somehow I expected this was one case where she wouldn’t necessarily want me to agree. Then again, if I sugarcoated the truth, how was I helping her learn?
“But you know better now,” I replied.
She looked up sharply, fire in her eyes. I knew it. There was no right way to play this one.
Veronica stood and stalked toward the back of the plane, then plunked herself in a chair by the window.
Okay, that conversation was done. I wasn’t going to follow her back and smooth things over. She was wrong. She even admitted it. How mature to throw a fit like that.
Besides, I had other problems. One was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in the bathroom. And the problem was that he was still breathing. Not good.
Maybe I needed to cut Veronica Gale loose once and for all. Just drop her off at her precious university while she still believed that Anderson ’s only sins were sexual. It had been a mistake to send her to the newspaper. What was I thinking? This kid had one hero-one! And I imposed my will to make her see what a fool she was.
And yes, she’d been wrong about me. But why did I care? Lots of people had misconceptions about Coney Island Bombay. I never cared before. And it wasn’t like I wanted her to know what I really was. So why did I want her to see me differently?
I got up and moved past the sulking Ronnie toward the tiny bathroom where Dekker was.
“Hello, Arje,” I said as I closed the door and sat down on the toilet seat.
Dekker glared but said nothing. Mainly this was because of the duct tape covering his mouth. He was pissed off, but it didn’t matter. I had him tied up pretty well. So what made me reach over and rip the tape off of his face?
“So, you probably know you are going to die,” I said as simply as I could.
“But I’m not dead yet, Bombay. Why is that, I wonder?”
“You can thank Ronnie for that. She gets a little freaked out by violence.”
Dekker grinned. “Yeah. Funny how she ended up around us.”
I toyed with asking him what he thought he knew about me, but changed my mind. “What is it with women anyway? Why do they question our need for fighting?”
Arje looked at the door, then at me. “I don’t know. Never really had a relationship with anyone other than whores. And they were paid to keep their mouths shut. But I know what you’re saying.”
I leaned back against the wall. “I like fighting. I enjoy competing. I know it’s barbaric.” And I did too.
Dekker sighed. “And I like war.”
I looked up at him. “Yes, but you also like killing innocents along with soldiers.”
He nodded. “You’ve heard the rumors, then. I’m surprised someone like you would believe everything you read.”