What I had noticed, in fact, was the blond guy from Saigon. Hilger’s backup. And he was walking straight toward me.
24
DOX WAS STANDING next to his cot, doing isometric exercises against his chains. He knew from the sounds on the boat that they were in a port somewhere; that, unusually, three of them were off the boat; that the one who’d stayed behind was Uncle Fester. Despite knowing it was a victory for the psycho, he couldn’t help feeling dread. Fester was going to give him the “surprise” now, he could feel it. That, or something worse.
Things were quiet for a while, and then he heard Fester’s footsteps, coming down the stairs, heading his way. He sat up on the cot and pulled futilely against the chains, not for the first time. Goddamnit, if there had been just a little more slack. He’d thought a hundred times about improvising a weapon, something sharp, but there wasn’t a single thing in the cabin, not a doorstop or a window crank, the workings in the toilet tank, nothing. With a weapon, he might, just might, have had a chance. But as it was, he couldn’t stand straight, he could barely fucking move, he couldn’t even defend himself against Fester’s knees and elbows when the psycho paid him a visit, how the hell was he going to take the man out like he needed to?
Fester looked in through the window, then opened the door. He was carrying a large canvas bag and smiling, and Dox thought, Nothing good can come of this.
“I was just thinking about you, Uncle Fester,” Dox said.
Fester smiled. “Yeah? I’m glad I didn’t find you touching yourself, then. It would have been embarrassing.”
“Well, funny you should say that, ’cause that’s exactly the thing I was thinking about. I was wondering if you’d ever had any kind of psychosexual workup. I think you might be intrigued by the insights. Did you know that eighty-five percent of people with an inclination to torture were bed wetters and fire setters?”
Fester’s eyes narrowed and his ears flattened against his scalp, and Dox was pleasantly surprised. He was making this shit up as he went along, but who could say what kind of fucked-up childhood might produce an adult specimen like Uncle Fester? Anyway, it seemed like he’d just hit a nerve.
“No,” Fester said. “I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s all in the New England Journal of Medicine and the Harvard Psychiatric Review. You ought to read the articles, you could learn something about your nature.”
“Yeah, cabrón? I wonder why you enjoy reading those articles.”
“Oh, psychos like you are a hobby of mine. For example, did you know that almost eighty percent of soldiers who volunteered for work as interrogators in World War Two were denied the necessary security clearances because the tests proved they were latent homosexuals? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. Gay será, será.”
Fester smiled and one of his eyes twitched. “Remember how we talked about these?” he said, reaching into the bag and taking out a car battery and alligator clips. “When we waterboarded you and you screamed like a girl. It made me think…why not?”
“Oh, Fester, you shouldn’t have. Sharing your toys with me like this, it’s touching.”
“Keep talking, motherfucker. It’s a nice warm-up for screaming.”
Dox smiled, continuing to play the game, but inside he felt a rush of adrenaline at the possibility that had just suggested itself. So this was the “surprise.” Fester wasn’t going to settle for a few well-balanced pops today. He wanted to use electricity, instead, which would involve getting close and staying close while he fucked around with a bunch of wires.
No one else was on the boat. There was never going to be a better chance.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Dox said. “Don’t you ever wonder why you enjoy this shit so much? Or were you afraid if people found out about it back in old Mexico they’d have turned you out good and made you somebody’s bitch? And the worst part is-admit now, it’s just the two of us-you secretly wish somebody would.”
Fester smiled his psychopath smile again. “Turn around, cabrón.”
“Sorry, amigo, but giving my back to someone with your documented proclivities would likely spoil my whole weekend.”
“Turn around, cabrón. Or I’ll turn you around.”
Dox felt a dip in the boat that told him someone had just stepped onto it. Then footsteps on the stairs. Shit. He’d been so close to provoking Fester into a heedless charge. Well, maybe he could cause a little more animosity, enough to guarantee another encounter like this one.
“Come on, Fester, tell me the truth. You like those photos, don’t you? Where the men are wearing black leather masks and holding cat-o’-nine tails? Maybe some Nazi SS uniforms, you know what I’m talking about, the good stuff. I’ll bet you’ve got yourself a collection, I’ll bet you know all the best Internet sites.”
Fester’s face went white and Dox thought, Damn, I’ve nailed you dead to rights, you damn pervert.
The door opened and the young-looking guy walked in. He looked at Fester, then at the battery he was holding. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Fester said. “Why are you back so soon?”
“What’s with the battery?” the young guy asked, his expression indicating he had a good idea of the answer and didn’t like it at all.
“Uncle Fester finds gratification in getting in some extra licks when he thinks no one’s looking,” Dox said. “This is just the first time he’s been caught in the act. You are all aware he’s homosexual, right? Ask him about his photo collection.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Fester snarled, and took a step toward Dox.
The young guy had a gun in his hands, and was pointing it at Fester, so fast it seemed like a magic trick. Dox blinked, wondering for a second whether he was seeing this right.
“I can’t allow that,” the young guy said, his voice perfectly calm.
“Mind your own fucking business,” Fester said, and the look in his eyes was so hate-filled and dangerous that Dox decided the young guy had shown first-rate judgment in not waiting to draw his weapon.
“I am,” the young guy said, still in the same no-nonsense tone. “And you’ll thank me for it later, when you’ve had a chance to cool off. For now, I want you to back up and go through that door. If you do anything other than comply with my clear instructions, I will shoot you dead.”
For one second, the room was perfectly silent. Then Dox said, “This is a difficult way to come out of the closet, Fester, but there are organizations that can help you with the transition. Hotlines, things like that. You just have to…”
The young guy took a step back. Keeping the gun on Fester, he turned his head to Dox. “You, shut the fuck up,” he said, and something in his tone made Dox decide he ought to comply.
Fester backed out as directed, and the young guy followed a moment later. Dox heard the door lock, then their footsteps going up the stairs.
He sat there for a long time after, thinking. He wasn’t sure whether he’d just created an opportunity for himself, or a death sentence. The one thing he did know was the next time Fester managed to be alone on the boat with him, he was going to find out.
25
A BEGINNER WOULD HAVE looked more closely, checking his perceptions, telling himself until it was too late it couldn’t be so. Someone with a bit more seasoning would have glanced away, but only after a startled reaction, and some visible effort, which would have warned the enemy he’d been spotted. A real survivor understands the essentials instantly. And what couldn’t be understood now, I would consider later.
I took the steps to the sidewalk and set down the box so I was standing between it and the bike. I put my back to Mr. Blond and started “unlocking” the bike chain, watching him in the side-view mirror attached to my shades. He was twenty yards away, not hurrying, but not taking his time, either. He was wearing a black wool hat, not so much against the cold, I was sure, as to make him harder to describe if there were witnesses. It might have been enough to throw me off, too, but his gait had that same liquid ease I remembered from Saigon, and that was all I’d needed to make him here.