I found the A-side of the first tape, which had been rewound, dropped it in, and started listening. After a very short time, it was clear that Cyrus had gone over to the dark side early on. What was interesting was to hear Blackmon, the nonpsychopath, struggle with the pinpoint effectiveness of vigilantism versus the slow grind of due process. He talked about Mossad and its efforts after the 1972 Olympics to hunt down and murder every terrorist involved in that bloody fiasco. He talked about Pablo Escobar and how the only reason he was ever caught was that the vigilante group Los Pepes had turned the tables on him, kidnapping his family and friends, killing members of his crew, and using all manner of violence to persuade people not to help him. He made the point that Los Pepes was very likely made up of moonlighting police and military officers who followed the rules by day and made the real progress at night. He made a persuasive argument for the ends justifying the means, at least in the case of terrorists determined to nuke us all to kingdom come.
I was at the beginning of the first tape, side A, when my phone rang. Private call. It was either Thorne or Kraft. I flipped it open and answered.
“I got your e-mail. I’m on my way there.”
It was Kraft. I checked my watch. It was just about nine in the morning. “How long?”
“It will be a few hours. When I got closer, we can decide where to meet. Keep the key with you, and we need a safe word.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I call and for any reason you need to tell me not to come in, use the word quiet, and I’ll know. I’ll call you.”
Click.
I hated how he did that-kept all the power over our communication. Still, the news was good, and I wanted to share it. I went downstairs to tell Harvey.
From the top of the stairs, I heard the unmistakable razor-blades-and-vodka voice of Tom Waits. I slipped quietly down, trying to stay under the sound of “Jersey Girl,” one of the all-time great songs about being in love when it’s easy. Its gently swooping sha-la-las and quietly strutting acoustic guitar sounded like boardwalks and striped cabanas and ice cream that drips out of the cone and down your hand, the sweet cream mixing with the taste of salt on your skin.
A set of packed bags was at the bottom of the stairs, and Harvey and Rachel were in the front room, the one with the new sound system. Neither noticed me, but the planet could have fallen into the sun and they wouldn’t have noticed, because Harvey was on his feet, and Rachel was in his arms, and they were dancing.
They weren’t moving much; it was more like swaying. But it was enough to imagine them years before on a dance floor somewhere, when Harvey had his legs under him and could do what he loved to do and move the way he wanted to move.
Harvey had been a good dancer. I could see it in the way he held Rachel, with one hand flat against the small of her back, his wrist cocked just so. His other hand, with hers in it, was high in the air, in case he was struck with the impulse to spin her. Rachel’s head was tucked under his chin, and his eyes were closed, and all that weight that he carried around in his life was just…gone. He was floating. That’s what she did for him. No matter what she was, no matter what she said or how I felt about her, some part of her loved him, and every part of him loved her beyond words. She made him dance.
Watching them together, holding each other, made it easy to understand why he would do anything for her. It also made me wonder what it would be like to be loved that way.
Nothing else matters in this whole wide world,
When you’re in love with a Jersey girl…
They were saying goodbye to each other. I sat down on the steps and waited for their music to end.
34
I DIDN’T REMEMBER RACHEL HAVING AS MANY BAGS AS I had to load into the Durango or that they were that heavy. I thought about checking for silverware, but that might have been considered inflammatory.
Rachel had wanted to take a cab to the airport, but Harvey insisted that I drive her.
“I wish you would go with us,” I said to him. Rachel was in the car waiting.
“I cannot,” was all he would say.
“You shouldn’t be here alone.”
“It is unlikely that Mr. Kraft will call before you get back. Besides, you have your phone with you and the key. If he calls, you can make arrangements to meet somewhere.”
He was right. It had been just a little over an hour since Kraft and I had spoken. He wasn’t likely to check back in before I got back. Besides, if it made Harvey feel better to know that Rachel was safely on her way, it was worth the effort. I just didn’t want to leave him alone. I had tried to call Radik and got his voice mail.
“Give me your phone.”
He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his cell. I programmed in Radik’s number. “Keep checking with him. If you can get him and you can communicate, ask him to come over. If the land line rings, don’t answer it.”
I checked my watch. Ninety minutes to her departure time, and she still had to get to the airport, check in, and clear security. I could get Felix or Dan to move her through, but even with that advantage, we had no time to waste. I had to go. I gave him the phone back. “Are you sure-”
“I will be fine. Please, this is hard enough. Just go.”
Rachel didn’t even look at me when I got in and buckled up. Her attention was focused on whatever she saw out her own window. I checked to see that she was strapped in and started the car, and we drove for several miles in silence. While she continued her vigil, I paid attention to the traffic. I still wasn’t accustomed to all the changes the Big Dig had wrought. If I didn’t read the signs, I always ended up somewhere I didn’t want to be.
Eventually, the heavy silence started to feel childish. “Harvey said you’re going to Hawaii.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I didn’t travel a lot when I was with Majestic, but that was one place I always found a way to get to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Dan will probably move you up to first class, which is nice on such a long haul.”
She didn’t answer. Screw it. At least I gave it a shot. But then she turned her head, and I happened to catch just a glimpse of what was going on. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and wiped them with a swipe of her thumb.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Harvey said you always wanted to go to Hawaii.”
“Not like this.” She turned away again, slipped on a pair of shades, and didn’t say another word until we pulled up to the Majestic curb. We got out and met at the trunk, where a skycap was already pulling out her bags.
“Where to, Miss?”
“Molokai.” She tried to hand him the ticket.
“You’ll have to check in at the counter.” He nodded to a kiosk set up down the curb, then took the bags over and put them in line for her. I slammed the trunk closed and pulled out my phone to call Dan.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting someone to come and take care of you.”
She shook her head and gave me a smile tinged with something that looked like remorse. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”
I put the phone away and went to get back behind the wheel. I took a last look at her across the roof of the car.
“Rachel?”
In the permanent twilight of the covered curbside, she had taken off her sunglasses to dig in her bag, probably for ID, so when she looked up at me, I could see it. She knew she had left something really good behind.
“Be safe.”
I took every yellow light and time-shaving maneuver I could to get back to the house quickly. When I walked back in, something was different. I felt it. The old cliché was true, that you didn’t know how much you missed someone until they were gone. I couldn’t say I missed Rachel, but I did feel that something had shifted. I walked past that seldom-used front room, stopped, and had to come back. It wasn’t the absence of Rachel I was feeling but the presence of someone who shouldn’t have been there.