The Chameleon Fallacy (Big Bamboo Book 2) (62 page)

The car slowed and turned sharply, and he heard the sound of the tires on gravel. The wheels stopped and the door opened and he was dragged roughly out. A dog growled close by and he heard the rattle of a chain. He could tell by the noise—or rather, the lack of it—and the freshness in the air that they were out in the country somewhere. He was marched along a corridor and into a room that smelled of roses and strong coffee.

He heard a scrape, and was pushed down onto a hard, straight-backed wooden chair. Someone grabbed his hands and pulled them behind him. He felt the cuffs go on. His feet were held and tied. Somebody frisked him thoroughly, giving his bollocks a gratuitous little squeeze. Only then was the bag removed. The woman who had kicked him in the nuts smirked at him, then spun on her expensive heel and marched out through a pair of open double doors into a garden, leaving them alone.

Monsoon had always told himself that he would never get tied to a woman, or let himself become attached. But against his better judgment, he found himself tied and attached to Fanny Lemming. Handcuffs and clothesline will do that. They were tied back-to-back, their wrists joined by two sets of cuffs and their ankles fastened with the same cord.

“
Are you okay?” Fanny said.

“
Fuck you, bitch,” Monsoon replied amiably.

“
Look, I know you’re upset with me. But we have to cooperate if we’re going to get out of this in one piece.”

“
Congratulations, sweetheart…I’ve met some lying cunts in my time, but you take the fucking cake.”

“
Oh, and you’re Mr. fucking Integrity, I suppose.”

“
Compared to you, yeah.”

“
Listen, where do you think we are?” said Fanny.

“
Your guess is as good as mine.”

“
It’s not a guess, numbnuts. I know where we are. It’s Alphonso Nightingale’s house.”

“
How do you know?”

“
I used to live here.”

“
Jesus. See? I rest my fucking case.”

“
Listen, smartass. Any minute now he’s going to walk in here and ask you where it is, and if you don’t tell him he will fondue your testicles.”

“
Is he gay?”

“
Not fondle, asshole.
Fondue
. Boil them in fucking cheese.”

“
And if I do tell him, he’s just going to give me five million dollars and send me on my way, huh? The only thing that will keep me alive is his not knowing.”

“
Up to you. You’re the one that’s in the shit. I can talk my way out of this. I’ve done it before.”

“
Yeah, well, we both have something he wants. The difference is, he don’t know where mine is.”

“
Keep it up, smart mouth. We’ll see how smart you are when he gets here. Oh, speak of the devil.”

Alphonso Nightingale didn’t exactly look as if he was enjoying the greatest day of his existence when he walked in.

“
Peoples are going to die,” he said, by way of introduction, “unless ah find out everysing ah want to know. And ze first sing ah want to know is, where is it?”

“
A guy I know,” Monsoon said. “He beat me up and stole it. Look at my face.”

“
Ah would razair not. ’Oo is it?”

“
A real tough
hombre
. A guy named Baby Joe.”

“
Baby Joe. ’E does not sound tough. ’Ow did ’e know about it?”

“
I blabbed. We were drinking and I opened my mouth and told him all about it. The next thing, he’s sucker-punched me and swiped it from me.”

“
Careless,
monsieur
. Where will ah find ’im?”

“
The Ritz. He’s staying at the Ritz.”

“
Très bien
. Ah will do business wiz ’im.”

“
So what about our deal?”

“
Deal,
monsieur
? Deal? Are you crazy as well as stupid? Why would ah pay for somesing ah already ’ave?”

“
Baby Joe don’t make deals. He’s not that kind of guy.”

“
Everybody iz zat kind of guy when zere is money.”

“
You don’t know him.”

“
Anyway, ah can always ’ave someone go and persuade ’im to ’and it over.”

“
He’s not an easy dude to persuade.”

“
You ’ave no idea ’ow persuasive ah can be,
monsieur
.”

“
That’s what the last guy said. If you go up against Baby Joe, he’ll kill you. I can make it easy.”

“’
Ow?”

“
His woman. If you take his woman, he won’t give you any trouble.”

“
You know ’er?”

“
Yeah, and she knows me. She trusts me. I can set it up. But we need to make a deal.”

“
Très bien
. Deal we make as follows. You bring woman to Notre Dame, at midnight, an’ perhaps zen ah don’t feel your asshole with strawberries an’ ’and you ovair to gay rugby team. Some of mah people will go wiz you. You will point ’er out to zem. Go now. Ah wish to ’ave a leetle conversation wiz Fanny. Alone.”

Nightingale whistled, and Miss Nutcracker walked back in. She unlocked the cuffs and reset them on Fanny alone. She then flashed a butterfly knife with impressive speed and skill, and slashed the ropes at their ankles. She gave Monsoon a little wave as he headed for the door, rubbing his wrists.

“
Oh. An’ before you go, jus’ remembair. Ah ’ave found you twice. It was ridiculously easy. If ah ’ave to find you a sird time, no one will evair find you again,
tu comprends
? So don’ try anysing stupid. Do ah make mahself clear,
monsieur
?”

***

It was unmistakable: the momentum gathering, the gravity increasing, the pressure building, the leaves at the edge of the whirlpool being swirled ever faster, sucked in toward the vortex. Baby Joe could feel it. It was everywhere. In the light, in the air, in the glances of the people. It was as if he inhabited a different realm, prowling the borders of the shadowlands, passing unseen by the diners and the revelers, the strollers in the streets, the gazers at shop windows. Bound to a course and a destiny in a world unknown to the others. He had known, and he had been right. He looked at the clock on the wall. It seemed to be racing, the seconds and minutes zipping around, moving faster for him than for everybody else, and yet still, the endless waiting moment trapped in time.

From behind the bartender his reflection accused him.
If anything happens to her, it will be because of you. It will be your fault. The darkness at the center of all this is you. The maelstrom, the siren call to destruction, the skirl of the pipes and the beating of the war drums. It was always you. Inescapable forces, deeds set in motion, the act of a play inscribed in blood that must inevitably be acted out to the one end? Bullshit, asshole! It was always fucking you. You
wanted
it. You wanted the dragon to uncoil and slither into the light and the heat. There is no peace in your soul. That’s why you can’t be with her when there is no strife. You could have walked away from this at any time. You lied to her. You made her believe all this shit too, and she did, because she knows you. Because she loves you. And now she’s in danger, and maybe pain, and maybe scared and maybe suffering, and Baby Joe Young, the big, bold hero, is going to ride to the rescue on his shining charger, like Sir fucking Galahad. This ain’t the Round Table, motherfucker. There ain’t no fucking grails, and never were. And you knew that.

He let the whiskey burn in his throat. He closed his eyes. He saw Crispin. Poor, disheveled, beleaguered, bewildered Crispin, with his bloody lip and his black eye. The poor bastard only wanted to go to a birthday party with his friend, for fuck’s sake. He saw him sobbing, his big baby shoulders shaking, his chest heaving.

“
They’ve taken her,” he’d said. “They’ve taken Asia.”

“
Who have?”

“
Gypsies. Some gypsies. We were having a drink at a café. They came down the street. They were playing guitars and violins. It was beautiful. So colorful. One of them asked Asia to dance. She was laughing. Happy. He was whirling her around. Then he started to drag her away. She screamed. I tried to help. I tried to stop them but they punched me in the face. I fell over. I’m so sorry. I tried. Really, I did. Oh, Baby Joe. Oh, Asia. What will they do to her?”

Crispin had broken down again. Baby Joe sat down on the bed beside him. He put his arm around the fat shoulders and smoothed the bouncy blonde hair.

“
It’s okay, pal. You did your best. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry. I’ll find her.”

Crispin looked up and tried to smile.

“
That’s the spirit,” Baby Joe said. “Good man. Now, is there anything else you can tell me that might help me?”

“
Yes, yes. There’s this. While I was on the floor, one of them pushed this into my hand. It’s for you. How do they…what…?”

Baby Joe held up his hand. Crispin was quiet. Baby Joe read:
If you want to see her in one piece again, be at Notre Dame at midnight. Bring the R3. If you are not alone, she dies.

Baby Joe went completely still. He became as a man of stone, monolithic and silent. His eyes were two sapphires set before a fire. It scared Crispin all over again.

“
Baby Joe, Baby Joe. What’s going on? What’s an R3?”

“
Crispin,” Baby Joe said, his voice hard but not stern. “Stay in your room. If you want anything order room service. Don’t answer the phone. I’ll be back in a few hours. With Asia. Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.”

“
Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

“
Find Monsoon fucking Parker,” he said.

Nightingale walked around the two chairs until he was facing Fanny. He stared at her for a moment, as if deep in contemplation. She knew what was coming. The first slap was vicious.

“
Zat was for ze diamonds.”

The second was worse, a stinging backhander.

“
Zat was for breaking my ’eart.”

The third was almost tender.

“
Zat was for being a lying beech.”

Fanny saw Nightingale ball his fist. She closed her eyes. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes. His face was inches from hers.

“
DO YOU ’AVE ANY FUCKING IDEA ’OW MUCH I ’AVE LOVE ZIS DOG?”

She started. Spittle flew into her face but he didn’t hit her.

“
AH AM GOING TO SLICE YOUR FRIEND’S ’EART INTO LEETLE PIECES, IN FRONT OF YOU, AND MAKE YOU EAT IT. YOU ’EAR ME,
SALOT
? FUCKING EAT IT.”

Nightingale turned and strode out through the open doors.

When they saw Asia and Crispin come out of the hotel, Monsoon tapped the driver on the shoulder. The one next to the driver looked at him and Monsoon nodded. The driver was good. He stayed four cars back from the cab, even though it wasn’t necessary. They crossed a bridge and pulled up a block behind the taxi. Asia and Crispin got out and walked down a narrow street lined with cafés on both sides. There were tables outside, and musicians and acrobats and jugglers were performing in the streets.