Caleb Carr - The Angel Of Darkness

Suddenly Miss Howard’s face, so passionate while giving voice to ideas what I knew were as important to her as any in the world, went completely blank. Her words fell off with a quickness what let me know she’d caught sight of something-and there was only one “something” it could be.

“Where?” I said, whipping my head from side to side. “Where is he?”

Miss Howard put a steadying hand to my shoulder. “Just slow down, Stevie,” she whispered, “If I’m not mistaken, he’s right in front of us…”

I searched the dark road ahead; and there, to be sure, was the silhouette of a small person, the bagginess of the clothes and the bushiness of the hair giving away his identity. El Niño wasn’t moving, either away from or toward us; he seemed to be waiting for our rig to reach him, and as we got closer I began to make out that damned smile again.

“What the hell…” I mumbled. “Is he real , even? The mug gets around quicker than spit.”

“Oh, he’s real, all right,” Miss Howard answered. “The question is, what does he want?”

“Figure we should stop?”

She shook her head. “No. Keep going at a walk.” She pulled out her revolver and placed it in her lap. “Let’s see what happens.”

I followed the order. The aborigine didn’t move, just stood there smiling until we were about twenty feet from him. Then, very deliberately, he put his hands into the air. I drew the Morgan to a halt, and we waited. Lowering one arm, the aborigine pointed to the ground.

“I don’t hurt you,” he said, his smile getting wider. Following his finger, we could see that there was a small bow, a couple more of the plain little arrows, and another wave-bladed kris on the road. “And you don’t shoot me,” he went on, putting his arm back up. “Yes?”

Miss Howard nodded; but she kept the gun right where it was. “All right,” she said. “What is it you want?”

“I to help you!” the aborigine answered. “Sure help you, yes! Sometimes, I help you already.”

“But you’re Señor Linares’s man,” Miss Howard answered. “Why do you help us?”

The aborigine moved to pick up his weapons, prompting Miss Howard to pull back the hammer of her Colt. The little man’s eyes went very wide, and then he threw up his hands again. “Is okay-I no hurt you, lady, and you no shoot me! I help you!”

“Suppose you just tell me why you help us, before you pick those things up,” Miss Howard ordered.

El Niño’s appealing smile returned and then his round features began to display what you might call theatrical disgust. “Oh, is not for me, to work for the señor-no more! He beat me-beat his wife-beat everybody, with fists like-like-” Looking around quickly, the aborigine grabbed a big stone from the side of the road, then held it up to Miss Howard.

“Like rocks,” she said.

“Yes, is true, like rocks!” El Niño answered. “Give me one suit of clothes-” He held his arms up, displaying the rolled-up cuffs of his jacket, and then pointed down at his trousers, what were cut off roughly at the ankles. “Too big! Is not for me. First, one time, I work for father-old señor-”

“For Señor Linares’s father?” Miss Howard asked.

“Yes, lady. He different man. Good man. This son-not the same. Beat everybody with fists, think he great man-because his mama love him too much!”

I burst out laughing at that, and got myself a sharp elbow from Miss Howard for it; but she, too, was having trouble containing her amusement at the little fellow. “And so what do you want from us ?” she asked, lowering the Colt.

El Niño shrugged. “I to work for you, I think. Yes, I think so. I watch you-see you try to find baby Ana. Is good. The señor, he not want you to find her. But she a baby! I think you find her, because you good people. I work for you, I think-sure.”

Miss Howard and I exchanged shocked looks. What were we supposed to say? The idea seemed so strange as to be out of the question, but neither of us particularly wanted to tell him that. Not with that arsenal lying in the road, and knowing that he’d been keeping track of every move we’d made for weeks now. There was also the fact that we’d both identified something likable in the little fellow-likable and decent. So maybe it wasn’t so peculiar a notion after all.

“But,” Miss Howard said, “what do you mean, ‘work’ for us? What would you do?”

The aborigine was about to answer, but first he eyed his possessions on the road. “I can pick up?” he said to Miss Howard carefully.

She nodded, looking at him like he was a naughty kid. “ Slowly ,”she said.

He followed the instruction, and tucked all the pieces of his arsenal into big pockets what’d been sewn special inside his jacket. Then he started to approach us, swaggering like a man twice his size. “Many things I do!” he declared. “Protect you from enemies-kill them, or make them sleep! Cook, too!” He pointed at the landscape around us. “Snake, dog-sometimes rat, if you very hungry!” Both Miss Howard and I let moans of disgust out through the smiles that had settled in on our faces. “See things-find things out! If you have El Niño to work for you, you have eyes everywhere !” He passed an arm out across the horizon again.

“And what,” Miss Howard asked, “would be your salary for all this?”

“My sa-?” the aborigine noised, puzzled.

“What would we have to pay you?”

“Oh, pay, yes!” he answered, filling his chest with air proudly. “El Niño Manilaman -Manilamen work only for pay! The señor pay me with nothing-with shit!” I let out another loud laugh, and Miss Howard didn’t even try to stop me; in fact, she joined in, and so did El Niño, who was pleased with our reaction. “With shit he pay me!” he went on. “Bad clothes-food after others have eaten it-and the señora make me to sleep outside, even in winter-time! You can give me good food-bed to sleep in, yes? House has many beds. And you-” He pointed at me and then he did the little dance around his neck with one hand again, causing my grin to shrink suddenly.

“Whoa, now, don’t start that!” I said. “I don’t want any trouble with you-”

“No, no!” he answered. “Not trouble! Clothes! Your clothes-three nights past from here-you do not like your clothes, yes?”

Counting the nights on my fingers and trying to get some idea of what he was talking about, I remembered the trip to Saratoga; and then, in a rush, I recalled my encounter with what I’d taken for a kid in the gardens of the Casino. “So that was you !”I said. “You saw me in the monkey suit!”

“Monkey suit?” El Niño asked, puzzled. “Not for monkeys-fine clothes for fine man-fit me! You do not like them,” he said, putting the finger to his neck again. Then I got it: he’d seen me straining at the white tie, and figured out that I hated wearing the thing.

“Stevie,” Miss Howard said, “what does he mean?”

“He saw me at the Casino-saw that I don’t like wearing them clothes. I think he wants them.” I spoke louder to our new friend: “You want those clothes, is that the deal?”

“Fine clothes for fine man!” he answered, slapping his chest. “You give them to El Niño, he work for you!”

I shook my head. “But you can’t wear them all the time-”

“Why not?” Miss Howard asked, turning to me. “Frankly, Stevie, I think this fellow can do just about as he pleases.”

I gave that a second’s thought, then nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there, all right. But what the hell’s the Doctor going to say?”

“When we tell him that we’ve brought one of our main opponents over to our side?” Miss Howard countered with a smile. “What do you think he’s going to say?”