Timothy Hallinan - The Fear Artist

“No thanks.”

“Anyway, you’re staying with them unless something-” The cell phone rings. Rafferty glances at it, says, “Janos” to Ming Li, and then, “Yes?” into the phone.

“Shen’s here.”

“Where?”

“Ground floor. The three cops down there all answered their phones a minute ago and met over in front of the mall shrine, and Shen showed up. They’re in a huddle.”

“And the two on the fourth floor?”

“They’re looking over the railing, watching.”

“How does Shen look?”

“Pissed off, and the other three look like they’d like to turn and run. Here come the fourth-floor boys, heading for the escalator. I’ve got to go into a store for a minute. One of them glanced at me.”

“Call me back when you can.” He puts the phone in his pocket and wishes he had a cigarette. How many nights ago was it that he smoked the cabdriver’s, after Shen’s guy almost went off the roof? “I don’t suppose you have a cigarette?”

“I’m young,” Ming Li says, “not stupid. No Murphy?”

“Not yet. But he’s there, I’m sure he is.”

“Then let’s go in.”

“I’m not that sure.” He opens his door. “I need to walk around a little.”

The rain is a fine sprinkle, nearly body temperature. He hasn’t gone ten steps when a mosquito whines in his ear, and then another. He waves a hand around to clear them, feeling the weight of the gun under his shirt. His shoes, soaked again, squelch in the mud. An image of Murphy in his awful shirt, his face red with anger, pops into his mind, and at that precise moment the phone rings.

He grabs it, snaps, “Hold on,” and sprints for the car. Ming Li looks up, startled from some reverie as he jumps into the seat. He says, “Murphy?”

“Let me tell you,” Janos says. “It will interest you, I promise.”

“Do it, do it, but make it short.”

“So Shen goes up to the fourth floor with the two boys who were doing circles up there and goes into the business center. He comes out a minute later, actually scratching his head. For a second I thought he knew he was being watched and he wanted to demonstrate-”

“Get to it.”

“He was scratching his head,” Janos continues implacably, “and then he looks down at his shirt. He pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and has a short conversation, very grim, and then starts running up the escalator. He keeps looking up, as though he’s going all the way to the top, and I’m scrambling to the stairs at the rear, and as I get up to the fifth floor, I hear voices above me, so I go out on the fifth level and walk the length of the plaza, and when I turn, I see Shen up on the sixth level, the top, heading for the stairs as though the place is on fire, and he pulls the door open, and Murphy pushes him away and comes through the door with a woman following him.”

“The woman from the hotel.” In one part of his mind, Rafferty is regretting that he was right about Anna. There can’t be any doubt now.

“Yes, her. Anyway, Shen practically jumps on him. Shouting and waving his arms and-”

“Can you see Murphy now?”

“They’re still going at it.”

“Thanks. Call me if anything changes.”

“If Murphy disappears, you mean.”

“He’s not going to stay in sight. Try to see where he goes, and call me if the woman disappears.”

“Got it.”

Rafferty disconnects and starts the car. Ming Li is looking straight out the window, but he can feel the intensity coming off her in waves. She seems to be heating the car. He says, “You like this, don’t you?”

“Compared to Virginia? This is heaven.”

“Here goes.” He pushes speed dial for Vladimir. “Have your boy call the maid in two minutes,” he says. “He should tell her to open the gate for him. Oh, and it’s raining, so she should come out with an umbrella. Think she’d do that for him?”

Vladimir says, “Is wery handsome boy.”

When Rafferty steps through the half-open gate, the maid lets out a squeak. He’s wearing the one-eared Mortimer Snerd mask.

He says, “Quiet. No one will hurt you.’ He takes her upper arm and tugs her toward the house, slowing for a moment when he sees that the yard is under several inches of water. He says, “Is there a way not to get our feet soaked?”

“You could leave,” the maid says. She’s pale-skinned and Chinese-featured and hard-eyed. Her accent sounds Vietnamese, although the English comes quickly. The squeak aside, she’s handling the situation as though it happens every week.

But she does turn to look back over her shoulder as headlights hit the front of the big house, bringing it sharply out of the darkness and creating an upside-down mirror palace on the water’s surface. Ming Li pulls the Toyota in very slowly, trying to avoid running it off the invisible driveway and into the mud.

“Should she go straight?” Rafferty asks. “And if you tell me a lie and she winds up stuck on the lawn, you’re going for a swim.”

“Straight another two meters,” she says. “Then left to the front of the house.”

“Get in front of the car and guide her in.” He takes the umbrella from her hand.

The two of them back up as the maid waves Ming Li forward, the car churning twin wakes to the right and left. When the Toyota is clear of the closing gates, Rafferty holds up both hands and the car stops. He takes the maid’s arm. “How many people inside?”

“Two. Neeni and the girl.”

“Where’s the other maid-Phung? Where’s Wife Number Two?”

“Phung has the night off. Won’t come back until tomorrow morning. The missus, who knows? Shopping, maybe. Maybe in some hotel with someone she’s known half an hour.”

“You don’t like her.”

“I don’t like any of them except Neeni, the poor thing.”

“Where are they? Neeni and the girl?”

The car door opens, and Ming Li gets out. She’s wearing a Morticia Addams mask they’d picked up that morning at Zombietown, its long, black nylon hair hanging over a loose white blouse and dark jeans.

“Neeni is in bed,” the maid says, looking at Ming Li. “The girl, who knows? Cutting worms in half, maybe. Or she could be watching us right this minute.”

“Okay. I need you to get into the car.”

She shakes her head impatiently. “No. What you need is for me to open the door. I have to key in the alarm and then go in and enter the code that resets it, or it’ll go off.” She shakes her arm free and heads for the house.

“Yes,” Rafferty says, “that’s what I meant,” and splashes through water at least three inches deep.

Catching up to him to get under the umbrella, Ming Li says, “I told you to get a scarier mask.”

“He doesn’t need to scare me,” the maid says over her shoulder. “I only work here, and I won’t be doing that for much longer. Just don’t hurt Neeni.”

“I’m not going to hurt anybody,” Rafferty says.

“Well,” the maid says, “good luck with that.”

They step up onto the porch, the surface of which is about half an inch above the water, and the maid keys in a combination of numbers on a pad to the left of the door. The door clicks, and she pushes it open.

“What’s the code?” Rafferty asks. He steps in and leans the umbrella against a big chair, making a mental map of the hallway, the large living room, the dimly lit dining room. In the rear wall of the dining room are a bank of windows and a pair of double doors with big panes of glass in them.

“Three-six-one-six-nine,” the maid says. “Then you hit zero twice.”

“Three-six-one-six-nine,” Ming Li repeats. “Zero-zero.”