Steve Martini - The Arraignment

Tucked under one arm is the package. Suddenly I stop and look around. Every bush and tree along the path looks like every other one. Still it’s better than delivering a package of empty hopes to men with guns.

I break a branch from one of the bushes to mark the spot, and then I set the package behind an outcropping of stones a few feet off the road. Its absence and my knowledge of its location give me something to bargain with, if only to kill time in hopes of finding an opening. If they don’t see it on me and they’re smart, they won’t shoot me at least until we talk.

I step back out to the path, still carrying the little slip of paper in one hand. There’s no way to tell the distance to the spot where Pablo Ibarra’s men are waiting since the diagram conforms to no scale. Besides, having ridden through curves and around bends on the front of the bike, I have no sense of direction.

I’m about to ball up the note and toss it into the brush when my eye catches a word on the other side. The word “Capri.” Without the jarring motion of the bike I read the cryptic message written by Marta and handed to Harry, along with other messages, in an envelope.

“Joyce says Jamaile owned one piece of property. The land under the old Capri Hotel.”

I stand there for a moment, my eyes on the slip of paper, weary, unable to focus. I start to walk slowly down the path, thinking Nick owned Jamaile and Jamaile owned the Capri, the greasy spoon downtown where we had coffee that morning.

I look up and step a little closer to the bushes on one side as I walk. What does it mean? None of it makes any sense. If Nick owned a chunk of land downtown, why didn’t Dana know about it, or Margaret in the divorce? Nick was broke. What was he doing looking at empty offices in San Francisco and New York, dealing with Metz and the Ibarra brothers to broker a piece of history worth millions? Certainly he would get a fee, but…

Suddenly I stop. My heart skips. I turn and start to walk quickly in the other direction. A few steps and I start to run, looking back over my shoulder, headlong down the path.

The broken branch pointing the way to the package is just ahead, when he steps out from the green foliage on the other side of the path ten feet in front of me. Adam is holding a pistol pointed at me.

“Where are you going in such a rush?”

I stop, look at him breathing heavily, then bend and put my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

“And here I thought you were coming to save me,” he says.

“You killed them. Nick, Metz, Espinoza, Julio.”

“No. No. There you go, jumping to conclusions. Actually I didn’t have anything to do with Espinoza. I didn’t even know about him until you told me. In fact the sheer volume of things I didn’t know overwhelms me.

“And as for Nick and Metz, I didn’t pull the trigger if it makes you feel any better. Though you could say I did set matters in motion. Some people out of Tijuana actually. The world has become an awful place. For enough money they don’t even want to know who you are. I have to say they did a better job than the two idiots in the airplane. I didn’t like that whole idea, but they insisted. By the way, if you don’t mind my asking, how’s Harry?”

“He’s going to be fine.”

“I see. That could be a problem. You see, I couldn’t be sure how much he knew, so I thought it would be best if he were invited to join us.

“You actually came here thinking you were going to meet the two brothers. I must say I did a bang-up job in a short period of time. You like the outfit?” His clothes are covered in dirt, one knee is torn out of his pants, and there’s a bruise on the side of his face.

“All part of the preparations,” he says. “You can imagine my panic when Harry dropped that bit about Nick’s handheld computer over dinner. We probably would all be getting on the plane about now, flying back to San Diego if I hadn’t heard that.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you turn around get down on your knees? Now,” he says.

I do it.

“That’s it. Now put your hands out in front of you on the ground and lie down. Spread your arms and your legs and don’t move. That’s good.”

Adam steps forward, presses the muzzle of the pistol into the small of my back, and starts patting me down.

“Hell, I couldn’t be sure what was in Nick’s little computer. And you kept keeping secrets from me.”

He feels along my side, the small of my back, then the other side. “God knows what other little morsels you know that I don’t. It wouldn’t do to get us all home and have the police suddenly find some piece left behind by Nick that sends their magnetic dial pointing in my direction.”

He feels up and down both legs and then steps back. “You can get up now.”

I get to my feet.

“Tell me, is that the thing over there? This Mejicano Rosen. I saw you put the package behind the rocks and break the branch. I was going to follow you, and then I heard you coming back.”

“Why don’t you look?”

“I don’t think so. You’re a little too anxious. What is it, tear gas? Something to stun whoever opens it? Don’t tell me Pablo Ibarra actually had the stuff?”

“Actually no.”

“I’m dying to know. What is it? I don’t mean the package. I mean this Rosen thing?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t have the foggiest.”

“Then why did you write the note telling me to bring it?”

“I had to have some reason to get you here. I mean it would have looked a little funny if I’d sent a note from the brothers just telling you to come here and pick up Mr. Tolt. But I have to say curiosity is killing me. Why don’t we walk while we talk,” he says. “It’s not far. Besides it puts a little more distance between us and anybody you might have brought along. You did bring someone along?”

I don’t answer him. We start down the path, Adam behind me with the pistol six or seven feet, judging by the sound of his voice.

“So this Rosen thing. Something Nick wanted?”

“It looks that way.”

“What?”

“An ancient text of the Mayan language.”

He laughs. “You have to be kidding. Nick? What was he going to do with it, sell it?”

“Actually he was going to trade it.”

“For what?”

“For a height variance on a piece of real estate he owned.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Yeah and I’m afraid you don’t have that much time.”

We walk for several minutes until we come to a clearing in the jungle dominated by a huge mound of stone, a pyramid eroded on the edges by time and weather. Facing us is a steep set of stairs rising all the way to the top, capped by what appears to be a small stone structure.

“I hope you brought your climbing shoes. Go on.”

We cross the clearing and I start up the steps. They are steep and there is nothing small about them. Most have a rise of two feet or more and a narrow tread, with nothing to hang onto except the steps above.

Leaning forward, we climb hand over hand. I have my hands on the stairs two or three above where my feet are. Adam manages to keep his gun hand free, with the muzzle pointed at me. For someone in his sixties, he has amazing dexterity.

The humidity off the jungle floor is beginning to heat up as the sun rises. It is light now, and as we climb I can see the top of the jungle canopy laid out like a green blanket all around us with mauve-colored peaks jutting through it in several places, the remnants of Mayan architecture stripped of their jungle cover.

“So what’s it going to be, a shot to the back of the head like Julio, or will it be an accident this time?”

“I thought we could decide that when we get to the top.”