Elmore Leonard - Djibouti

"The boys have their own style of doin things," Xavier said. They stood on the sidewalk along rue de Marseille, Dara getting a cigarette now from her bag and lighting it.

She said, "I noticed Djibouti Airlines down the street when we drove past."

"It's local flights," Xavier said. "Won't get us home if that's what you have in mind."

She said, "I don't know, maybe. We could give Billy a call, find out what he's up to."

"We done here, but you don't want to leave, do you?" He said, "Think about it while I go get the car." SHE SAW THE BLACK guy in the T-shirt coming along Marseille, the shirt hanging out, too large for him, the guy and his shirt shades of brown. A black flight bag hung from his shoulder.

Dara turned on her spy camera clipped to her shirt pocket and shot him coming straight on with her head turned, not looking at him, the guy in no hurry. Closer now he seemed to hesitate, break his step as he looked at her and said, "You makin it today?" She turned to him.

Passing her his hand went to his sunglasses to slide them down and up, like tipping a hat, and walked past.

Now Dara was shooting him from the rear.

The guy walking toward the Djibouti Airlines office, that direction, about twenty meters past her when she called out:

"James…?"

He stopped. Two, three…six beats before he turned around. Now he came back, almost to her, Dara saying, "I mean Jama. I don't know why I said James, you never told me your name. You know what? I think I started to say Jama and it came out James because I know you're American, you tell everybody."

"Yeah, but you recognize me."

"I've photographed you, I know what you look like," Dara said. "You're a much younger Jama-I almost said James again-without the beard."

"I don't recognize myself. I been al Qaeda gunhand too long."

"I doubt anyone else would recognize you. You have to remember, I shoot faces." She said, "What's the story that goes with Brown University?"

"That was a while ago."

"What hall were you in? I bet Harambee, with the black radicals. I had a friend went to Brown. He said the school motto was 'In God We Trust' because it's printed on money."

"Oh, you looking at my shirt. It's a friend of mine's."

"A classmate?" Dara said. "I can't believe you're still around, being on the dodge. I've got quite a few shots of you I'd like to use, with your permission. List your name among the credits. I would say you have the confidence of a movie star, walking around with police after you."

"You were filming me, weren't you, with that bitty thing? I recognize it, from you shooting us on the ship."

Dara said, "I would love to hear how you killed five people at the same time, one of them your leader." She kept talking, giving Xavier time to arrive on the scene. "I'd like to hear about that, too, why you felt you had to shoot him. I could film you telling about it, telling anything you want, your adventures with bin Laden…You'd get a credit up front."

"You saying this to me," Jama said, "you don't think you're taking a risk?"

Dara was shaking her head saying no-Jama heard that much before raising his eyes to Xavier appearing behind her, Xavier coming to stand a foot above her head.

He said, "Jama, how you doin? You stayin out of jail?"

Dara said, "It doesn't look like he's giving himself up."

Xavier said, "No, he's got a new thing. Gone college boy on us."

Jama, standing as erect as he could make himself, said, "You want to let it be or take some kind of action?"

Xavier said, "There wasn't a lady present I'd have your neck broke by now. Have it done before you pull the piece you done those people with. Gun you stuck in your jeans but didn't feel right, so you put it in your bag." Xavier said, "On second thought, I don't need to shoot you. We gonna give you to the police."

"You want, we can let it be," Jama said. "Couple of brothers run into each other-why not? And I'm on my way. Tell your grandkids you met me one time."

"Let you go?" Xavier said. "You too scary. First thing, I want you to slip the bag from your shoulder and hand it to me." Xavier took a step to stand in Jama's face. "Try to run, I'll bust your head on the pavement. Mess up your nice haircut." They stared in each other's faces till Xavier pulled the bag from Jama's shoulder and handed it to Dara.

She zipped it open and brought out the Walther first, held it as she looked in the bag. "T-shirts," Dara said, "and girls' panties," bringing out a pair and going into the bag again.

Xavier didn't look at the panties, he was watching Jama, Jama going for the gun, had hold of it as Xavier stepped in to hit him with his big left hand balled up, threw it hard against Jama's clean-shaved face to turn him around stumbling, almost going down. Now he was running away from them, glancing around once, but not running as fast, Xavier judged, as he could.

Xavier said, "Gimme it," took the Walther from Dara, aimed at Jama sprinting up the rue de Marseille, fired three rounds at him, the gunshots loud in the street of buildings, and the Walther clicked empty.

A half block away Jama the college boy stopped and yelled something at them Xavier couldn't make out. He started to run off again, stopped and yelled something else and took off past the Djibouti Airlines office.

"Isn't flyin anyplace today," Xavier said, "is he? I missed some of what he was tellin us."

"He pointed at us and said, 'You two are next.' Like he has an agenda," Dara said, "for killing people. Why do bad guys take themselves so seriously?"

"'Cause they dumb."

"Jama's not dumb. Sometimes he sounds street, but I think he's putting it on."

"What else he say?"

"Before, when he walked past me, I said, 'James…?' I don't know why. Because he's American? I don't know. He hesitated then and we started talking, but pretty soon it got edgy and you showed up."

"James," Xavier said. "We know that much. He made Jama out of James when he went Arab. Have to figure what name Raisuli came from." He stepped out to the street where Dara was looking up at Harry and Idris in separate third-floor windows, shutters wide open.

Harry's voice came to them. "Did you get him?"

"I ran out of ammo," Xavier said. "I should've had one of your machine guns."

"Do you want to come up for a drink?"

"I think we gonna wait for the police," Xavier said. "Somebody must've called them."

"I did," Harry said. "The chief happens to be a friend of mine. They should be here shortly. They'll want to ask you about Jama," Harry said, "since you were shooting at him. That was Jama, wasn't it?"

Xavier looked at Dara.

"How'd he know that?" "HIS AMERICAN NEGRO ACCENT," Harry said.

They were in the Twins' apartment again.

"I could hear it clearly. That 'Yessuh boss' way they have. But he didn't call you boss, did he? I said to Idris-we went to the window-'Who is that guy?' Idris didn't hesitate, he said, 'Jama?' We both knew he would try to disguise himself. It's curious, when he speaks Arabic you don't hear the American Negro sound."

The police arrived. The police chief in a suit and tie, a big man, heavy, said, "Yes, I will have one of your cocktails." His aide in uniform stayed with him to listen to Miss Dara Barr's story and take notes. The police chief said, "So this is the one murdered five people a few days ago. Now has us believe he's the student of a university."

"There's a reward if he's taken alive," Harry said, "and I deliver him to the American embassy."

"I catch him," the police chief said, "I can deliver this one."

Harry said, "Yes, but I've already spoken to them about it. He's on their list."

"If I don't have to shoot him," the police chief said. "This is a desperate man we looking for."

Idris mixed cocktails, raising his eyes to Dara, and seemed to shake his head. Dara would have one drink, that's all, as Harry explained that Jama was not wanted dead or alive. "They made it clear he has to be taken alive if we expect to collect a reward, possibly in the neighborhood of a million dollars."