Elmore Leonard - Djibouti

The onetime SEAL and professional soldier for hire looked like any other forty-year-old in pretty good shape; nothing that told he had special tricks for fighting a war. Getting out of the car Xavier watched Dara and Buck Bethards shake hands and sit down at a table on the sidewalk. It looked like he was drinking coffee. He was, black as it comes. Xavier met him and said, "You're doing this job for Billy, huh?" so they'd get right to it. It wasn't going to take Xavier long at the doctor's.

He shook hands with the spy again, got back in the car and turned into a street east of the Central Market, turned a few corners finding his way and pulled up in front of Dr. Chin's medical practice and drugstore.

The sign in Chinese characters didn't mean a thing to Xavier, but there was Dr. Chin himself in the doorway, the little doctor of traditional medicine reaching up now to put his arms partway around Xavier saying, "What's new?" With just a bit of an accent. "I hear you in the movie business." Dr. Chin smiling in his wispy white beard and eyes that were slits. They chatted a few minutes until Xavier said, "You know what I want."

"Horny Goat Weed, of course. How you doing with it?"

"I ran out a while ago."

"You had I believe three hundred capsules of my special blend?"

"That's right, five bottles."

"How long they last?"

"I been out of 'em most of a year."

"But you stay active until a year?"

"If 'active' means a lot of action, you have to remember I'm seventy-two."

"I'm eighty-four," Dr. Chin said. "So…? What do numbers mean? I remain as active as I wish to be. Get ten bottles for a year, I make you a deal, hundred fifty dollar."

Xavier said, "I never tried the Rowdy Lamb Herb."

"It's Horny Goat Weed with a different name."

"How about Fairy Wings?"

"Same thing. It's all epimedium, the same plant, maybe a different variety. It's the name gives you ideas. Use for two thousand years, no complaints."

"What about rhino horn?"

"Stop it. You know it's a myth."

"But maybe it works," Xavier said, "you set your mind on it givin you a donkey can be rode."

"Maybe sometime only. They killing all the rhinos for the horns, shave it to a powder you take. It will cost you a fortune, as much as fifteen thousand for a small one, but gives no life to your waning desire."

"I'll tell you what," Xavier said. "Let me have ten bottles of your Horny Goat Weed."

"Now you talking," Dr. Chin said. "Six hundred capsules. Write to me you need more." DARA WAS TELLING BUCK, "I remember how confident he was. Jama said he'd take care of Idris and Harry once he walked out. We believed his tone of voice, but not what he was saying. If that makes sense. Idris said, 'Of course he thinks of getting away. For Jama, what else is there of importance?'" Dara giving her thoughts on Jama Raisuli. She said, "Did you know Raisuli was Sean Connery's name in The Wind and the Lion?"

Buck said, "You see that as significant?"

"It means he has a sense of humor. Don't you think it's funny?"

"Yeah, but does Jama think it is?"

"You're right. He's American, but according to Idris speaks street Arabic."

"And you think his first name is James."

"I'm pretty sure, from his reaction when I said it."

"The name Jama," Buck said, "looks like James. What does Raisuli look like? You come up with an Italian name, don't you. Like James Ravioli."

Dara said, "You know what I thought it might be? James Russell."

Buck looked up from the photos of Jama on the table. He said, "James Russell, that's good. Russell, Raisuli. Is that how he's thinking, wanting the same sound?" He picked up a photo. "Let me run his name, see how many James Russells are in the system. Say in the past ten years."

"In ten years," Dara said, "there could be a thousand James Russells."

"Not that many with his profile. What surprises me," Buck said, "he doesn't seem to have told anybody his real name. I know a few al Qaedas who can be bought, but that doesn't mean they'd know his name. Yet this boy likes to talk and brag on himself. I would think if he told you he told anybody."

"Why?"

"Wasn't he attracted to you?"

"You mean, did he try anything?"

"Come on, the guy go for you or not?"

"I think he did," Dara said, "but ran out of time."

"Tried to impress you, didn't he? Worth a million dollars to the United States government?"

"Idris and Harry," Dara said, "were going for twenty-five million."

"They might get it for bin Laden, but not some kid learned Arabic in prison."

"How do you know that?"

"It's where black kids become Muslims."

He looked out toward Marshal Foch in the middle of the plaza.

"Who do you know," Buck said, "drives a silver BMW drophead, has a black top?"

Now Dara was looking for a BMW in the light traffic, a few cars coming around to slip off into connecting streets.

"Directly across from us," Buck said. "It crept past once. Now it's coming around again. Tell me if you know the car."

There it was, silver shining hot in the sun. She said, "I've never seen it before."

She watched it drive past them, the windows dark, she couldn't see the driver. She watched it make a wide turn toward Marshal Foch, taking its time. She glanced at Buck drawing a nickel-plated Mag revolver from under his jacket.

Buck said, "I tell you to hit the deck, hit it."

The BMW got almost to Marshal Foch before it began to come around in a slow right turn, back this way but closer to the curb, approaching the Cafe Verdun and the sidewalk tables and she heard Buck yell at her and saw him pull the table over on its side, Dara going down behind it seconds before gunfire came from the car. She didn't see Buck. She looked past the table and saw Jama in the car, the window down, Jama holding his Walther and firing point-blank at the table, the rounds splintering wood and she went down to press herself against the pavement, thinking, Where's Buck? Thinking, Jesus Christ, please shoot him. And it stopped. The ringing in her ears faded. She looked over the table and saw Jama still in the car window, still pointing his gun at her. She could say she didn't know what his name was, he'd never told her. But thought, Take a chance, and said, "I bet your name's James Russell, isn't it?"

"Russell," Jama said. "The idea was a tease, see if law people could figure it out. You know how many knew it? Two. No, three down, four to go."

Past him she saw the white Toyota enter the plaza. Dara gave the white Toyota time to get over here, saying to Jama, "Who cares what your name is. You'll either be shot down or go to prison-" She stopped, was going to say "for life" but never got to say any of it. Jama was aiming at her and Xavier was ramming the white Toyota straight into the right side of the BMW, banging in the door and some of the fender.

Xavier said after, "Jama didn't know what hit him. Fired three out his right side window, nothin to shoot at, and ran. Fired three times through the table. That leaves him two shots in the gun."

"One," Buck said.

He was standing a few yards from them brushing at his knees.

"He hit me with his first shot." Buck opened his coat to show his white shirt bloody beneath his arm. "He got me right here in my love handle, through and through."

Dara said, "We'll take you to a hospital."

"I can manage," Buck said. "I know where I can have it fixed up."

Dara said, "Did you hear him say his name?"

"I did, but you're the one got him to tell it. I'd say it's your score."

Dara said, "I wouldn't feel right about it."

"It's worth five grand easy," Buck said. "More, you hunt down where he did time and get a positive ID."

Dara said, "Oh…?" She said, "But it would look like I'm doing it for the money."

Buck said, "Yeah…?"