Robert Ferrigno - Prayers for the assassin

Darwin brushed back his thinning brown hair with his fingers. Looked up as the door opened and saw Anthony Jr. staring at him from the other side of the security screen. Maximum quality. Half-inch Swedish-steel latticework. Expensive hardware, particularly on a detective’s salary. The windows were probably equally reinforced. Colarusso must spend a lot of time away from his family. Such a good papa.

“Hi.” Darwin smiled. “I haven’t seen you since your parents’ Christmas party seven or eight years ago. You’ve grown.”

Anthony Jr. didn’t react. He was a tall, muscular kid in a blue King Fahd High School sweat suit. Cropped hair. A thin beard ran along the edge of his jawline. “You going to open the door, or am I supposed to stand out here in the cold?” Anthony Jr. didn’t move. “I guess I can’t expect you to remember me.” Darwin rooted in his jacket. “I compliment you on your caution.” He flashed the badge he had taken from the handsome young police officer. “Darwin Conklin. I’m police liaison with the mayor’s office.”

Anthony Jr. barely glanced at the badge. “Good for you.”

“Is your father here? I need to speak with him.”

“He hasn’t come home yet.”

Darwin made a point of checking his watch. “May I come in and wait?”

“Who is it, Anthony?”

Darwin saw a doughy woman in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a dish towel.

Anthony Jr. kept his eyes on Darwin. “I’m taking care of it, Mom.”

Darwin pointed at the tiny silver crescent moon hanging above the door. “Have you been accepted in the Fedayeen?”

A wary nod from Anthony Jr.

“Congratulations.” No response from Anthony Jr. “Can I please come inside?” Darwin grinned. “I caught a cold from the mayor last week, and I’m just getting over it.”

Anthony Jr. slowly reached for the door lock. Stopped.

Darwin jiggled the handle. “What’s wrong?”

“You. You’re wrong.”

“Anthony, you’re not scared of me, are you?”

Anthony Jr. stared at him. Slowly nodded his head.

Darwin opened his coat. “I’m not even armed. I’m a liaison officer. We talk. We dialogue. That’s all.”

“Go dialogue with somebody else.”

Darwin shook his head. “If you’re the kind of young man the Fedayeen is reduced to accepting, I should sell my war bonds.”

“I know who you are.” Even protected by a half inch of steel, Anthony Jr. trembled.

Darwin smiled, sincere smile this time. He didn’t remember the last time anyone had detected his true nature. Not before it was too late. Anthony might have the instincts of a born Fedayeen, but it was just as likely that Rakkim had warned him that someone like Darwin might be coming around. Him and his father, the fat cop. One big happy family, all looking out for one another. Telling one another all kinds of things. Darwin’s little visit to the Colarusso homestead hadn’t been wasted.

Anthony’s mother reappeared in the kitchen doorway. “Anthony?”

“Call 911, Mom. Tell them to send a couple of cars.”

Darwin waved to her. “Hello, Marie. You look lovely, as usual.”

Anthony’s mother touched her hair. “Don’t play games, Anthony, let the man in.”

“Call them, Mom.”

“Good for you, Anthony,” said Darwin. “I can’t fool you.”

“I don’t like you saying my name.”

“May I give you some advice?” asked Darwin. “You’ve probably been working out a lot since you got accepted. Taking all kinds of growth-hormone and cobra-venom hotshots.” He smiled again. “You’d be better off training yourself to catnap. Set your alarm clock for one-hour intervals so you wake up every hour during the night. When you can wake up without the alarm clock, and wake up alert, fully alert, then set the intervals for a half hour. That’s what you’re going to need to make it through Fedayeen boot camp, because you’re never going to get more than an hour’s uninterrupted sleep that whole first year.”

“I did it, Anthony,” called his mother. “Close the door. Let the police handle it.”

“I bet she’s a fabulous cook,” said Darwin.

“I’m already sleeping on a hardwood floor,” said Anthony Jr. “I got the heat in my room turned off too. That thing with the catnaps, though…that’s a pretty smart idea.”

“I’m full of smart ideas.” Darwin looked as if he were trying to decide something. “There’s another thing…” He glanced around, the carbon-polymer knife slipping down his sleeve into his hand. “When the escape-and-evasion instructor asks for volunteers”-he lowered his voice and Anthony Jr. unconsciously leaned closer-“you should-” Darwin slammed his right hand into the screen, the blade plunging through the steel mesh. It should have driven into Anthony Jr.’s left eye, but he had pulled away at the last instant.

Anthony Jr. wiped blood off his cheek. He was breathing hard.

“Well done.” Darwin put the knife away. “You just might make it through boot camp. We’ll have to get together again sometime and discuss war stories.” He gave Anthony Jr. a jaunty salute, turned on his heel. He was barely limping now, a new spring in his step.

Sarah pulled wide the curtains, let the last of the sunset into their beach-front motel room. She was nude and slick with sweat, all curves and hollows, and he hardened again just looking at her. She bent forward, hands on the sill, her ass canted toward him. The window was open, the curtains swirling.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She looked back at him, laughed. “I’ve never been so happy.”

He watched her as sounds drifted through the window. Bicycles. Seagulls keening. Steady pounding of the waves. The whir of jet helicopters passing overhead, almost silent. Airspace in the capital was restricted, but not here. Nothing seemed off-limits here. “Come back to bed.”

“Say-”

“Please?”

The curtains boiled around her. “Look at us, Rikki, making love with the windows open. They had to hear us down below.” Her nipples were dark and hard. “Look at us, out in public, holding hands, not counting the minutes until I have to be home. Not going over my excuses to Redbeard, rehearsing the answers for all the possible questions I might be asked. Colarusso is the only one who knows we’re here. We’re free.” She walked toward him, the sunset outlining her in gold. “I don’t want to look for Fatima tonight.”

“Good.”

“I don’t want to look for her tomorrow either. I want to make love and sleep late. I want to eat breakfast in the café we saw. I want to run in the sun and drink Mexican iced coffee and listen to music. I want you to dance with me. Then I want to make love some more.”

Rakkim watched her getting closer. She was at the edge of the bed now, and he could smell the sex on her. “I’d like that too. Except for the dancing part.”

She slid across the bed, and he caressed the moistness between her legs. “Let’s stay here as long as we can,” she said, “because when we leave, when we find her, it’s going to start up again. There won’t be room for us anymore-”

“That’s not true.”

She slipped him inside her, slipped him inside so smoothly it was as if he had always been part of her. “It won’t be like this.” She gently rocked on him, and he fit himself into her motion, the heat of her radiating through him. “The clock will have started once we leave here. We’ll be looking over our shoulders again.” She tightened her grip on him, purring, squeezed him to the base, and he cried out as she rocked against him, driving him home.

Rakkim groaned, arched his back.

She shook her hair out as she rode him; dark curls flying in the twilight.