Robert Ferrigno - Prayers for the assassin

“You risked your life for us…and there were so many of them.”

“It’s my job. I enjoy it.”

“Redbeard must trust you a great deal to have sent you.” Sarah wiped her hands on her dress. It only made things worse.

“I’m sorry we don’t have a shower on board, but you could wash up in the forward lavatory. I’ll get you a clean scrub suit you can change into. Is that all right?”

Sarah stood up. “Oh, yes, that would be wonderful. I must look disgusting.”

Darwin stood up, bowed. “You look lovely Miss Dougan.”

Sarah laughed. “You have a very interesting aesthetic.” She slipped into the lavatory, closed the door behind her. Close quarters. She peeled off her dress and stuffed it in the trash. Soaped up her hands and lathered her arms, then her face. The soap smelled like lemons. She washed herself all over again. Splashing. Happily making a mess. Rakkim was going to be all right. Redbeard had sent the plane and the doctors. Redbeard had sent Darwin…and everyone knew that Fedayeen were hard to kill. Everyone. She wet a towel with warm water and cleaned her hair. A tiny bit of bone fell out, bounced in the sink, and she almost threw up. Sobbing now as she scrubbed herself. She jumped at the light knock on the door.

“Miss Dougan? I have the scrub suit.”

Sarah opened the door a crack. Darwin stood there with his back toward her, hand extended, holding the blue scrubs. She took them, closed the door. “Thank you.” When she came out five minutes later, she felt better. As long as she didn’t breathe through her nose. “Can I use your cell? I’ve been trying to call my uncle, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“The plane has a damping mechanism. For security purposes.”

“There must be some way to speak to him. Surely you’ve contacted him.”

“I have. He told me to hold all further transmissions. Ibn Azziz has undoubtedly found out about what happened back there and will be taking steps.”

“Yes…of course. Any change in Rakkim’s condition?”

“The doctors said he was stable.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That’s an improvement.”

“They always say that.” Darwin patted her arm. “Try not to worry. Why don’t you sit back down.” He indicated the seat. “I took the liberty of pouring you some sparkling water. We can talk. It will make the trip go faster.”

Sarah sat across from him. “How soon should we be in Seattle?”

“Do you know, I’ve read your book? Twice.”

Sarah relaxed slightly. “Were you trying to impress Redbeard? I have to warn you, he’s no fan of the book.”

“I enjoyed it very much.” Darwin ran a hand through his wispy hair. “Your whole premise that the true gods of the old regime were movie stars and musicians…that converting them to Islam was a pivotal victory…well, it was quite brilliant.”

Sarah nodded politely. “The doctors said you saved Rakkim’s life.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Darwin had…quiet eyes. Light gray and translucent…familiar somehow. “You handled yourself very well at the amusement park, and on the drive to the airport. I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

“No…not at all.” Sarah looked at him and Darwin looked right back at her. So many men had trouble maintaining eye contact-they glanced away, afraid of appearing forward, or lowered their eyes, worried that they weren’t sufficiently seductive. Darwin’s gaze was neutral, cold even, but self-assured and steady. As though the world were just a passing parade. Now she remembered where she had seen eyes like his. The national zoo. Timber wolf. Canis lupus. She had spent hours watching the gray wolves when she was younger, fascinated by their predatory calm. No wonder Redbeard had sent him to protect them from Ibn Azziz. A good choice.

“What is it, Miss Dougan?”

“Please, call me Sarah. I think we’re past the formalities.”

Darwin smiled. “I appreciate that.”

“Will we be landing at the airstrip behind Redbeard’s villa or at the central hospital?”

“That decision hasn’t been made yet.”

Sarah looked at the door to the operating room. “It’s hard to wait.”

“One gets used to it. Waiting can even be pleasurable. Like anticipation.”

“I suppose.” Sarah crossed her legs, her foot scuffing his pants leg. “Sorry,” she said, brushing the material. “How did you find us? Rakkim thought we covered our tracks.”

“You should feel proud.” Darwin folded his hands in his lap. “If I hadn’t come into possession of the same information Detective Colarusso passed on to you, I wouldn’t have known where to look. Once I did, it was relatively easy to-”

“Anthony told you?”

Darwin put his hands up. “Not at all. I simply used the same source he did. A most accommodating woman in the personnel department.”

Sarah cocked her head as the plane banked. “What’s happening?”

“Just a standard course correction. Everything is quite all right.” Darwin leaned forward slightly. “I’m something of a nostalgia collector myself. CDs, movie posters, comic books. Heroes and monsters. Perhaps that’s why I was so attracted to your work.”

Sarah drifted, lulled by the hum of the engines. She didn’t like the conflation of old-regime popular culture with nostalgia, even though it was a common misperception. She closed her eyes. Still hearing gunshots. Still seeing the sad expression on Fancy’s face. Fatima Abdullah. Lying on the bare concrete as they carried Rakkim out. Darwin said she was dead, said they had to hurry, and they did…but as Sarah passed by the body, she cursed the police who had killed her. Hoped that there was someone to give her a decent burial. Fancy had said a name…Jeri Lynn. Sarah hoped someone would call Jeri Lynn. Hoped Jeri Lynn would bury Fancy with the proper respect. The proper prayers.

“Have you ever researched late-twentieth-century pornography?”

Sarah blinked herself alert. “No…I never considered it.”

“Oh, you really should. Very interesting stuff. The whole culture is there.”

“I’ve never seen anything about it in the professional literature. I’m sure it would be restricted. Is there some sort of archive?”

“No, most of it’s in private hands.”

“So, how do you…?” Sarah glanced again at the bulkhead door, a little uncomfortable with the conversation. “Of course. As you said, you’re a collector.”

“You can see a whole shift during the late nineties. Tattoos everywhere, women as well as the men. Piercings…piercings in places it’s hard to imagine one volunteering for. Even their movie stars did it. Even their gods offered themselves up.” Darwin steepled his fingertips. “Fascinating, isn’t it? Return to the primitive, that’s what their social scientists termed it. I see it more as a hunger for slavery. They were so free, so unencumbered by morality, that they craved chains. And the sexual practices themselves-”

“Were you…” Sarah’s smile was forced. “Were you following us all the way from Seattle? I’m just…I’m just trying to find out if we made any mistakes.”

“Laudable,” said Darwin. “No, your mistakes were only human. I was waiting for you in Long Beach. Last known address of Fatima Abdullah. I thought I had missed you, then one of our roaming eyes called and said he had seen you two sitting in a coffee shop in Huntington Beach. You evidently weren’t in as much of a hurry to find her as we thought.”

Sarah felt her cheeks coloring.

“Something wild in the air in Southern California, don’t you think?” Darwin flexed his fingertips. “You didn’t even close your motel room windows. I was standing down below all night. Almost close enough to touch, and I could hear everything. Such sounds. The grunting and groaning. I wonder what your uncle would think if he heard them.” Darwin’s eyes hadn’t changed in the slightest. They remained cool and gray and distant. “Something has been bothering me. Maybe you can help. That third time…where exactly was Rakkim putting it? I couldn’t tell and it’s been bothering me ever since.”