Robert Ferrigno - Prayers for the assassin

“You’re my lucky charm.” Darwin put an arm around Rakkim. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

Rakkim pushed him away. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I just thought after all the time we spent playing hide-and-seek we should have some fun.” Darwin shook the dice. The people around the table leaned forward, mouthing prayers. Two Chinese matrons bedecked in jewels screeched encouragement. “I’m disappointed you didn’t bring the little woman. She and I had quite a time while you were being cut on. She practically talked my ear off.”

“She said you were the one doing most of the talking. I think she was bored.”

Darwin kept rattling the dice. “You like to shoot craps?”

“Never played.”

“Best game in the world. Pure action. You walk past a twenty-one table, it’s all this polite banter with the dealer. People sit when they play twenty-one. They plot and practice their computer simulations for that half-percent advantage. Craps is raw aggression, hand-to-hand combat. People screaming, bumping each other, pleading with the dice. None of it does any good. No way to predict the dice. No system. No magic formula. It’s all luck, and no way to know when it’s going to end. And it does end. Once you work out the math, the longer you play twenty-one, the better your odds. Craps is the opposite-the longer you play, the more certain you are to lose. That’s part of the appeal. When you hold the dice, you’re the center of the world. All you can do is ride that hot streak. Ride it until you drop. And you always drop hard. No such thing as a soft landing in craps.”

Rakkim yawned.

“Sir?” The stickman tapped the green felt.

Darwin threw the dice hard, bounced them off the far rail. Eleven. “Pay the table,” he told the stickman as the crowd applauded. He had $16,000 on the line now.

Two expensive redheads at the far end of the table waved.

Darwin waved back. He was average height and weight, easily overlooked except for the energy that radiated from him. Energy that he would mask when necessary, to become the common man again, harmless as a pancake. Now he was a panther, loose and easy, utterly alert. A man who would hate to be surprised. Rakkim thought of Darwin’s car rolling off the road that night in the badlands, the rage he must have felt. Seventeen werewolves slashed to pieces in the rain, and it wouldn’t have been nearly enough. There was never enough for a man like Darwin. He must have stood by the side of the road afterward, the rain sluicing him clean…he would have known Rakkim was watching.

“What are you smiling at?” asked Darwin.

“You.”

Darwin’s mouth twitched, but he kept the appearance of good humor. He held out the dice to Rakkim. “Blow on them.”

“Die.”

Darwin rolled the dice. Snake eyes.

The crowd groaned as the stickman wiped everyone’s bets clean.

“You broke my heart, Rikki,” said Darwin.

“Don’t call me that.”

Darwin pocketed the rest of his chips, hugged Rakkim again. “Let’s get a drink.”

“They’re still your dice, sir!” called the stickman.

Darwin walked away from the table, not looking to see if Rakkim was following. He sat at a table in the lounge, watched Rakkim approach. “You’ve got that slight limp thing down sweet,” he said as Rakkim sat across from him. “That faint wince on the right step, as if you’re trying to hide the pain. Nice touch. The old man probably buys it. I know better. You’re not recovered, but you’re close enough.” Darwin smiled at the waitress, a petite thing in a short, frilly dress, her belly bare, a golden ring in her navel. “Double bourbon. The best small label you’ve got. Same for my friend here.”

Rakkim started to reject the offer, but stopped. “You have Mayberry Hollow? The twelve-year-old?”

The waitress raised an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”

Darwin watched her wiggle off. “You impressed her.” He sat loosely in the booth, one foot up on the leather seat. The wall at his back. He could see the whole room from here. “I’ve been waiting for you to thank me for saving your life.”

“Why?” Rakkim eased closer. “You were just following orders. That’s what you do, isn’t it?” He noted the faint tinge to Darwin’s earlobes and knew he had hit a tender spot. “Maybe I should thank the Old One. He’s the one holding the leash.”

“There were plenty of times these last couple weeks I wanted to carve on you a bit. I’d be the first to admit that.” Darwin had light gray eyes, widely spaced, and slightly upturned at the ends. Wolf eyes. “I’ve grown fond of you. A lovely, young killer, that’s what you are. Reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago. That nonsense with the werewolves…nasty, nasty. Yeah, even if the old man hadn’t asked me to bring you here, I’d have saved you back at Disneyland. I can change the rules when I want to.” Darwin showed his teeth. “I can change them back again too. Anytime I want.”

“What a sweet man. Can I buy you an ice-cream cone?”

“Haven’t you wondered how SWAT knew where you were?”

Rakkim watched him. “I figured you must have called them in so you could play hero.”

Darwin shook his head. “It was your old Fedayeen buddy Pernell. He heard about the million-dollar bounty the Black Robes were offering and grabbed it.” He smiled. “Million for Sarah. You’re not worth a thing to Ibn Azziz.”

Rakkim shrugged. Kept his breathing level. Darwin was telling the truth.

The waitress reappeared, set their drinks in front of them and left.

Darwin picked up his glass, examined the color. Sipped. Smacked his lips. “You know your bourbon. I guess you picked that up in the Bible Belt. Never been there myself, but I hear parts of it are pretty enough.” He savored another sip. “I already dealt with Pernell. That’s what you should really thank me for. That was a pure favor to you.”

Rakkim cupped his glass. “I didn’t need you to take care of Pernell.”

“What are friends for?”

Rakkim let the bourbon slide down his throat in a warm rush. “Must have been a real challenge, killing a cripple.”

“No such thing as a crippled Fedayeen.” Darwin watched Rakkim over the rim of the glass.

“Pernell must have gotten word that you got away. Probably heard about all the dead men left behind too. He was holed up in a local police station. Surrounded by badges. So there’s the challenge you were wondering about.” Darwin stuck a forefinger in the last of the drink, sucked it. “I told him you sent your regards before I killed him. Knew you’d want it that way.” He leaned forward, pointed to the wall screen behind the bar. “Look what happened to your favorite mullah.”

Mullah Ibn Azziz was being interviewed by a reporter from the state news agency. Ibn Azziz’s face was heavily bandaged, one eye completely covered as he railed about terrorists and how only the hand of Allah had saved him from the Zionist devils.

“Kind of an improvement,” said Darwin.

Rakkim spotted Lucas walking past the row of slot machines, silently cursed his bad luck. There must be a tobacco exporters convention in the city, “Did you do that to Ibn Azziz?” he asked Darwin.

“Don’t insult me.” Darwin banged his glass on the table for a refill. “If I had gotten the call, he wouldn’t be showing off his wounds.” He leaned forward, the skin stretched taut across his face as though what was inside could barely be contained. “I’d take him down at his mosque. I’d take him down in the middle of Friday prayers, right in front of the faithful. I’d shove a pork chop in his mouth and scamper off, and that would be that. I’ve told the old man, all he has to do is say the word-”