Дэвид Балдаччи - Mercy

“I see,” said Buckley. “Perhaps you can earn some money, too.”

The lady looked at her falling-apart shoes. “I was here when El brought her in.”

“El?” said Buckley.

“El Cain.”

“Is El short for something? Ellen, Eleanor?”

“Don’t know about that.”

“Exactly how do you know her?”

“She used to be here, years ago. I come here off and on. You don’t forget El. Tallest woman I’ve ever met. And tough. She don’t take shit from nobody.”

“What else do you know about her?” asked Buckley.

The woman eyed him funny. “Saw you give her money,” she said again.

Buckley produced ten twenty-dollar bills and passed them to the woman.

She pocketed the money, looking warily around as though to check who might be watching, and said, “She’s a good person. Helped me.”

“Do you know anything about her background? Where she came from? What she does for a living?”

The woman thought for a moment and then snapped her fingers. “She does that kickboxing stuff. You know? That MM-something.”

“MMA? Mixed martial arts?”

The woman pointed at him. “Yep, that’s it.”

“Where does she fight?” “There’s a place on the south side of town. Old shoe factory or something like that. Went there one time to watch two gals near kill each other. Never saw El fight, but I bet she was good. Don’t take shit off nobody, like I said. She told me she fought there.”

“She apparently is a very good fighter. When was the last time you saw her?”

“Well, when she brought in the Mex gal.”

“Anything else?”

“She’s a good person,” she said again.

“I’m sure she is. Thank you.”

Buckley made some calls and finally located the old shoe factory. There was a fight scheduled the next night. He spent the day with his brother at the hospital after he’d undergone another surgery. As he stared down at his unconscious brother, Buckley had the sensation that this might be as good as it got for Ken. And that saddened him more than he thought it would.

The next night Buckley headed to the fights. The venue had an invitation-only list that he circumvented by passing the bouncer out front a hundred dollars.

“Go right in, sir” was the bouncer’s immediate reply as he tacked on a big smile.

The place held about two hundred people, who were both fired up and drunk. The fighters were two men with shaved heads and chiseled physiques, and tats that covered more of their exposed bodies than not. Buckley did not care about the fight. He made discreet inquiries among the staff and quickly focused on the man named Sam.

After the fight was over he cornered Sam in a back hall.

“El Cain?”

“What about her?”

“I’d like to know more about her than I do right now.”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m a curious man. I understand she’s a good fighter.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, although she’s past her prime if you’re in the business and thinking about taking her on. But she’s sneaky. And do not get in range of her kicks. Man or woman, it don’t matter. She brings a load.”

“Any idea where she is now?”

“Again, what’s it to you?”

Five one-hundred-dollar bills answered that question.

“She lives in an old building they rehabbed into cheap units. It’s not that far from here. Or at least she did. Heard they just got rousted out by the new owners. So I don’t know where she’s hanging now.”

“What do you know about her past?”

“Heard she came in from out west years back. She showed up here one day. Said she could fight and wanted in on the action. Physically, she looked like she could handle herself, but just being tall and strong don’t make you a fighter. So I put her through a little test. I got her in the cage with one of my guys. He was in his forties back then, way past his prime, but he was still good and he was a dude.”

“What happened?”

Sam lit up a cigarette and grinned as he blew out the smoke. “Buddy, what happened was, she knocked my ‘tough’ guy out in about a minute. He woke up a half hour later wondering how a truck could’ve hit him inside the building. Well, after that, I told El if she really got serious about fighting she could go somewhere. Have to be boxing or some unofficial stuff like we do here ’cause UFC don’t have weight classes that heavy. But she only did it locally when she really needed the dough. She fought recently against a real stud, an up-and-comer. El snookered the lady and broke her jaw with one of the hardest kicks I’ve personally ever seen, guy or gal. She grabbed her thousand bucks and walked out of here. Haven’t seen her since.”

“She ever tell you about herself? Her family?”

“As a rule, El didn’t talk about herself. But let me give you a warning, friend. The last time she was here she pulled a gun on me because I told her if she dressed up a little and acted a teenyweeny bit feminine, me and her might have a good time. I mean, some dinner and drinks and wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am and all. I saw the look in her eyes. She would’ve blown my damn head off without a second thought.”

“Goodness, and after you had expressed yourself so eloquently to the woman.”

“Exactly.”

“Thank you for the advice. I will watch myself when I find her.”

“ If you find her.”

“No doubt that’s what I meant.”

He got the address of where Cain had last lived. He drove over there to find a fence erected around the property and guarded by security who could tell him nothing of the people who had once lived there.

“They’re all gone now,” the guard said. “And good riddance. They were all lowlifes.”

As Buckley got back into the car his phone rang. It was the hospital. He listened carefully, thanked the person, and said he would take care of all arrangements.

He didn’t start the car. Buckley stared out the windshield into the darkness as he thought about what the doctor had just told him. An undetected and now ruptured brain aneurysm. Nothing they could do. Ken was gone in under a minute. They weren’t sure if it was connected to his recent beating, but they couldn’t rule that out. In any case, they were very sorry.

Buckley started the car and put on his seat belt harness. So now he had to bury another brother.

This was no longer a matter of putting El Cain into the hospital.

It was now a matter of putting the woman into a grave.

Buckley checked into an upscale hotel and ordered a late dinner from room service. He made phone calls and sent emails and texts while he ate his meal and drank his wine and thought about the details and decisions ahead of him. Ken would be cremated. There would be no religious ceremony; such spectacle would have been wasted on both brothers.

Buckley would scatter his youngest brother’s ashes at the site of their father’s brutal attack by the government. From human being, to a corpse, to residence in a jar before being sent headlong into the winds. All in the matter of the blink of an eye, really. It gave one pause, thought Buckley. Or it should.

His room was immaculate and comfortable, having all the expected high-end accoutrements. Buckley had grown up with none of these things, for his parents, despite the money coming in from their disciples and assorted business dealings, insisted on living simply, and thought that any largesse spent on their children was out of bounds strictly on principle. Buckley had resented that as a child. But he had come to agree with his parents’ philosophy that people needed to earn what they had. However, the living simply part was not something he had adhered to.