George Chesbro: Two Songs This Archangel Sings

What arose from this chaos was neatly arranged on one wall running the length of the loft, a sight that reminded me of nothing so much as tranquil clouds of mist floating out of, and over, the mouth of a live volcano. Like many artists in the eighties, Veil Kendry worked on a large scale; however, only a handful of people appreciated just how large a scale that was. I had never read nor heard of any other painter who worked the way Veil did, and only a privileged few who had been invited up to his loft had ever seen a "mother work," the overall conception of one of Veil's ideas, before the individual canvases that comprised it, sometimes as many as fifty, were removed at random from the wall, like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, and sold individually, often over an extended period of time, by Viktor Raskolnikov, Veil's dealer.

The work-in-progress, an eerie seascape, was almost finished. Made up of thirty-six separate canvases, arranged nine across and four down, I found it hauntingly beautiful but also frightening, with suggestions of strange, toothy shapes lurking just beneath the surface of a too-calm sea. Thunderheads gathered on the horizon.

The art world considered Veil an abstract painter, and it was not surprising; while each canvas, each piece of the puzzle, was beautiful and seemed complete in itself, it gave no clue to the overall nature of the larger work. I found Veil's method fascinating.

Sliding the door closed behind me, I walked across the loft, set my gym bag down on the floor, and sat down on the mat to wait. My sense of unease, the conviction that something was wrong, was steadily increasing. It was, of course, possible that my friend had stepped out for a few minutes to get a quart of milk or something; the problem was that the nearest store open at this hour was six blocks away. I'd passed that store on my way, had not seen Veil in it, and had not passed him on my way. For six years, except when Veil or I was out of town, we had always met at seven thirty on Wednesday evening to work out together. I'd spoken to him on the phone the day before, and he had not indicated there had been any change in his plans. In any case, he would not have gone away and left his loft open with all the lights on.

Those burning lights were another problem. The complex system of mercury vapor and regular lighting in the loft was controlled by six different rheostats, and was varied depending upon what area of the loft Veil was working in at any particular time; I had never known him to have all the lights on at one time, since it would be inefficient and prohibitively expensive.

My watch read eight o'clock. Increasingly nervous, I rose from the mat, went to the central control box on the opposite wall, and shut off all the mercury vapor lamps. I forced myself to wait another half hour, then went to the telephone and the city directory hanging on a nail beside it. It took me fifteen minutes to call all the hospital emergency rooms in New York's five boroughs; Veil was not in any of them. Next I called Garth's apartment, but got no answer. Finally I called his precinct station house. I'd expected to get one of his colleagues and was surprised when Garth answered the phone himself.

"Hey, brother."

"Hi, Mongo. What's up?" He sounded tired and out of sorts, as he had for some time. Things didn't seem to be right with Garth, either, and I was beginning to worry about him.

"How are you feeling, Garth?"

"About half."

"How come you're working? I thought you were off for a couple of days."

"Big political doings, which means lots of forced overtime."

"What big political doings?"

"Where have you been for the past two days? Don't you read or listen to the news?"

"Uh-uh-at least not for the past week. With exam papers to grade and this lecture tomorrow to prepare for, I haven't had time to keep up with the outside world. What's cooking?"

"Shannon held a surprise press conference yesterday to announce that he's introducing the choices for his cabinet at a dinner at the Waldorf tonight. Coming to New York to do it, he says, is his way of showing his concern for the cities." Garth paused, laughed harshly. "Some concern. I wonder if the idiot realizes that his showing up here costs the city millions for police overtime and extra security precautions, not to mention traffic jams that take hours to unsnarl. I got called in to work the switchboard."

"I like Shannon," I said. "He's tough and realistic, and I think his head and heart are in the right place. He's not your average liberal, and I'll be interested in seeing what he does as president. I think he'll be the best we've had since Roosevelt, and I think he has the potential to be great."

"All politicians are worthless pricks," Garth said with unexpected vehemence and bitterness that surprised me and made me uncomfortable. "They're worse than useless, and you know it. They're eventually going to kill us all, and it doesn't make any difference whether it's the president of the United States or that new KGB creep in the Kremlin who starts the ball rolling for the last time. If Kevin Shannon, or any other politician, gives you a happy heart, it means you have a short memory."

"I don't have a short memory, Garth," I said quietly. "No matter what, you have to keep going."

"As if Valhalla had never happened? As if we didn't know what we know?"

"Yes. You have to have hope. Kevin Shannon gives me hope."

Another harsh laugh. "You'd have a different opinion of the man if you were trapped in a car anywhere in midtown Manhattan right now. Traffic's a nightmare."

"I didn't notice; I was on the subway. Who's in his cabinet?"

"Turn on the television at nine tonight and you'll find out the same time as everybody else in the nation. You know how Shannon likes his little dramas and surprises; he's worse than Johnson." Garth grunted, and then his voice became more mellow. "So much for my problems. What's your problem, Mongo?"

"I need a favor."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Garth said dryly.

"I'm at Veil Kendry's place." I paused to allow Garth his obligatory, hostile grunt that came whenever I mentioned Veil, then continued: "I was supposed to meet him here at seven thirty for a karate workout; we do it every Wednesday night. He's not here."

Garth laughed without humor. "So? What do you want to do, file a complaint? He probably forgot."

"No. There's something wrong, Garth. When I got here, I found the loft open and all the lights on."

"Maybe he stepped out for a minute to get something."

"It's almost nine. I've been here an hour and a half, and I don't know how long he was gone before that. Besides, there's nothing around here to step out to."

"Kendry's a very spooky man, Mongo. What can I tell you?"

"You can tell me if his name's on any of the arrest sheets. I've checked with the hospital emergency rooms, but he's not in any of those. I thought maybe he got into some law trouble."

"It wouldn't be the first time, and it wouldn't surprise me."

"It also wouldn't be the first time you guys rousted him."

" 'Roust' is a pretty strong word, Mongo. Your buddy has a nasty habit of taking the law into his own hands."

"Only when the cop's hands are busy elsewhere, which is most of the time in this neighborhood. Just check it for me, will you, Garth? I know you're busy. I'll wait here, and you get back to me whenever you can."

"It's all right," Garth said grudgingly. "I've got a computer terminal here, and it won't take me that long. Hang on." Garth put me on hold, came back on the line a couple of minutes later. "Nothing, Mongo. Wherever Kendry is, it's not with cops."

"What about the other boroughs?"

"I checked the other boroughs."

"Thanks, brother."

"Yeah. Now go home and polish your lecture. I wouldn't want you to embarrass me tomorrow."