Christopher Buckley - Wet Work

"He's not in, then?"

"No, I'm sorry, he isn't."

"Are you, like, expecting him?"

"No, he's on his boat."

"His boat. Bless him, his boat. I remember him talking about his boat when he came to pick up his honorary degree here. So is he on the Riviera?"

"He's on the Amazon River, in Peru. Hello?"

"The Amazon. Well, God… bless him, the Amazon."

"He will be checking in. I'll tell him about the novena. I'm sure he'll be very pleased."

"Frank, I never thought it was dope. I never thought it was dope."

"Uh-huh. That's why you had me roll up my sleeves. Because you didn't think it was dope."

"Someone said they saw bruises! What am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to extend a little benefit of the doubt. After seventeen years, I would expect just a little benefit of doubt."

"Frank, why didn't you say something?"

"It's no big deal."

"You go hiding out in some fucking VA hospital so we won't find out you're sick from Kincaid's bullet. Giving yourself intravenous glucose treatments because you can't eat anything. No big deal?"

"A little stomach upset-"

The SAC read from the report on his desk. "'Evidence of a radio-opaque object, probably a bullet, lodged in the right paraspinal muscles at the level of the tenth thoracic vertebra.'" Stomach upset!

"'Radio-opaque object, probably a bullet.' Shows you what they don't know. I told them before they took the pictures. I said, 'I got 125 grains of semi-jacketed hollow-point still in me, so don't worry when that shows up on the X ray.' I told them all about it, how they decided to leave it in 'cause it was a little close to the spine. And look how they put it in the report. Like they just found King Tut. 'Probably a bullet.' What else could it be? Someone's key chain I accidentally swallowed with my eggplant parmigiana?"

"Frank, we all knew about the bullet. But-look what it says-'evidence of recent scarring in peritoneal cavity due to leakage of pancreatic and gastric juices.' You're leaking, Frank."

"You know what that means? Gas. That's all that means."

"'Multiple adhesions involving the small bowel with recurrent small bowel obstruction.'"

"Adhesions-"

"'Prognosis unfavorable.'"

"These people couldn't find an adhesion in, in a box of Band-Aids, I'm telling you. You remember they ran Sheppard out on a heart murmur three years ago? Sheppard ran thirty-eighth in the New York City marathon last year."

"I'm sorry, Frank."

"What are you saying, Jim?"

"I can't overrule the doctors, Frank. You've had a brilliant career. I spoke to the Administrator this morning and he told me he's going to be calling you later. I know some guys would kill for a Disability. You're forty-six years old, Frank. You got your whole life in front of you."

"Oh, terrific."

"I wish you wouldn't blame me for this, Frank. If it was me…"

"I broke the Raid Jacket case, Jim."

"The Raid Jacket case? The Raid Jacket case is dead. You didn't get a Concurrence from the AUSA."

"I broke the Raid Jacket case, Jim."

"You did?"

"We're talking conspiracy to impersonate federal officers, conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to kidnap. We're talking conspiracy to violate the Neutrality Act. We're talking eight murders, probably more, and an ongoing violation of the Neutrality Act with conspiracy to murder. We're talking about a leading U.S. citizen with close ties to the U.S. government."

"Jesus. Who?"

"Would have made a beautiful case."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm out. You just said."

"Make sense, Frank."

"You got your whole life in front of you, Jim. I'm sure another case just like this will come up and jump you up to Deputy Administrator. Take care of yourself."

"Two months and even Eden starts to look like a prison, Virgilio. I'm restless too. But we can't have this."

"With respect, Niño, putting his arm in the piranha tank, it doesn't make anyone happier."

"Fifteen seconds. A couple of bites. In Saudi Arabia, Virgilio, they would have cut the arm off."

"I still don't think that makes them any happier."

"He stabbed Paco in the arm. It was a just punishment. Solomonic, in fact. Fifteen seconds, a few nibbles-"

"Nibbles?"

"Bites, then. The point remains. I'm not going to apologize for maintaining order. That's three incidents this week. Something had to be done or else we'll all start reverting here."

"Reverting?"

"To what's out there, Virgilio. To what we listen to every night in the trees. Our great-great-great-grandfathers."

"Niño, we need to get some women in here. Or the men are going to start fucking MS."

"No. We can't afford that now. It's a war, Virgilio. Just because they haven't made their move yet, it's still a war."

"Someone saw Ramon Lados with a cherimoya, in the drying shed."

"There's no rule about not eating in the sheds."

"He wasn't eating it, Niño, he was screwing it. Two days before that someone saw Lobi out behind the lab, with a mango."

Jesus. He'd ordered a mango for breakfast that morning. "All right. If you think it's so important, all right. Tell Eladio you want some pakis for tonight."

"I… why don't we just get some from Madariaga, in Tingo, like we usually do."

"Because Eladio is closer, and more secure than Tingo."

Virgilio had that pained, Gromyko look again.

"What is it, Virgilio?"

"The men say they want girls from Tingo."

"Why?" I'm not going to make it easy for you, Virgilio. There, he's averting his eyes. So the men don't want Indian girls. Don't want chunchas , eh? Don't want clean, tight, sweet-smelling Jivaro girls who know how to make a man's cock dance like a python? No, the men want diseased mestiza whores from Tingo with bloody underpants, three-day-old makeup and sour mouths from cheap pisco. Say it."

"It's…"

Oh, Christ, go on, put him out of his misery. Who wants a good liar for a number two?

"Okay, Virgilio."

" Thank you, Niño."

"But two girls only. Fly them in yourself, personally, and out personally. Take Zamora with you and don't tell that bucket of pus Madariaga that you're coming or it'll be all over Tingo."

"Sure. You know, I could fit four in the Cessna."

"Virgilio-"

"So the men don't have to share so much. For morale, Niño."

"Four, then."

He watched Virgilio bound off the veranda like a schoolboy on his way to the barracks to give the men the good news that they'd all have the clap by this time tomorrow. He followed him with his eyes until he disappeared into the barracks. He realized he was grinding his back teeth.

So you're going to take it personally? Of course not. Then why are you doing that with your teeth? I'm not. Be honest: you're pissed off. Sure, why shouldn't I be? It's insulting. They should… What? Shouldn't be racist? The whole country's racist. It's the most racist country in the world, Peru. That's what I'm trying to change. If a criollo like myself can take as his lover a Jivaro girl, others will follow. I'm trying to set an example. An example? Is that what it is? It wouldn't have anything to do with the quality of the fucking? All right, the sex is fantastic. Forget it, Tony. It can't happen here. Remember what Max Hernandez wrote: "One-quarter of Peruvians are whites who are unhappy that Pizarro didn't kill all the Indians. One-quarter are whites who feel guilty about what Pizarro did to the Indians. One-quarter are Indians ashamed of not putting up a fight against the invaders. And one-quarter are Indians who would like to kill all the others."

Your own men, the mestizos, they're caught in the middle. Their hatreds are vertical-they hate up and down. You're not going to change all that just by taking a jungle girl for a mistress. Concentrate on your own enemy.