Greg Iles - The Devils Punchbowl

“She’s alive,” Dad says with conviction. “I know she is. I can feel it.”

My father has never been the mystical type. “Feel it? Aren’t you the one who told me that when you die, you’re dead?”

“I am. But sometimes I have a feeling about things. Things as they'’re supposed to be.”

“What’s your feeling now?” Kelly asks.

Dad takes my hand and squeezes as hard as he can with his diminished strength. “Caitlin’s going to be part of this family for a long time. I

know

that. I refuse to accept any other possibility.”

For a few seconds I actually believe him. Then Kelly sits erect, grabs his pistol, and jumps to his feet. “There’s somebody outside.”

He’s right. Someone’s knocking softly on the front door. With Kelly in the lead, all three of us walk to the foyer. He motions us back, then, holding his pistol along his leg, leans against the wall beside the door and says, “Who’s there?”

“Walt,” says a male voice. “Walt Garrity.”

We all look at each other in surprise. Kelly reaches out and opens the door, aiming his gun through the crack. After a moment, he pulls Walt through the door and shuts it behind him.

“What happened?” I asked. “You have any word on Caitlin?”

Walt shakes his head dejectedly. “Nothing. I'm sorry, boys. I'm blown.”

“What do you mean?”

“My end of this operation’s over.”

“Let’s get back in the kitchen,” says Kelly. “You want some coffee, Walt?”

“I wouldn'’t turn it down. I got a long drive ahead of me.”

In the kitchen Walt sits to my father’s right, and I sit opposite him while Kelly pours the coffee. Walt waves his hand over the cup to indicate he wants it black.

“So what happened?” I ask.

“They had the dogfight tonight, like I said. I went. Took a hooker with me for cover. I’'ve had one with me every night. Started out with a white girl, local. Tipped her heavy and sent her home at the end of each night. But tonight I had a different one. Anyhow, when I got to the fight, it looked like Kelly was right. They were testing me. It was just a bunch of country boys fighting a couple of pit bulls. Had some hog dogs there too. Strictly low-rent. Still, everything was going all right. Then the fight broke up. Guess they got word somebody was flying the river in a chopper.”

“That was us.”

“I figured. After that, I told the hooker I wanted to go back to the hotel. I figured I had more chance learning something about Caitlin from her than from anyone else.”

“And?”

“You said the first hooker was white,” Kelly says. “Was this girl black?”

“No. Chinese. They got quite a few Chinese girls on Sands’s boat, and I thought she might have some inside poop, because of the

Po connection. Her English was pretty bad, but there was something different about this girl. She reminded me of a girl I knew in Japan, during the war.” Walt looks at my father. “Kaeko, remember? That girl in Kobe I told you about?”

Dad nods.

“This girl’s name was Ming….” Walt trails off.

“So what happened in the room?” Kelly prompts.

“I don'’t know, exactly. I just wanted to talk to her, which was stupid, because of the language problem, but when we got in there, she took off her dress and started to get in the bed. I told her I just wanted to talk. And then…then

I

started to talk. I told her about Kaeko, about my R and R in Japan, that stuff. She was listening, but she was taking off my jacket and shirt too. She got real quiet when she saw my derringer hanging around my neck, but then she smiled and took that off like it was no big deal. She pushed me down on the bed and started to get on top of me…and that’s when it happened.”

“What?” Dad asks.

“She stood up straight and started talking in a different voice. She went from sounding like a Hong Kong streetwalker to Greer Garson in about half a second. Told me to go back home to Texas if I wanted to stay alive.”

With a chill of foreboding, I get up and go to the counter, then shuffle through the pages in the FedEx package Lutjens sent.

“She took my derringer,” Walt says. “She held it on me as she backed out of the room.”

“What exactly did she say?” Kelly asks.

“She said, ‘You’re a long way from home, old man. Go back to Texas, if you want to live.’”

“Ming the Merciless,” Dad says softly.

“Ming the Merci

ful,

” Kelly corrects him.

Walt watches curiously as I cross the room and hand him a five-by-seven photo of Jiao Po. Then he looks down, stares for a couple of seconds, and says, “That'’s her. Son of a bitch. Who is she?”

“Jonathan Sands’s girlfriend. The niece of Edward Po.”

Walt’s head snaps up, his weathered cheeks flushed.

“She was supposed to kill you,” Kelly says. “Or to set you up for it, anyway. But something made her stop at the last minute.”

Walt blinks at Kelly.

“I bet the hotel maid would have found you dead tomorrow morning, probably from an apparent heart attack. A little Viagra by the bed…end of story.”

“Why didn't she do it?” I muse.

Walt snorts and shakes his head. “Because she saw I was a broke-dick old bastard in way over his head.

Damn,

that’s hard to bear.”

“Would you rather be dead?” Kelly asks.

“Maybe,” Walt mutters. “What a way to finish up.” He looks over at my father, then me. “I haven'’t helped you boys one damn bit. All I did was lose a bunch of your money. And I still don'’t know how they copped to me.”

“They could have followed you here yesterday,” I point out.

“No. I'm sure about that.”

“Were you doing anything with the white hooker?” Kelly asks. “Sexual stuff, I mean?”

“Naw. Told her I was too old to get it up anymore, and she was fine with that. Less work for the same money.”

Kelly rubs his thumb and forefinger together with a sandpaper sound. “Still, if she told any of the other girls that, it might have drawn some interest. I doubt many johns pay good money without wanting something at the end of the night. At least a little strip show, if not a blow job.”

“Maybe,” allows Walt. “But I don'’t think she would have told. She wanted me to herself. Why share an easy mark?”

“It doesn’'t matter now,” I tell him. “You did what you could. Sands is a smart son of a bitch. You probably just pushed too far too fast.”

“I am getting impatient in my old age.”

Kelly gives Walt a “buck-up” smile. “No, you’re getting too decent for the work. If you’d screwed that first whore silly, they’d never have caught onto you.”

Walt’s face remains wrinkled with concentration. “It was the girl. Ming, or Jiao, whatever. Sands sent her to try and read me, and she did. Just like a book. To tell you the truth, I feel a little shaky now. Kelly’s right. I came close to buying it tonight, without even knowing it.”

Dad gets up slowly and gives his old friend a consoling pat on the shoulder. “That means your luck’s holding, Walt. That'’s something to celebrate.”

The old Ranger shakes his head, his sense of failure palpable in the room. “No. I’d say that’s about as clear a message as a man gets that it’s time to hang up his spurs.”

“You’re not serious about driving back tonight, are you?”

“Yep. I never want to see that hotel room again, and I couldn'’t sleep now anyway. Too much to think about. And Carmelita’s been patient with me. I need to get on back to Texas.”

Dad doesn’'t waste time trying to persuade his friend to stay. He knows Walt’s mind is made up. “What can we do for you?”

“Walk me to the door, partner. That'’s it.”

We all rise and follow him into the foyer. “A pretty poor showing for me,” Walt says, shaking hands all around. “But don'’t lose heart. Kelly, you quoted that old ‘One riot, one Ranger’ saw to me on the night we first met. I'’ll leave you with the real one we used to live by.”