The Girl In The Glass Part 5

"Antony? You saw him?"

"From the upstairs window. I watched the whole thing."

"I have one question," I said. "Why are you helping us?"

"Not us," she said. " You You. We Hindus have to stick together."

"You were never convinced, even for a second, by my turban?"

She shook her head.

"When did you come north?" I asked.

"'In twenty-four," she said. "I was eight."

"The big year," I said. "Me too, but I was nine."

"We got on a bus in Ciudad Juarez," she said, "and it took us to California. My parents went to work in Parks's orchard out there. I was sent to the mansion to work in the kitchen. My mother died of typhoid. My father was eventually repatriated. I was lucky, I suppose. When Parks moved here from California, I was brought along."

The moonlight illuminated her face, and I could see the sadness in it. "Y tu?" she asked.

"We lived in Mexico City, and my family survived the worst of the struggle-the sh.e.l.ling, Zapata's siege of the city, all of it. Just when it seemed that things were looking up, my father was caught in an exchange of gunfire between Zapatistas and Carranza's soldiers. He was on his way to the market."

"How old were you?" she asked.

"Four. Later, when the border opened in twenty-four, my mother took me and my older brother, Hernando, and we fled."

"You pick crops?" asked Isabel.

"No," I said. "My mother wanted to go east, to New York."

"Por que aqui?"

"She heard farm labor was bad, that factory work was better. We got a small apartment in a building on the East Side, no heat, and we had to boil the water that came from the pipes. We were only there for a month before she didn't return from work one day. No one knew what happened to her. She just never came back."

"You must have been scared," she said.

"My brother and I were evicted and roamed the streets, eating out of garbage pails and scrounging leftovers from the back doors of restaurants, begging change."

She put her hand out and lightly touched the side of my face. "And the handsome man with the mustache?"

"He found me in the street, unconscious," I told her. "I'd been separated from Hernando, and I couldn't survive without him. I pa.s.sed out in the gutter one night, and Sch.e.l.l just happened to be in the city on a job. He took me home and raised me."

"Un milagro," she said.

I nodded, clearing my eyes. It had been so long since I'd allowed myself to think about the past. All of the considerable effort put toward my studies had been an attempt to erase it. Sitting close to Isabel made the early days return, vivid and full of life, as if my memory was a room full of b.u.t.terflies.

LIKE A GHOST.

Your English is perfect," she said.

"Better than my swami?"

She laughed. "Me da problemas."

"You do well," I said. "I had private tutors. They came five days a week. Sch.e.l.l told me if I wanted to succeed here, I needed to get so good at the language that I could convince people that night was day."

"And that's your life now," she said.

I nodded, lifting the hat off my head.

"What's your name?" she asked.

I told her.

"Sientate a mi lado, and we'll watch the water," she said, patting the air beside her. I moved closer to her and turned to look out over the sound. Her hair lightly whipped across my face, carrying the vague scent of some spice. Leaning back, arms behind me and fingers braced against the rock surface, our shoulders touching, I was in a daze. My head swam, I felt weak and there was a nervous energy in my chest. We sat for some time in silence, and then she leaned against me.

"Parks is sending me back to Mexico in the spring," she said. "The only reason he's waiting is that he doesn't want to train someone new during the holidays."

"Why?" I asked, sitting forward and slipping my arm lightly around her shoulders.

"His friends have told him it's not right to have a Mexican working for him. You know, La Depresion, the repatriation..."

I wanted to say something to comfort her, but all I could offer was silence and a firmer grip.

"It's fine," she said. "I want to go back and find my father."

"In twenty-four they invited us to come, because they needed us. Now we're vermin."

"Un pais desconocido," she said and shook her head.

We sat very still then, watching the water and the moonlight upon it. Eventually I remembered Antony and the promise I'd made to be back within an hour. Saying nothing, I turned, kissed Isabel on the cheek and got up. She took hold of my s.h.i.+rt before I could rise, though, and pulled me close to her, kissing me quickly on the lips. In that moment, I realized I had fallen in love.

When I stood, I nearly toppled off the boulder and had to scrabble for a moment to right myself. She laughed. "I want to stay, but I can't," I told her.

"I'll call you," she said.

"I'll come," I promised as I stepped down onto the beach. Filled with a new kind of energy, I sprinted for a distance. Then missing her already, I turned for one more glimpse. I scanned the dark beach but didn't see her. Finally, I caught sight of her white dress, glowing in the moonlight as she ascended, like a ghost, the long flight of steps. I waved to her with the hat, but she couldn't see me. I began to walk quickly, hoping I hadn't kept Antony waiting too long. A bank of clouds moved in, obscuring the light of the moon. My thoughts were still with Isabel, and memories of our street in Mexico City mingled with my image of her. I trudged along, awake but dreaming, until I heard a voice. I started and looked toward the water's edge. There, I saw a cigarette ash go red hot for an instant, and I realized I was not alone on the beach. I stopped walking and listened. There were four or five shadows moving, gathered around the larger shadow of what appeared to be a boat pulled up on the sh.o.r.e. The sound of voices came more clearly to me now. I stayed very still, hoping they hadn't seen me. Who they were, I had no idea, but I was certain I didn't want to be discovered. In a moment, my elation over having kissed Isabel gave way to fear. I thought if I stepped carefully, making as little noise on the rocks as possible, I could get past them without their noticing me. After no more than ten steps, though, the moonlight found a break in the cloud cover and bathed the beach in its glow. I panicked and began to run, and the moment they heard my shoes on the stones, I heard one of them whisper, "Over there, get him."

I broke into a full sprint, and above the sound of my own pounding heart, heavy breathing, and footfalls, I heard my pursuers close behind me. There was no time to turn and see who was following, but from the sound of it, I surmised there were at least two of them, maybe three. Now that I had been spotted, I hoped the moon would continue to s.h.i.+ne, as I could not spare an instant trying to locate the stairway leading to my rendezvous with Antony.

I ran like a rabbit, spurred on by fear, for at least five full minutes before I began to weaken. My legs cramped, there was a pain in my side, and I gasped for air, but I pushed on as they closed the gap afforded by my head start. Then I saw ahead, along the sh.o.r.e, the outline of the white buoy I had noted earlier. With a quick cut, I turned in toward the cliffs, searching frantically for the stairway. For a few moments, I ran with no destination in sight, merely guided by faith that I would find my escape route. Another cloud covered the moon, and the beach was again plunged in darkness. Almost at the last moment, I saw the steps running up the cliff face and made for them. One of the pursuers had broken away from the others and was so close I could hear him panting behind me. I reached the stairs and took the first ten steps in three inspired bounds. I lingered on the tenth step, and when I heard the wood of the stairs creak behind me, I turned, sat, and lifted my legs, drawing them in toward my chest. He was a big man with wide shoulders, a knitted cap on his bald head, and grasping hands that appeared huge as they lunged for me out of the dark. That was all I saw of him, though, because when I released my legs, the soles of my shoes. .h.i.t him square in the face, and he tumbled backward and away. I didn't wait to see where he landed but immediately rose and continued upward. In the meantime, another of them had gained on me and was already on the steps. The exertion of stopping the lead fellow had sapped my strength, and with every step in the ascent, I lost a measure of speed. I was literally gasping now, and I thought my heart would explode. There was no choice, I had to stop, if only for a moment to catch my breath. In doing so, I looked down and saw the second man just a dozen steps below me. Luckily, he was also winded and had paused briefly. During that respite I looked up and saw that I had only twenty steps to go. I knew I could make it. One more deep breath, and I plunged forward. I saw the trees of the woods above me, saw the final step of the stairway, and felt a new burst of energy. That's when I slipped, lost my footing, and fell forward, banging my s.h.i.+ns and elbows on the hard wood. My stumble gave the man behind me just enough time to catch up.

Yes, I made it to the top and onto the forest path before he caught me, but I wasn't too far in among the trees before I was. .h.i.t from behind. He lunged and managed to wrap his arms around my ankles. The hat I'd carried through all of it flew out of my grasp, and the impact of the fall jarred me. Still I squirmed like an animal to escape his hold. Managing to roll over and free one of my legs, I began kicking him as hard and fast as I could.

"I'll kill you, you son of a b.i.t.c.h," he groaned.

On the last wild kick, my shoe flew off and hit him in the face, and that was the moment of distraction I needed to free my other leg and scrabble to my feet. I was off again, hobbling over sharp sticks and stones littering the path. Then a gunshot sounded from a few feet behind me and I froze. When the echo of the explosion died away I heard him say, "Move an inch and I'll drop you." I turned to face him, bent in half, trying to catch my breath. He was only a silhouette, but most definitely a silhouette with a gun. Resting a hand against a tree at the side of the path, he too was panting. "Over here, Bill," he called out, apparently signaling his position to his friend somewhere behind him. He lifted his gun arm and said the word "What...," but that was all he said. A shadowy figure darted out from behind the tree he leaned against. There was a heavy thud whose center was a quiet crunch of bone, and my captor went down fast without so much as a peep. The large shadow moved toward me.

"Let's get out of here, kid," it said.

"There's another one coming," I told Antony.

"No there isn't," he said.

DANCING IN THE DARK.

Bootleggers," he said as we took the road back to the house. He drove with the window open, flicking ashes into the night.

"What?" I asked.

"They're running booze in from Canada," he said. "Probably some lousy grain they mix with juniper berries and perfume."

"I think they wanted to kill me."

"I doubt it," said Antony. "They don't need bodies. They wanted to know who you were. If they thought you were a fed, then they might kill you."

"Thanks," I said.

"Hey, where's the hat?"

"Back on the trail. I dropped it when the guy jumped me."

"Well, at least Parks won't find it now. So, you saw the girl?"

"Yeah," I said, and there must have been something in the way I said it because Antony hummed and mumbled "Dancing in the Dark" the rest of the way home.

Sch.e.l.l was waiting for us in the living room when we came in. He eyed me up and down once, focusing on the dirt stains on my pants and s.h.i.+rt, my torn collar, my missing shoe. He didn't ask any questions but merely raised his right eyebrow.

I knew he was expecting an answer, and I was more than willing to tell him what had happened, but Antony had sworn me to secrecy. Stammering, "I've got to get changed," I quickly left the room and went down the hall, leaving it for the big man to sort out. Stopping short of my bedroom, I waited to hear the excuse he'd concoct.

"I thought you were going for cigarettes," said Sch.e.l.l.

"Well, Boss," said Antony, and there was a long pause in which I could almost hear the gears in that enormous head slowly turning. "I did get cigarettes, but the kid asked me to drop him off for an hour so he could meet up with that girl he'd met at the Parks place a couple weeks ago."

"What was it, a bare knuckle match?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"You know," said Antony. "First date."

"It's against policy to socialize with the clients," said Sch.e.l.l.

"Boss, she's Mexican. I thought it'd be good for him."

"Why didn't he just tell me?"

"You're his old man. No kid tells their old man that kind of c.r.a.p." Some time pa.s.sed, and then Sch.e.l.l added, "She must be a tough customer."

"What could be better?" said Antony.

Sch.e.l.l must have known I was eavesdropping from the hallway because he called for me to come into the living room. I hobbled in, one shoe still on my right foot. He pointed for me to take a seat in the chair opposite his. Antony was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded. Sch.e.l.l leaned forward and rested his winegla.s.s on the coffee table. "Gentlemen, we're in business," he said. I thought a lecture would follow, but instead he told us that Barnes had called and was eager to meet us.

"When?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Ten sharp. I think we should appear in force. So Antony, you'll wear the chauffeur rig. Diego, you'll be in swami mode, but let me do all the talking on this venture."

"Have the police come up with anything?" I asked.

"As far as he said, nothing," said Sch.e.l.l. "Tomorrow, after he meets us, if he's convinced, he promised to fill us in on the details."

"I hate to say it," said Antony, "but the girl's probably dead."

"Why?" I asked.

"Unless Barnes tells us otherwise tomorrow, it's been too long a time without a ransom demand," said Sch.e.l.l. "If someone kidnapped her, there'd be a reason, and usually that's money, especially with a mark like Barnes."

"There could be another reason," I said, not wanting to think of the girl having been murdered.

"Slim," said Antony.

"And," said Sch.e.l.l, "the chances are it was someone who knows her. That's just the odds. So keep your eyes peeled when we get over there tomorrow. Watch the help, the wife, everybody's a suspect. Even Barnes himself."

"We'll figure it out," said Antony.

"I don't take kindly to being a patsy for the spirit world," said Sch.e.l.l. "The girl in the gla.s.s, when she looked at me, it was almost as if she was daring me to figure her out." Antony stood up and announced that he was turning in. As he left the living room, walking behind Sch.e.l.l's chair, he turned his head and winked at me, a smile on his face. He'd sold me down the river to hide the fact that we'd gone out to get the hat, and I was somewhat upset with the story he'd told, but I had to hand it to him, he wasn't a bad con man.

I also stood up then, but the moment my rear end left the seat, Sch.e.l.l said, "Sit down." I did.

"You went to see Isabel tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Does Parks know?"

"No, we met on the beach."

Sch.e.l.l sat quietly, as if weighing this information. When he finally spoke, his tone led me to believe he was overriding his better judgment. "Do what you have to do, but make sure he never hears of it."

"I understand."

"One mistake and we could be out of business," he said.