17

Jack lathered himself vigorously in the shower, scrubbing his skin to cleanse it of the stink of the hold. His .357 was wrapped in a towel on a shelf within easy reach of the shower. His eyes repeatedly wandered to the outline of the door, hazily visible through the light blue translucency of the shower curtain. His mind’s eye kept replaying a variation on the shower scene from Psycho. Only here it wasn’t Norman Bates in drag coming in and slashing away with a knife—it was the Mother rakosh using the built-in knives of her taloned hands.

He rinsed quickly and stepped out to towel off.

Everything was okay in Queens. A call to Gia while Kolabati was in the shower had confirmed that Vicky was safe and sound asleep. Now he could get on with business here.

Back in the bedroom he found Kolabati sound asleep. He grabbed some fresh clothes and studied her sleeping face as he got dressed. She looked different in repose. The sensuousness was gone, replaced by a touching innocence.

Jack pulled the sheet up over her shoulder. He liked her. She was lively, she was fun, she was exotic. Her sexual skills and appetite were unparalleled in his experience. And she seemed to find things in him she truly admired. They had the basis for a long relationship. But…

… despite the intimacies they had shared, he knew he was not for her. She would want more of him than he was willing to give. And he knew in his heart he would never feel for her what he felt for Gia.

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Jack went into the front room and prepared to wait for Kusum. He pulled on a T-shirt and slacks, white socks, and tennis shoes—he wanted to be ready to move at an instant’s notice. He put an extra handful of hollow point bullets in his right front pocket and, on impulse, stuck the remaining Cricket lighter in the left. He set his wing-backed chair by the front window and faced the door. He pulled the matching hassock up and seated himself with the loaded Ruger .357 in his lap.

He hated waiting for an opponent to make the next move. It left him on the defensive, and the defensive side had no initiative.

But why play defensively? That was just what Kusum expected him to do. Why let Crazy Kusum call the shots? Vicky was safe. Why not take the war to Kusum?

He snatched up the phone and dialed. Abe answered with a croak on the first ring.

“It’s me—Jack. Did I wake you?”

“No, of course not. I sit up next to the phone every night waiting for you to call. Should tonight be any different?”

Jack didn’t know whether he was joking or not. At times it was hard to tell with Abe.

“Everything okay on your end?”

“Would I be sitting here so calmly talking to you if it wasn’t?”

“Vicky’s all right?”

“Of course. Can I go back to sleep on this wonderfully comfortable couch now?”

“You’re on the couch? There’s another bedroom.”

“I know all about the other bedroom. I just thought maybe I’d sleep here between the door and our two lady friends.”

Jack felt a burst of warmth for his old friend. “I really do owe you for this, Abe.”

“I know. So start paying me back by hanging up.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not finished asking favors yet. I got a big one coming up.”

“I need some equipment: incendiary bombs with timers and incendiary bullets along with an AR to shoot them.”

The Yiddishisms disappeared; Abe was abruptly a businessman. “I don’t have them in stock but I can get them. When do you need them?”

“Tonight.”

“Seriously—when? “

“Tonight. An hour ago.”

Abe whistled. “That’s going to be tough. Important?”

“Very.”

“I’ll have to call in some markers on this. Especially at this hour.”

“Make it worth their while,” Jack told him. “The sky’s the limit.”

“Okay. But I’ll have to leave and make the pickups myself. These boys won’t deal with anybody they don’t know.”

Jack didn’t like the idea of leaving Gia and Vicky without a guard. But since there was no way for Kusum to find them, a guard was really superfluous.

“Okay. You’ve got your truck, right?”

“Right.”

“Then make your calls, make the pickups, and I’ll meet you at the store. Call me when you get there.”

Jack hung up and settled back in his chair. It was comfortably dark here in the front room with only a little indirect light spilling from the kitchen area. He felt his muscles loosen up and relax into the familiar depressions of the chair. He was tired. The last few days had been wearing. When was the last time he had had a good night’s sleep? Saturday? Here it was Wednesday morning.

He jumped at the sudden jangle of the phone and picked it up before it finished the first ring.

“Hello?”

A few heartbeats of silence on the other end of the line, and then a click.

Puzzled and uneasy, Jack hung up. A wrong number? Or Kusum checking up on his whereabouts?

He listened for stirrings from the bedroom where he had left Kolabati, but none came. The ring had been too brief to wake her.

He made his body relax again. He found himself anticipating with a certain relish what was to come. Mr. Kusum Bahkti was in for a little surprise tonight, yes sir. Repairman Jack was going to make things hot for him and his rakoshi. Crazy Kusum would regret the day he tried to hurt Vicky Westphalen. Because Vicky had a friend. And that friend was mad. Madder’n hell.

Jack’s eyelids slipped closed. He fought to open them but then gave up. Abe would call when everything was ready. Abe would come through. Abe could get anything, even at this hour. Jack had time for a few winks.

The last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was the hate-filled eyes of the Mother rakoshi as she watched him from the floor of the hold after he had seared the face of one of her children. Jack shuddered and slipped into sleep.