23

Hours went by, and despite my attempts to stay awake, I nodded off several times. The bump on my head was throbbing and all I wanted to do was take a shower and dive into my fresh sheets. I checked my watch—1:48. I yawned so wide, my jaw cracked, causing my head to throb. Finally, I decided to go home. I had enough information, and I didn’t want to risk being discovered by staying any longer. I carefully started the car and drove with the lights off until I made it to the paved road. Only then did I turn on my headlights. When I arrived home, Modibo was catnapping in a camping chair in front of the gate. Half-asleep, he got up and let me in. After closing the gate again he walked over to my car.

“Your friend is here, boss.”

“My friend?”

“Yes, you know, your Lebanese friend.”

He pointed to a tall figure who was smoking in the yard.

“You let him in, just like that?”

“He told me he was working for you,” Modibo answered. “Was I wrong to do that?”

I gave him a wave of the hand to indicate it didn’t matter and joined the guy by the pool. He was well over six feet tall and had to weigh more than two fifty. Most of his bulk looked like muscle. He was sporting a thin Errol Flynn-style mustache and a hideous Hawaiian button-down shirt. I could see the butt of a large caliber semiautomatic sticking out of his pants.

“You must be Rony,” I said.

He nodded and threw his finished cig in the grass, which Drissa had just cut. A giant bat grazed the surface of the pool. It hardly made a ripple on the oily water.

“How long can you stay?”

“As long as it takes,” he said.

His voice was gravelly, most likely because of the Gauloises he seemed to favor. He pulled a pack from his breast pocket and lit another one. With the fresh smoke hanging from the corner of his mouth, he held the pack out to me. I declined.

“I’ll explain the situation—”

He held up his hand, indicating he didn’t need to know.

“You’re a friend of Milo’s, and I’m here to protect you. If someone attacks you, I’ll kill him. That’s all there is to know.”

“As for money—”

“Work that out with the Serb. He’s my agent, so to speak.”

We stood there silently, watching the bats perform their ballet in the sky.

~ ~ ~

The next day, I awoke at dawn. My whole body ached. I dragged myself to the shower, and the water did me good. In the bathroom cabinet, I found some codeine pills that were only a year past their expiration. I swallowed two. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that the guy looking back at me in the mirror was on his last legs: bloodshot eyes with dark circles, ashy skin color, and deep purple bruises.

I turned away, aware that the bruises would fade and I’d look better eventually, but I’d always have one foot in the grave and the other on the edge. I didn’t have a deep desire to live, but I didn’t have the balls to die either.

I dispelled my morbid musings and got dressed. The aromas of coffee and toast greeted me as I walked into the living room. Rony, cigarette in hand, was seated at the table, watching CNN on low volume. Modibo was filling his cup. The kid’s face lit up when he saw me.

“Good morning, boss. Would you like some coffee?”

I grunted, which he took as a “yes.” I watched Modibo as he served me. He was so good-hearted and enthusiastic. It was nauseating. The phone rang before I could dwell on my unkind thoughts. I picked up and immediately recognized the distinguished voice with the hint of an accent.

“Mr. Camara?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recognize me?”

“Yes, and it won’t be long before I discover exactly who you are. It’s only a matter of days, hours maybe.”

“I was thinking we might be able to reach a compromise, an honorable way to resolve this misunderstanding, which isn’t doing our affairs any good.”

“For me, there’s only one honorable way out of this, and that’s breaking your neck.”

I ended the call. Rony turned toward me.

“That was them?”

I nodded.

“All right, our options are clear now. We kill them.”

“Or they kill us,” I contemplated.

I examined my cup and eventually brought it to my lips. I was skeptical, as I had downed too many cups of Drissa’s dreadful coffee.

“Something wrong?” Modibo asked, the anxiety evident in his voice. “It’s no good?”

Shocked, I shook my head.

“No, it’s very good. No worries.”

It hurt me to think that this kid’s coffee was better than Drissa’s. It was excellent, actually. Once again, he grinned from ear to ear, and for some odd reason, it made me think of music. Young people, it seemed, lived to the beat of lively African rhythms. But when old people opened their mouths, only sharp notes came out.

“Don’t stand there like an idiot,” I told him. “Your work won’t get done by itself.”

He nodded and brought me some toast in a small basket. I was carefully buttering it when Rony abandoned the TV to send me a cheeky smile.

“What?” I grumbled.

~ ~ ~

I was about to close my car door when I felt resistance. Rony was holding it open, refusing to let go.

“Don’t take this one.”

“Why not?”

“They know it now. And plus, this car’s worn out. I sent for another one. It’s parked on the street.”

We walked down the path, and sure enough, a huge SUV topped with a roof rack was in front of the house. It was an older Land Cruiser J80, but not as old as my Toyota, and it was clearly in mint condition. Rony handed me the key.

“It’s got a turbocharged HD engine. I think you’ll like it.”

I opened the door, slid behind the wheel, and inserted the key. The Land Cruiser started without any of the sputtering I was used to. The engine roared when I revved it and settled into a healthy purr when I let up. I smiled at Rony.

“Yeah, I like it.”

The Lebanese man walked around the vehicle, opened the passenger-side door, and slid in next to me.

“What are you doing?”

“My job.”

“I didn’t ask you to come. Just stay here and watch the house.”

He turned toward me and gave me a stony look. “Just so it’s clear between us, I’m not asking your permission. I’m doing my job. If someone kills you, I’ll have to explain it to the Serb, and that’s not something I want to do.”

I searched for a good comeback, but nothing came to mind. I settled for a pathetic one. “You could at least take the wheel for me.”

“I’m your bodyguard, not your driver.”

I grumbled as I pulled away from the house.