"Van Lustbader, Eric - Dark Homecoming(eng)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Lustbader Eric)

"Spoken like a true detective." Bennie was chomping so hard on his cigar he was slowly making a mess of it. "About the Bonitas, God hears me, I got a lot more than hunches." Bennie maneuvered out into Biscayne Bay. House lights on either side lent the sky a soft magenta glow. All around them the water was dark, mysterious with man-made reflections. "This is why I can't have the cops involved. It was Antonio an' Heitor all right. They whacked Sonia as, like, some kinda warning to me."
"What makes you so sure?"
Bennie's eyes caught a cusp of the starboard running light, and for one brief instant, copper spun in their depths. "It's happened before."
Croaker didn't want to say anything at all. It was like having a dangerous fish on the line-sometimes all that was required of you was to let the line pay out.
Bennie had the kind of look on his face someone would have if he was about to lie down on a bed of nails. "I mentioned my sister Rosa, didn't I?"
Croaker nodded. "In the parking lot of the Shark Bar. You said she died five years ago."
Bennie's hands worked the controls and the cigarette lurched forward, up on plane. "Didn't tell you, though, how she died."
Croaker grabbed a handrail as he felt the slap of the salt spray on his face. Bennie's eyes were slitted by the wind, which was quartering out of the west. He broke out a pair of heavy windbreak-ers, threw one to Croaker. Out on the open water at night, moving at speed, the chill was instantly penetrating, and it would only get colder once they hit the Atlantic. As they bounced over the calm of the bay, a double line of cormorants swooped overhead like the soft flutter of a ribbon. He tilted his head back, watching them for a moment, inscrutable black runes against an indigo sky.
"Time an' place," he murmured as if to himself. "The Bonitas an' I go way back, Lewis. We grew up in the same neighborhood in Asuncion. Just like Sonia an' her brother. An' because of this, how you say, affiliation, they are people with whom I made a grave mistake."
"What was that?"
"I took them on as clients." Bennie shook his head. "That was eight years ago. God hears me, that was the blackest day of my life." He shrugged. "But, see, I was very young. An', you know, when you're young you're, like, convinced you know all the secrets of the universe. Wisdom equates with enthusiasm; it seems so simple, what life can be reduced to."
The cigarette juddered and hummed happily as it gathered speed across the bay. The expanse was dotted with islands, ablaze with light. In the distance, Croaker could see the MacArthur Causeway that ran from Twelfth Street in Miami to Fifth Street in Miami Beach. "So you took the Bonitas on as clients," he said. Bennie adjusted their course to starboard at the approach of a boat from the opposite direction. "Antonio an' Heitor are in the misery business, and let me tell you they're quite fuckin' adept at it. Drugs, white slavery, arms shipments, these are their true businesses in South America, although they make mucho dinero in the minerals company left to them by their mother. Copper, tin, lithium, beryllium, they're market movers in these ores and they do an increasing trade with the U.S. So much so, in fact, that in the past two years they've opened subsidiary offices in Miami, New York, and Washington."
"D.C.?"
Bennie nodded. "Part of their business comes from selling directly to the U.S. government." He readjusted their course to the southeast. "But the minerals business bores them. These twins live for their fun. In South America, elements within the governments call on them from time to time to disappear people-rivals, political enemies, intellectuals amassing too much of a following."
"Did you know what they did when you took them on as clients?"
"No, but I learned very fuckin' fast."
"So what you discovered was they're in effect assassins for hire." Bennie spat over the side. "If only that's all they were." They were heading directly for the MacArthur Causeway. South of that, they'd round the tip of Miami Beach and head out into the Atlantic. "See, here's the thing, Lewis. Antonio an' Heitor, they have, how should I put it?, very specialized tastes. They don't just, like, kill someone; that wouldn't be fun at all. They disappear 'em; they warehouse them. Then, at their leisure, they spend a great deal of time having their bit of fun. When it's over, they harvest the organs an' sell 'em to the highest bidder-usually that's a minister in the South American government or a member of a minister's family or a close personal friend or a political ally. You get the picture." Bennie looked at Croaker. "In this unholy fashion, the Bonitas have amassed something far more valuable than mere capital-they possess the kind of power you an' I merely dream about." He bared his teeth in a sour grin, "They own people, heart and soul. Whatever they want in South America is theirs for the taking, no questions asked. Down there, they are revered as gods. Except gods could never be half as evil as these two."
Bennie swept the cigarette around a marker buoy. "Now they've moved their operation here, Lewis. You see? They killed Sonia and took her body. Why do you think they did that?"
Croaker, staring out at the glittering lights along the bay, did not have to answer. If Bennie was right in all his suppositions, the Bonitas were harvesting her organs. What if it were true? For a moment, he was overcome by a terrifying emotion. He couldn't help but think that they must have a healthy kidney that could save Rachel's life. Could it be that somewhere in Florida there was a black market in human organs? Then reality struck him with the force of a hammer blow and he realized what he had been thinking. The stench of his own desperation disgusted him. What had his father told him? Desperation could so easily lead to corruption. What Antonio and Heitor had done to Sonia was horror enough, but his momentary response to it cut so close to the bone it laid bare his marrow. It made him feel unclean, unworthy to be Rachel's champion. In that instant, he felt an enmity to the Bonitas so profound it wrenched his heart. They had touched him deeply and personally, made him for an instant vulnerable, and that he could not allow.
Croaker and Bennie in the cigarette passed beneath the causeway in uneasy silence. The specter of the Bonitas, who seemed from Bennie's description to be imbued with an unnatural potency, hung in the night like a malevolent spirit.
"Bennie," Croaker said almost gently, "what happened with your sister? What happened with Rosa?"
"Ah!" It was almost a cry of anguish, ripped from Bennie's heart. "Five years ago, there was a particularly difficult negotiation with an American company whose market share in ores and metals would give the Bonitas, like, lickety-quick entree into the States. They told me to get it for them at all costs. That I tried to do, but this bastard, he knew how much they wanted his business an' he wouldn't go for the deals I proposed. One night he ran into them at a club an' he laughed in their faces. God hears me, that pissed them off something fierce."
Bennie took the cigarette in a breathtakingly fast arc around the tip of Miami Beach. Pale spray fountained up like the tail of a peacock. "They couldn't whack him 'cause then they'd lose what they wanted most. But, like I said, they were born pissed at the world an' now they were royally pissed. They had to blame someone for the affront, so they blamed me." He was looking out at the inky darkness of the sea. His shoulders and neck were lost within the billowing folds of the windbreaker, giving him the aspect of a wary softshell turtle.
"I hadn't done my job. If I had, the affront would never have taken place. So they told me. I was their employee but I didn't understand the true meaning of working for them. So they told me." His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and when they opened they were glossy with incipient tears. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel. "They took my Rosa, Lewis, mi hermana linda. They disappeared her, had their ungodly fun with her. An' then, to make sure I'd learned my lesson, they delivered her head to my office."
Croaker, standing very close to Bennie, could tell he was shaking. "What happened then?" he asked softly.
Bennie barked out a laugh as he came to a new heading. They were in the Atlantic now, cutting through rolling swells as the wind picked up. "What d'you think happened? I made the fuckin' deal for them. It was unholy. I abased myself for them an' got the job done. Like I shoulda done in the first place. So they told me." He shook his head ruefully. "So then, three weeks after the deal is signed, they drag this guy out of his bed an' work on him for, what?, thirty-six hours, must have been, at least. His heart's in the president of Argentina an' his liver's in the brother of the finance minster of Brazil. He paid for his affront. God hears me, we all fuckin' paid."
"But that was five years ago, Bennie." Croaker, bracing himself more firmly, jammed his freezing hands into the pockets of his windbreaker. "Why would they start again with Sonia?"
"They have long memories, you know? I thought they were through with me, but I was wrong." Bennie put the cigarette full out and they thundered across the water with teeth-jarring bumps as they sliced through rolling wave crests. He turned to Croaker briefly. "An' you know the worst part, Lewis, the part that eats at my heart like a demon? They were right about me, Antonio an'Hei-tor. Deep in my soul I didn't want to make that deal five years ago. I didn't do my best. I wanted out from under them. I wanted the deal to fail. But I didn't consider the, like, consequences. I was sure I could outwit them when no one else could." He thumped his chest with his fist. "I killed Rosa. As much as them, I am to blame for her death." His head whipped away. "You see now how life can be when you're young and know all the answers? You find out quick enough, Lewis, that you not only don't know the answers, you're clueless 'bout which fuckin' questions to ask."
His left hand jerked back on the throttle and the cigarette came off plane, slowing. The engine burbled as they rocked in the swells.
"We're here," Bennie said. He gave Croaker the wheel, then pulled out the flight bag and opened it. "Kill the engine," he said.
All hard sound ceased. In its place crept the soft susurrus of the sea. They were alone on the ocean. Land was a thin strand of light far off on the western horizon, a glow like the time-altered radiance from a distant star.
"Now this is important," Bennie said, "so pay attention." He leaned forward, dipped his hand in a small clay pot, daubed something black across Croaker's forehead, cheeks, and chin. Then he did the same to himself.
"Bennie, what the hell are we doing?"
"Shh." Bennie put his forefinger to his lips. "We are saying goodbye to Sonia."
"This"-Croaker threw his arms wide-"is your idea of a funeral?"
"Not my idea," Bennie said. "My grandfather's." He took up the towel-wrapped package that was Sonia's head. "We can proceed now. With the soot hiding our features, no spirit will be able to recognize us and pull us down as we set Sonia's spirit on its journey to the other side."
"Bennie-"
"No! Be still!" he hissed. "This is something sacred I got from my grandfather. He was a healer an' he, like, knew things. Escu-chame. Until we set Sonia's spirit on its path we're vulnerable now to forces we can't control or understand." His eyes bored into Croaker's. "Es verdad, Lewis." It's the truth. "You ready to let the world in?"
Croaker nodded. "I'm ready."
Covered with lines of black soot, Bennie's face seemed strange, as if his features had undergone some metamorphosis. Croaker put the fingertips of his right hand to his face, wondering if the same thing had happened to him.
From out of the flight bag, Bennie had produced a small iron brazier. "Listen to me, Lewis. Our world consists of three things, okay? Natural law, which has nothing to do with man-made law; energy; and consciousness. Now, consciousness is what defines you an' me-human beings, I mean. We can reason; animals can't.
They're bound solely by instinct. I mean, we have instinct, too, but we've also got consciousness. Sometimes that's good; you know, we invent, we strive-our progress comes mainly from our consciousness. But, lots of times, consciousness gets in the way of instinct, an' that, amigo, is no good at all."
"You know," Croaker said, "you have a spiritual side that's both charming and surprising."
Bennie snorted good-naturedly. "I suppose that's your idea of a compliment."
As they spoke Bennie was mixing powders poured from plastic phials. He added what appeared to be dried leaves and small twigs, ground them together in the bottom of the brazier. Out of the wind, he lit the material and silently beckoned for Croaker to crouch down beside him. The brazier was between them. Croaker saw Bennie's nostrils dilate as he drank in the smoke, and he did the same. Immediately, he was pierced with the scents of peppermint, cedar, and orange, as well as other odors, unfamiliar, pungent and earthy as chilies. He drank them in like food and, almost automatically, his eyes closed. Gradually, as he continued to breathe in the aromatic smoke, he felt his body growing heavier and heavier, as if he were becoming more sensitive to the earth's gravity. Then, there came a brief wave of dizziness, and he felt as if an umbilical had been cut. He was adrift, as if his body had taken flight and, like the cormorants high above, floated on the thermals.
In the darkness he heard Bennie's voice: "Boats are vessels for the spirits an' for the dead. My grandfather told me that boats had three uses for his Guarani ancestors. He said they all could be traced back to the migrations across the oceans the ancient peoples made. The migrations were, you know, harder than we could ever imagine an' sometimes they, like, took a lifetime. The first use is to exorcise sickness an' evil spirits; the second use is to find the lost soul of a patient near death; the third is to ferry the soul of the dead to the shores of the next life."
Silence, save for the lapping of the waves against the fiberglass hull of the cigarette. But, as in a dream, the boat seemed to rock far below them, part of another realm. He and Bennie existed as spirits around the heat of a blazing sun.
"The sea," Bennie said,"is the realm of the dead. It's vast and it's wide and it's depthless. Here begins Sonia's path; here begins her journey."
Through closed eyes and drug-heightened senses, Croaker saw Bennie rise and, leaning out over the ocean, gently deposit Sonia's remains into the water. Through closed eyes he saw the towel- wrapped package bobbing on a wave crest. Over it spun a shape he could not define. Then it resolved itself into what looked like an outline of a human eye with a double iris. At that instant, Sonia's head was sucked down into a midnight black trough never to reappear. Croaker opened his eyes, blinking. Bennie was sitting across from him as if he had never moved. But, looking around the cigarette, Croaker could find no trace of the towel-wrapped package. In a last sharp inhalation of commingled scents, an image appeared in his mind for the space of a heartbeat and then winked out. It was of Sonia plummeting like a stone into the fastness of dark waters, running with currents and certain mystery.
Croaker slept like a dead man all the way back to Bennie's. He dreamed of dancing with Sonia. They were in the dark but he knew it was the Shark Bar. He swept her around the dance floor in long, exhilarating arcs, feeling her body warm and strong as an athlete's coming close to him, then pushed apart by the dictates of the dance steps. She returned again and again to his arms, and each time she did it was like a renewal, another life being built from scratch. Her breath was warm and fragrant on his cheek, and her laughter reverberated like sweet bells on a mountainside. When they passed through a beam of diamond-bright light, it sizzled the red highlights in her hair, picked out the green motes in her eyes. And all at once he knew it wasn't Sonia he was dancing with but Jenny Marsh, Rachel's doctor. She lifted a hand and made a sign that shimmered the air with gold dust: an outline of a human eye with a double iris. A sudden movement caught his attention, and he turned to find Sonia's bloody head rolling down the steps of the Eden Roc Hotel in a welter of green sea grape and translucent jellyfish. Out of the watery depths at the bottom of the stairs rose a mammoth tiger shark. Opening its jaws, it engulfed all that remained of her. Croaker had one terrifying look into its unfathomable eye before it vanished beneath the black waves.