CHAPTER TWO

WHAT CAN AIL THE MASTIFF BITCH?

Beer, cigarettes, grease, dirt, perfume, vomit and piss joinedtogether to form one smell to rule them all. This was what youencountered when you entered Knucklebones. Every time it went up mysensitive nostrils I had to blink a few times to keep my eyes fromwatering.

If the smell didn't keep away newcomers, the regular patrons did.A Knucklebones virgin would have seen construction workers withforceful laughter rising from their thick chests, toothless old mensquinting at others over their beers, women who wore too much makeupand too little clothing, hairy fellows talking out loud to nobody anda bartender ready to break a bottle over any troublemaker's head.

And then there were the Cretins. The name of their gang waswritten in studs on the backs of their blue corduroy jackets, usuallyabove a human skull or a naked lady. They had their own private spotnear the jukebox that only played their favorite songs. None of themever looked outside of their circle on his own. They all looked at anoutsider at the same time.

They were all staring at Jamie, Mouse and me when we enteredKnucklebones. With her dirty fingernails and hard stare, Jamie lookedappropriate for the bar. However, with my long hair and slightlyeffeminate face, I looked like I belonged on stage with JustinTimberlake. As for Mouse...well, he just looked like he took a wrongturn somewhere.

One of the Cretins walked over to us. More like thumped, actually.Unlike some of the other Cretins, his tall body had no beer belly. Healso had several scars criss-crossing his face.

He stopped right in front of Jamie. He looked down at her. Shelooked up at him. Neither of them blinked. The jukebox playedMotorhead -- "I'm so bad, baby, I don't care."

"Lookin' for trouble?" the tall Cretin asked.

"Nah," Jamie said. "I'm looking to kick some ass."

The tall Cretin stared at her for a few moments. Then he turnedand walked in his heavy way to the pool table. A couple of guys wereplaying pool, but they quickly stopped. When the tall Cretin took oneof their cues, he heard no objections.

Then he clumped back toward Jamie. He held the cue in one handlike a toothpick. He stopped a few steps away from Jamie, stared ather for another second and then threw the cue at her.

She caught it smoothly in one hand. Half of a smile picked up acorner of her mouth.

The tall Cretin gave her the same smile in return. "Rack 'em up,"he said.

The other Cretins cheered. The two guys playing pool moved to oneside, but they didn't mind too badly. They were about to see a clashof the champions. The tall Cretin -- his name was Grant -- and Jamiehad been pitting their skills against each other for two years.

Mouse and I joined Jamie at the pool table with the Cretins. Oneof the Cretins went to get Jamie a beer as the balls were racked up.Another Cretin came toward Mouse and said, "Hey, Mouse, how's itgoin'? You groovy?"

"I'm groovy," Mouse cheerfully replied, even though he had no ideawhat that meant.

The Cretin nodded. His name was Joey, and his gray ponytailed hairmarked him as one of the senior Cretins. He said, "Have you everheard about this new model Harley is coming out with?"

Mouse nodded and started to talk about engines. At this point Ituned out their conversation. Mouse and Joey were both gearheads.They could talk about machines into the wee hours. Mouse had evendone repair jobs on Cretin motorcycles. That was a risky proposition.Mouse could either get a bike to run like new or make it explode --nothing in between. Fortunately for diplomatic relationships betweenthe Tunnel Dwellers and the Cretins, only the former hadoccurred.

As Grant made the break, I caught the eye of Dan. He was theleader of the Cretins. Unlike his compatriots, I had never seen Danlook mean, even when he was knocking teeth out of somebody's mouth. Inodded to him. He motioned toward the bar, meaning he wanted aprivate talk.

We walked toward the bartender. "Are you finally going to buy me abeer?" I wondered.

Dan glanced at me, then said to the bartender, "A Coke forhim."

"Aaaaah," I faux-moaned.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of months," Dan observed. He didn'tmention the precise event that we had attended. It had been amemorial service for a friend -- a friend who died because of myactions.

"I've been hanging around with Father, mostly," I said.

Dan nodded. "Good to hear. Wasn't good to hear what happened toyou on Fifth Avenue."

"Wasn't good to experience it, either." The old wound in myshoulder twinged.

"You know, if you're ever in trouble again, the brothers and Iwill be there to back you up. Same goes for your dad and theTunnels."

"Well," I said as the bartender set a glass of soda in front ofme," that's why they call you a Helper." I lifted the glass andtoasted Dan.

"So, next time ask for help."

"I will."

"Good. Glad to see you're being less of an asshole than you weretwo months ago."

"Was I being an asshole?"

"You have to ask?"

I smiled and sipped from the glass.

"By the way," Dan said, "some lady down at the other end of thebar is watching you."

"I noticed. She's been watching me ever since I walked in. Neversaw her before."

"I have. She's been coming to this bar for the past week. Beenquiet. Keeping to herself."

"Not for much longer. She's coming this way."

I eventually turned to face the woman. She didn't look like aregular of Knucklebones. She was dressed casually in a sweater andsneakers, but there are clothes people choose to wear for comfort andclothes people wear because they don't have anything else.Knucklebones' regulars favor the latter. This woman looked like sheworked in an office.

At the same time, she didn't seem uncomfortable in the bar. Shehad a quiet confidence indicating that she knew how to handle herselfin a dive. One of those things she undoubtedly had to do inKnucklebones was fend off would-be suitors. She was an attractivewoman of Arabic descent. Her skin and eyes came in fine shades ofbrown. Her dark hair had been twisted into a long ponytail. Theplainness of her clothes couldn't hide her healthy breasts and hips.When I turned to her, she smiled at me.

"You," she said, "look like an interesting person."

"Thanks," I replied. "So do you."

"Excuse me," Dan said and headed back alone to the pool table. Hisdeparture wasn't brusque at all. I wondered who had so skillfullytaught decorum to the leader of the Cretins.

"You seem a little young to be in here," she observed.

"I am." I held up the glass. "That's why I'm drinking this. Notthat." I indicated the glass of beer in her left hand.

"Still, I'm surprised they let you in here. Especially sinceyou're not afraid to get in touch with your feminine side."

I laughed and scratched my long blonde hair. "I guess."

She moved forward until she was a few inches away from me. "Whatdo you say we go somewhere quiet?"

Women have approached me a lot more than I have approached them.I'm not bragging about it.

Well, I am bragging. A little. However, I owe my attractiveness togenetics and a unique upbringing. It's nothing I had to obtaindeliberately. I never had to chase after a woman.

Except for one. That's why I had to turn down this prettystranger. I wish that my initial instinct had been to say "Nay, youcannot seduce me, woman!" But as I stood before this lady, Iremembered how uncomplicated my love life had been just a few monthsago. Back then it was sex, sex, sex with all kinds of women rangingfrom a pornography dealer to a famous movie star. And I would belying if I said that I didn't miss it. I once had fun and orgasms.Now I had passion and devotion and a bunch of other bullshit that hadgiven me nothing but grief. I was very tempted to relive the old daysand forget about my current troubles. And I knew that Alexandrawouldn't mind. Hadn't she been the one to insist on the distancebetween us?

I would mind, though. Call me a reactionary, but I think lovemeans putting a stamp on your dick that says "Property of MyAmour."

It took me a few seconds to remember that. I cleared my throat andsaid, "Maybe we should stay right here."

The smile remained on the woman's face, even though her eyesappeared sad. "And the flirting stops just like that?"

"I'm sorry," I sighed. Turning to the right, I placed my glass onthe bar. As I turned back to the woman, I said, "I'm very flattered,but right now I..."

Knucklebones, like all sensible bars, had a no-guns policy. And ifyou kept returning to a bar, someone there would have noticed thatyou were packing heat. This woman obviously knew that, so she insteadhad brought a knife.

She hadn't stopped smiling, but now her voice was a hiss. "Becalm," she said, "or I'll cut you wide open."

I hadn't heard the click of her switchblade in the noise of thebar. Neither had anybody else. She was standing close to me so nobodyelse could see the knife pointing at my stomach.

I froze the smile on my face. "Do I look calm?" I asked.

"Enough." She placed her glass on the bar. "Now the two of us aregoing to walk out of here. Try to warn anyone and I'll rip yourintestines out. Are we clear?"

I nodded. She reached under my jacket and curved her arm around myside. I could feel the wrist of her knife-hand against my back.

"Put your arm on my shoulders and walk to the door. Lookcasual."

I obeyed her orders. Hey, look, a customer might have said. Jacobbagged himself another one. Look at her pawing him under his jacket,har-har.

I wasn't scared, but not just because I had been in tightsituations before. I had the odd feeling that this woman could listento reason. As we exited the bar for the sidewalk, I said, "Mind if Iask..."

She pressed her hand against my back. "Move. We're heading for thesubway."

"Look, whatever I did..."

"Shut up and keep..."

The door to Knucklebones opened and several people exited at once.It sounded a little too rushed to my ears. It sounded the same way tomy kidnapper. She yanked my arm off her shoulders, jerked my handbehind my back and spun me toward the door. She held the knife just acentimeter away from my throat.

I could now see Jamie, Dan and the Cretins. Jamie must have seenme with the woman and gotten suspicious. Jamie and Grant were stillholding pool cues. Mouse looked around the corner of the door inconfusion.

"Think about what you're doing, lady," Jamie suggested as shegripped the stick.

"You think about whether you want your friend to die." The womanforced me to move backwards, but slowly. Jamie and the Cretinsfollowed her, equally slow.

Dan, as always, looked kind. "Ma'am," he said, "even if you getout of here, we will find you. We have contacts all over thiscity."

"I'm sure you do," the woman sneered and pushed my arm up anotherpainful inch. "This shithead's friends will undoubtedly help him likelast time."

"Last time?" I whispered. I felt very conscious of my neck musclesat that moment.

"Joe Maxwell sends his regards," she growled in my ear.

Now it was clear. With a louder voice I said, "Jamie, go backinside."

Jamie looked firmly into my eyes, wanting to know if I wassure.

"All of you. Inside. Now."

Jamie turned to Dan. The two of them had a silent conversation,then Dan nodded to the Cretins. Reluctantly they pulled back into thebar. Jamie gave Mouse a firm nudge to keep him indoors.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" the woman said.

"This might." I grabbed the wrist of her knife-hand with my freearm. She had been expecting that, but not my speed and strength.Before she could respond, I pulled the knife away from my throat andjerked my other hand out of her hold. My left hand joined my righthand on her arm, and I swung her to the front of me.

She was faster and stronger than I had expected, too. As I swungher around, she hit me in the ear with her free hand. I saw spotssquirm in front of my eyes. I decided that I had taken enough ofthis.

When I got her all the way around, I charged forward and slammedher against the wall of Knucklebones. She clenched her teeth and keptfrom crying out, but her hand weakened. The knife slipped from herhand and landed on the sidewalk.

As I pressed her against the brick wall, I got right in her faceand said, "You think I'm responsible for Joe's death, don't you?"

Her angry expression was my answer.

"Well...I am."

I pushed myself away from her and spread out my arms. "But not inthe way you think."

She stared at me, undoubtedly wondering if she should go for theknife.

"Know this -- if I could have taken the bullet for Joe, I wouldhave. He was my friend -- one of the best friends I've ever had. AndI'm guessing he was your friend as well. Which means that we could befriends, but we got started on the wrong foot here."

Her expression was becoming more confused than angry. I continued,"I'm also guessing you know I was there when Joe got shot. And maybeyou also think I set him up for a hit, right?"

"What else am I supposed to think?" she muttered.

"I don't know." I sighed, then said, "I'm Jacob, by the way."

She took a long hard look at me, then bent down and picked up theknife. "Well, Jacob..." She stood up straight and folded the knife."...why were you sitting next to Joe when he got shot? And how come Ihaven't found one statement by you in the police records? And justhow were you responsible for his death?"

I crossed my hands behind my back. "It's complicated."

"I bet."

"Short answer -- I did some stupid things that put Joe in thecross hairs."

"Whose cross-hairs? The people who killed Russ Garner?"

I laughed briefly and without mirth. "You know quite a bit."

"Not nearly enough. What I do know is that Joe had beeninvestigating the murder of a book-dealer. And that the descriptionof the young man with him at the time of his death matches thedescription of another young man involved in a rather unusualincident at 817 Fifth Avenue. I also know that even though there area whole lot of things here which make zip sense, nobody -- and Imean, nobody, not the new District Attorney, nobody in his office,the police department, the mayor's office, the media, Homelandfucking Security -- seems to want answers." She paused, then added,"Except me."

"I gather you used to work for the D.A."

"I was an assistant for Joe. I used to work for the new D.A. untilI got tired of getting jerked around."

"So you hang out in bars."

"I've been going to the places Joe used to visit regularly. Likethis place." She pointed her thumb at Knucklebones. "I couldn'tfigure out why the hell he kept coming here. I only learned about itafter I went through his personal stuff."

"His personal stuff? How did you get access to..." I paused toexamine her tense face, then said, "An assistant, you say."

"Yeah."

"And what else?"

"None of your damn business."

"I'm trying to understand why an apparently intelligent womanwould try to kidnap a guy. I'm wondering what she thought she wasgoing to do with him. Maybe she was driven by personal rea..."

"Joe and I were fucking each other. Okay?"

"You were lovers."

The woman looked away from me and took several breaths. "Forgethim being D.A.," she finally said. "He didn't deserve this."

I walked up to her and almost placed a hand on her shoulder. Ipulled back my hand at the last moment. She turned her face to me andsaid, "So that's my story. What's yours?"

"It's..."

"Complicated?"

"It's not something you just leap into. I understand why youpulled a knife on me. I sure as hell don't sympathize, but..."

"I didn't know what else to do. When I saw you, I thought -- Ihave to grab this. I have to bring this guy down and make himtalk."

"You jumped through a window without looking."

"I guess so."

I had to smile. "Trust me, I've done that before. Literally andfiguratively." I stopped smiling. "And that's what got Joe killed. Doyourself a favor -- back away from this. In fact, that's the verything I told Joe to do before he was killed. Unfortunately I was toolate for him. I hope I'm not too late for you."

I meant for those to be my last words. I turned away from thewoman and walked toward the bar entrance. I had gone a few steps whenI heard --

"I can't back away."

I stopped and looked at the woman. She looked back at me and, forthe first time since I had met her, I felt scared. I felt scared forher and for everyone around her. I remembered what Edward Bradburyhad told me about the Tower's more cautious policy towardassassinations. I didn't believe him then, but now I hoped he wastelling the truth. If this woman ever got on the Tower's radar...

"What do you need to know?" I asked

"Everything."

Remember that lecture I gave her about resisting your impulses?Well, I'm not good at taking my own advice because I suddenly decidedto do something that I had been told not to do since I was ababy.

"If you want to know everything," I told the woman, "then youfollow these directions."

I explained where to go. At one point, she interrupted me. "Wait,that's underground."

"Yes. Come there tomorrow and wait."

"Why not right now?"

"Because there are preparations to make."

"Uh-huh. How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"Do you still think I'm working with the people who killedJoe?"

She hesitated, then said, "They're protecting you -- keeping youout of the light."

"I know. But they keep me a secret to keep their own asses asecret. Trust me -- I would love to just wipe them off the planet. Ifyou want to know why that can't be done, follow my directionstomorrow."

She watched my face for any hints of trickery. She found a lotthat didn't make sense, but no deception. "Okay," she said. "Why thehell not?"

With that she turned and walked away from me. I almost entered thebar when I realized something. "Hey," I called out.

She stopped and looked back at me.

"What's you name?" I asked.

"Layla Mubarak. And, no, I'm not named after that stupid song. I'mnamed after a writer."

"Layla Ba'albaki?"

She blinked. I shrugged and said, "I've read a little."

For the first time she gave me a real smile -- not a big one, butit was there. "You are an interesting person."

I waited until she turned a corner and left my sight. I enteredthe bar and discovered several people wondering what the hell justhappened.

"It's cool now," I said.

"It's cool," Jamie echoed in a flat voice.

"Yeah. Look, I'm going back to the Tunnels. You can..."

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me who that womanwas."

"I just met her myself."

Jamie looked like she wanted to crack a pool cue over my head."What does that..."

"I'll tell you in the morning. Now I just want to go to bed. Goodnight."

On that rather petulant note I left Knucklebones. Jamie could havechased after me, but must have decided that I was having one of mysnits. I was left to walk the streets of New York City alone.

I took the long way back to the Tunnels. I stopped by an abandonedstore on 41st Street. Its owner had been murdered months ago. He hadbeen a book-dealer. An hour after I had visited the empty store I saton a bench in Central Park for awhile. I remembered seeing a friendgetting shot on this very spot.

I finally reached the Tunnels and went to my chambers. As I restedin bed I thought about Layla. She was one more person I had hurtthrough my stupidity. What had been worth all this pain anddeath?

Then...oh, that voice, that voice reading Keats...the soundsurfaced in my memory, overcoming my guilt, making me forget thestories of what she had done, what I had witnessed...

I feel asleep praying that I would meet her again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When I awoke, I saw my father standing over me. His expression waskind, but also wary. Before I could say a word, he said --

"She's here."