Part 27 (1/2)

'Sit and be still,' Fouad suggested, patting the ground beside him. 'They could have infrared.'

'I don't want to take a pain pill,' Harris said. 'I want to be clear-headed when they kill us.'

'Shh,' Fouad said.

'f.u.c.k, it hurts.' Harris squatted beside him and they watched the skies over the plain. Soon, Harris was on his back again, asleep but restless. The last of the dust devils had cleared. The sun was within minutes of setting. Soon it would be dusk, then night.

Fouad used his compa.s.s and quickly oriented himself, then laid down the flap edge of the sack and knelt on it to pray. He had to begin before sunset. Eventually he would have to catch up on the missed prayers. To pray was more than relief, far more than duty; it was a marvel of renewed strength.

He performed four raka'at. raka'at.

A few minutes later, Fouad heard Harris cursing softly in his sleep. This was a profanation, but what could be done? His companion was in pain. He finished his prayers, then added a Ya Latif. Ya Latif. As the evening deepened and the plain was covered in a veil of gray, Fouad spoke in a soft voice, As the evening deepened and the plain was covered in a veil of gray, Fouad spoke in a soft voice, 'You who is gentle with children still in the wombs of their mothers, exhibit thy gentleness and grace towards us, a grace that befits Your Generosity and Your Mercy, O You who is the Most Merciful...'

He did not often pray for relief from his distress. It was his thought that G.o.d, even in his deep and abiding love, had many concerns and should not be bothered for petty ills and sorrows. This his father had taught him, though his mother had also said that G.o.d never tired of listening. But now was definitely the time for extraordinary help and guidance.

When night fell, they could not risk using any light, and so they would not see the scorpions.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE.

Seattle.

'I am no longer your boss,' Rebecca said. 'You're buying the first round.'

'You're still senior,' William said. This brought a look from her that seemed at once angry and vulnerable. She turned back to the bar menu.

'For someone of my age and seniority, I am am hungry,' she said with forced cheer. hungry,' she said with forced cheer.

'Not what I meant, of course,' William said. He smiled at their figures in the mirror behind the ranked collection of bottles filled with amber, green, blue, and pale fluids. 'We could buy all of those and forget for an entire evening. That's what blue people often do.'

'Tell me more about people who are blue.'

'All right,' William said. 'We are few. We are blue. We protect him and her and you. you. I had a partner when I was working OCID-' I had a partner when I was working OCID-'

'Organized Crime Investigations Division,' Rebecca said. 'Right after getting kicked out of vice. That's how you got into FBI. The joint taskforce.'

'That's part of it. My father's reputation preceded me like Cyrano's nose.'

'Cyrano? Was he a goombah?'

'Cyrano de Bergerac. He had a huge nose and flew to the moon. You know Cyrano. He wrote letters for a guy who was in love with Roxanne. But he was in love with Roxanne, too, so it was tragic.'

Rebecca gave him a you-are-s.h.i.+tting-me stare.

'Steve Martin, Darryl Hannah,' he said.

'Right.' Rebecca lifted her martini. 'Here's to romantic poetry and big noses. Tell me more about your partner. What was he like?'

'She, actually. We used hang out after work, plotting how to improve our record in the department. We were both pretty marginal.'

'No hotshots?'

'Our instincts were hinky,' William said. 'We just naturally liked people.'

'Bad juju,' Rebecca said. She tapped the bar and asked for another. 'This one is on me.'

'Thanks,' William said. 'Anyway, it was good, and it was bad. We were great at interrogations. Together, we could get under the skin of a perp so soft and easy he didn't even know we were injecting verbal truth serum. My partner was great at psychology. Big brown eyes, plump, sort of a Mediterranean mama. The goombahs, as you say-and the Russians, but not so much the Cambodians or Vietnamese-just wanted to open up and spill their guts. There, there, she'd say, and pat their wrists as they signed off on their confessions. But we weren't all that good at pegging them, not right away.'

'Bad for a cop,' Rebecca said. 'But good for the soul.'

'Her name was Karen Truslow. Upstate New York money, but to her folks' dismay, she turned blue. We spent a lot of time in the backs of vans listening to taps, and when things were slow we made up a dictionary of slurs. We could use them, blue people, but n.o.body else. ”Cop” is mostly okay, but ”Copper” or ”Flatfoot” or ”Screw” or anything a d.i.c.k Tracy villain would say is a mortal insult.'

'You liked her,' Rebecca said. 'But she died a tragic death and now you cherish her memory and feel guilty.'

'No, she's still in OCID. She recommended I go FBI. ”They're not so blue. They pa.s.s.”'

'That's a lie,' Rebecca said. 'I'm deep midnight. But wait. I'm senior, so I'm wrinkled and faded, like old denim.'

'You're fis.h.i.+ng,' William said.

'That means you think I'm hitting on you,' Rebecca said, turning on her stool. 'That I need to hook a compliment out of that manly, tall, broad chest...Whatever. Christ, I'm a cheap drunk. But tell me, young William Griffin. You saw me in my nightie. Is it all over for me?'

'You're tired.'

Her expression drooped. 'I'm gone. I'm dead. I'll crawl back to my desk and shuffle papers for the rest of my career. I'll retire with blue hair, my stomach hanging below my knees, and dream of filing cabinets. I'll be a faded blue bag hag.'

William shook his head. 'Let's pay.'

'You don't like my company.'

'I don't like my liquor talking with an anger chaser.'

'What?'

William's serious face broke. 'I'm tired, too.'

'You're translucent. Milky blue. I can hardly see you.' Rebecca waved her hand in front of his face. 'Agent Griffin, is that you?'

'Anything else?' asked the bartender, a slender brunette with huge eyes.

'Some food,' Rebecca said. 'We'll take the buffalo wings.'

'We call them angel wings,' the bartender said. 'Hot, mild, or boring?'

'Hot,' Rebecca said. 'Olives in parmesan. Goat cheese plate. Anything that tastes good to hungry people who are blue.'