A Small Matter (24 page)

“Thank you,” Vickie said. “I know you and I
haven’t been all that close over the years, but I think I’m
starting to appreciate your point of view.”

“That being said,” Toyama replied, “with your
permission, I must get to work.” With that, the little man began
rummaging in his bag, producing, among other things, a series of
shiny golden amulets, some colored feathers, a roll of aluminum
foil and--as a piece de resistance--a large, gallon-size clear
plastic Ziploc bag which contained three dead rats coated in
cooking oil, the disgusting sight of which aroused within Vickie
the acute dislike she felt for all vermin, living or dead.

“I’m going outside to scream bloody murder,”
she said, “and then to hurl.”

Toyama paid her no mind, his attentions
focused on the job at hand--a miracle, one sorely needed by
Mulroney, no matter what the source, a feat requiring the full
harnessing of the thaumaturgical practices of his religion in the
face of his skeptical company. He did not blame them for their
skepticism towards his magic--they were, after all, possessed by
the evil spirits of Western technology and scientific thinking, and
could not therefore be expected, while under the influence of such
powerful illusions, to understand the true nature of the wily fox
before him.

Chapter 37

“How’s Mary-Jo?” Vickie said.

“Worried,” Dalk said, slipping his phone into
his shirt pocket. “She’s not going home--instead she’s driving over
to the hospital to talk with Dr. Lerner--I advised her against it,
but she insisted. I fear she’ll be arrested if she identifies
herself with our abduction efforts, but she wants to try and
negotiate something with the Medical Center so we won’t all go to
prison for the rest of our lives.”

She’d caught up with her brother, who’d
wandered a dozen yards or so down the stream bank to a spot where,
in times past, somebody’d had a house and garden, of which still
remained half a brick fireplace covered in a thick tangle of
climbing roses.

“I bet a hundred years ago this was a great
place to have a home,” Dalk said.

“I guess we both know Mulroney isn’t going to
make it,” Vickie said.

“Where’s your faith?” Dalk said.

“I realized the truth when I saw your sensei
pull out a baggie full of rats,” she said.

“Never reject a possibility because you don’t
agree with the method used to obtain it,” he said.

They both sniffed the air at once, their
nostrils assailed by the smell of burning hair.

“He’s foil-roasting them over the fire,” Dalk
said. “He thinks if he cooks them properly, the evil fox spirit
will come out of Mulroney to feast on them.”

“It’ll never work,” Vickie said.

“Maybe it will,” Dalk said. “In Japan, they
do this kind of thing all the time. After it’s over, they write out
the testimony of the healing and pass it around. I’ve read some
amazing testimonies.”

“I should go in there and stop it,” Vickie
said. “He’s stripping Mulroney of the last of his dignity.”

“Toyama deserves his chance,” Dalk said.
“He’s sacrificing more than any of us today to be here. We’ve taken
steps that’ll undoubtedly incur a police investigation--when that
happens, I’m afraid we’ve seen the last of my sensei.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you ever wonder why Toyama came to L.A.
with me?” Dalk said. “Why he’s been willing to live in the back
room of a dingy commercial storefront dojo in Panorama City for all
these years?”

“I thought he had to because he’s got no head
for business,” Vickie said.

“Toyama's an outlaw,” Dalk said. “He’s wanted
by the Japanese police. That’s why we left Japan--he killed a
guy--the guy was somebody important. When the PD checks us out for
kidnapping Mulroney and evading the CHP, Toyama will be sent back
to Japan to face a kangaroo court--he’ll spend the rest of his life
in a Japanese prison.”

“I’m sorry,” Vickie said. “I had no idea. Why
did he kill the man?”

“Toyama was asked to perform a ceremony for a
politician’s sick wife. He got there too late, the wife had already
died, and the politician’s son pulled a knife on him.
Unfortunately, Toyama hit him in the mouth a little too hard and
the guy croaked. Toyama can’t forgive himself for not exercising
more control.”

“He acted in self-defense,” Vickie said.

“He killed a politician’s first-born son,”
Dalk said. “In a case like that, there is no defense. He tried to
repay his debt to the family by turning over all the money he’d
made over the years, but the father wanted blood repaid with blood.
He was going to let them arrest him until I convinced him to get
out. He’s been living in a self-imposed exile and poverty ever
since, trying to purify himself--what makes it worse is, his magic
left him when he killed the guy--until his magic returns, he’ll
never be free of his guilt.”

“I feel like a fool,” Vickie said. “I’m
ashamed of the way I’ve made fun of him all these years.”

“He came with us today to help Mulroney
because you’re my sister--he’s risking his future to help
you--that’s why you shouldn’t interrupt him. If Mulroney revives,
Toyama will be set free.”

“The poor little man--he’s in there right
now,” Vickie said, “roasting his mice and waving his golden amulets
over Mulroney’s body.”

“If Mulroney expires,” Dalk said, “Toyama
will take on all the guilt for it--he’ll probably commit
suicide--it’ll be the only way he can expunge the guilt
honorably.”

“If Mulroney dies, we may all be brought up
on murder charges,” Vickie said. “I’m beginning to think we better
take Mulroney back to the Medical Center before it’s too late. This
whole thing is starting to make me ill.”

“We better go back to the cave,” Dalk said.
“It’s getting dark, and the rain is kicking up again.”

“I’d forgotten how quickly it gets dark in
these canyons,” Vickie said. “But let’s stay out here another
minute or so--I want Toyama to get his full measure.”

“If you’re serious about taking Mulroney out
of here,” Dalk said, “I’m going to have to call somebody in to
rescue us. Getting Mulroney down the hill was one thing, but I
don’t think I’m strong enough to carry him back up--it’s too dark
to see and this rain will make the trail way too slippery.”

“I’ve ruined everybody’s life,” Vickie said.
“You, Mary-Jo, Toyama, and even Kilkenney’s--and I was only trying
to save my husband. I’m cursed, and everybody around me is cursed.
I experienced a healing, and I thought if I could spare Mulroney
the rigors of surgery, I could bring him back--now I’m feeling like
a first class fool. I climbed high on the tears of the Virgin, and
now I’m falling back to the bottom.”

“We’re in a muddle, all right,” Dalk said.
“But nobody’s to blame--especially not you--we were all in a
hothouse of emotion over this thing. We acted rashly, foolishly.
But our intentions were noble--sometimes you have to stand up for
what you believe.”

“We thought we were running towards the
answer, but in reality, we were running away from the problem,”
Vickie said. “Dalk--make the call--get us out of here. We’ll hide
Toyama someplace before they get here.”

They were interrupted by the grinding,
whup-whup-whup-whup-whup of a helicopter’s rotor blades.

“It’s too late,” Dalk said. “The police are
here. Let’s go wait inside the cave. I want to have my back against
something when they send down the dogs.”

“Dalk,” Vickie said. “Wait.”

“We can’t wait,” he said. “We’ve got to get
some protection or we’re going to get bitten all to
smithereens.”

“Dalk,” Vickie said. “My cancer is back.”

“What?” he said.

“It’s back,” she whispered. “Help me
Dalk--the pain is so great. Help me. I can’t feel my legs...”

His quick movement saved her from tumbling,
unconscious from the pain, into the stream. Somewhere above him,
interspersed with the din of the Air Support unit, he could hear a
dog barking. Scooping her up, he walked carefully back to the
safety of the cave. Although he felt the pressure of the police
presence on the mountain, he didn’t run--the world at the bottom of
the canyon had grown much too dark for that.

Chapter 38

“It’s the Spiral Nebulae,” the lady said.

“I’ve never seen anything so glorious,”
Vickie said.

She was on the infinite grassy plain standing
next to the lady beneath a vibrant night sky, the focused energy of
the whole projecting, by degrees, an increasing awareness within
her, an awareness which churned faster and faster until she thought
she would explode upwardly into the Nebulae itself, her glorious
absorption by it compellingly irresistible.

“It’s a different time horizon,” the lady
said. “It exists in the future to keep you from being overwhelmed
by your present events. If you look closely, you can see your
future self in it.”

“I can see myself in the future,” Vickie
said. “Not as I am now--but as I wish to be.” She turned to her
benefactress. “My Lady,” she said, “you’re bleeding from your
hands.”

“The Stigmata of Saint Francis,” the Lady
said. “My hands weep his blood for you--the blood which will draw
you forward to the well of compassion.”

“I was healed and now I’m not, and my husband
is dying,” Vickie said. “Your tears didn’t work.”

“His life will be spared by your prayers and
your compassion,” the Lady answered. “Those are the true tears of
the faithful.”

“I don’t understand,” Vickie said.

The Lady touched her with the stigmata of St.
Francis and stepped back, dissolving the infinite plain with a
roar. Vickie opened her eyes. She was back in the cave, the rushing
water pounding in her ears. Pain like she’d never before known
raged deep within her. Dalk and Toyama sat beside her. Mulroney’s
body was stretched by the fire, his bare legs and chest exposed, a
roasted rat on each thigh and one on his chest, the smoking
carcasses bound by golden amulets. Two brightly colored feathers
protruded from between the toes of his right foot.

“Help me!” she cried.

“Hang on, Sis,” Dalk said. “The cops’ll be
here soon. I can’t give you anything for your pain. If the pain is
too great to bear, Toyama can put you to sleep.”

“No,” she said. “I’ve got to stay conscious.
I understand the truth now. I received the touch of St. Francis.
It’s important. Move me closer to Mulroney, and get me my
rosary.”

“Toyama,” Dalk said. “Move your rats.”

“No,” Vickie said. “Leave them--they belong
there.”

They positioned her with her head on the
great man’s chest next to the roasted rat and put the plastic
rosary in her hand. Carefully, she placed the crucifix next to the
rat on Mulroney’s chest, over his heart.

“Forgive me, Mulroney,” she said. “I’ve been
selfish. My desire to think only of myself has put you in great
harm. When I found out I was dying, I thought only of myself. I
never even considered what you might be going through. I took your
money and your hand in marriage and when you collapsed I was
angry--angry at you for taking something away from me. My tears
have never been for you--they’ve been only for myself. Mulroney, I
am heartily sorry for having offended you by my selfishness, and I
ask you to forgive me.”

Vickie began to weep, the tears flowing from
the river of pain running through her, dripping from her face onto
Mulroney’s chest. The tears dripped over the crucifix, dissolving
the bloody tear of the Virgin, creating a water and blood rivulet
which crossed over his heart.

“Oh God,” she said. “Give me the compassion I
need. Give Mulroney back his life. Take me--not him.”

A blinding light suddenly filled the cave,
pouring in from the world outside, fracturing through the waterfall
into a thousand colors, transforming the air around them into a
heavenly glory.

The helicopter searchlight. Directed to the
spot by the cops and dogs outside the cave. A loudspeaker blared
above the roar of the waterfall, above the barking of adrenalized
dogs, close and eager to charge.

“This is the police,” the echoey voice said.
“Come out slowly from the cave. I repeat. Come out slowly from the
cave, one at a time, with your hands showing. If you do not come
out, we will send in the dogs. I repeat. If you do not come out, we
will send in the dogs.”

Dalk removed the revolver from his belt and
pointed it toward the mouth of the cave.

“No dog is going to bite my ass,” he
said.

A dark, quick movement entered the cave--the
hurtling body of an animal.

Dalk fired reflexively--and missed--not a
dog--Kilkenney--flushed from hiding by the presence of the dogs,
seeking the safety of the cave, his giant body streaking towards
Mulroney, landing on his thighs, hysterical from the dogs outside
and the gunfire inside, releasing his adrenaline by raising up on
his hind legs and tearing into a roasted rat.

A pair of massive, bristling German Shepherds
entered the cave in answer to the gunshot. Dalk fell atop Vickie,
shielding her. The beasts lunged towards them, fangs spread wide.
Kilkenney stood up tall to greet the first dog, the foil-roasted
rat falling from his mouth, his paws the size of a man’s hands
open, with wicked claws extended--a cornered mini-lion, with no way
out, his sincere ferocity giving the first canine pause, and in
that pause Kilkenney made his move, with devastating results,
sending the dog hurtling back through the falls with thirty pounds
of terror ripping up his face.

“Oooos!” Toyama yelled, closing with the
second dog. The beast rose confidently to the attack, and in that
nanosecond of overconfidence failed to avoid the little sensei’s
lightning-fast hammer blow to the ribs, knocking the big dog into
the air, the bodies of man and dazed beast coming together like two
minor deities in malevolent contention, the beast’s flashing teeth
sparkling in the blinding white light from the searchlight as the
two rotated across the floor of the cave towards the falls in a
surreal ballet, their outburst carrying them, finally, through the
curtain of shining waters and into the streambed outside.