Saboteur: A Novel (23 page)

XV

Downy could feel a warm breeze against his face as he
awakened. There was soft music off in the distance and pillows surrounded him
on every side. Someone was playing a lyre maybe a harp? Lying sideways he could
see a man talking with two girls at the door. There were beautiful paintings
and colored tile all along the wall and he could hear the sound of fountains
gently flowing outside. He closed his eyes and listened. It reminded him of
summers with Charlie’s family at the beach house in Santa Barbara. He thought
of Samara, just a little girl, smiling as she scurried around to get him
anything she could, just to be near him. Or maybe he was in heaven, dead. He’d
fallen hadn’t he?

“Welcome to my villa, Noah. I hope
you have slept well.”

His eyes fluttered open and he
could see Taro standing over him. He was wearing a white shirt now, open and
loose at the chest and a pair of knee length pants. The distinctive scar across
his neckline was much longer than he had noticed before. A belt hung loosely
off his waist. The clothing looked distinctly Greek, but like stage clothing.

“Where are we?”

“I call it home, but it’s just a
safe place for us to get some rest and for you to adjust. This is Aurelia and
Julianna. They would love to wake you up with a bit of a rub if you can just
relax.”

The two girls smiled warmly. They
were young, beautiful and wore sheer, flesh colored gowns, one blonde and the
other dark. He tried not to look down, but he could see clearly what was
underneath, just visible between their legs. He couldn’t help but blush. Before
he could answer, the girls were on top of him in the mounds of pillows.

“We take it from here” they said
with a laugh and he closed his eyes again.

“I want to give you my side of the
story before we return, ok Noah?”

The girls laughed gently as their
hands ran wildly all over him.

“Remember girls this is a married
man, so not too aggressive, ok?” Taro’s voice disappeared into the music and
fountains as he left the room.

“Ok,” they said laughing and
waving.

He closed his eyes again. The girls
began to sing softly as they worked, but in a foreign tongue, something like
Italian but somehow more beautiful.

“What is this dialect,” he said
turning his head?

The dark one spoke.

“Roma, I think you say. He taught
us some Angelish, just enough,” the girl said pinching her fingers together.
“Shhh now relax, he will ‘splain everything to you in time, we are here to
pleaser you.”

Yes,
pleaser me
, he thought,
Why not?
Nothing made any sense anyway and he was tired of fighting against it all. He
considered the night before and the possibility that he was either dead or
hallucinating still. Charlie. He had seen Charlie, but it might have all been a
dream. It was still going on if it was and it was a goddamn long one. He was on
acid He had fallen out of a window, or been pushed and yet he felt no pain. Why
not take the pleaser then?

Far off he could hear laughter floating in from the
courtyard. It sounded like a small party. Taro’s voice was clear above the
others. He sounded like he was directing a play of some sort. That explained
the clothing then.

“No, like this.” Taro clamored:

I
could be well moved if I were as you.
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me.
But I am constant as the Northern Star,
Of whose true fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.

Another, younger voice repeated the
lines hesitantly.

“Better, better--keep at it, ok?”
Taro said encouraging him.

He recognized the words. It was
Shakespeare, but he wasn’t sure from what. He suddenly thought of Charlie.
Charlie believed Taro had killed Samara? But Taro had freed him from jail. Why?
Why had Taro blamed Charlie for Samara’s death and how could he possibly hope
to convince Downy, knowing that he and Charlie were best friends? His mind spun
at the unanswered questions. He almost fell off into sleep again, but awoke
with a start and the girls were now both singing.

He had had a massage or two in his life, but this was
ridiculous. One of girls leaned into his ear whispering as she sang softly. He
could feel her warm breath, which was perfumed, as the second girl reached
underneath him, pulling at the muscles of his thighs. The girl singing into his
ear was straddling him from behind and he could feel her thighs moving
rhythmically against him, the heat from between her legs pressing urgently. He
had to focus on something far away not to become aroused. The cold of his jail
cell all seemed a bad memory now. How could they ever go back he wondered?
Taro’s voice suddenly interrupted.

“Girls, this is a man of both
conviction and honor so you may leave now, unless of course?”

He turned to see Taro who looked at
him inquisitively.

“Maybe next time then.”

The girls flitted away together
without a word and he finally sat up in the bed.

“We can talk on the veranda. Walk
slowly my friend; you’ve just taken the longest trip of your life I can assure
you. The view here really is second to none. It’s why I chose it. A bit like
your place in fact.”

Taro leaned on the edge of the bed
like a good doctor, calm relaxed. “There are clothes there for you,” he said
pointing. “Comfortable I hope. When you’re dressed please come join me
outside.” Taro pointed out across the room.

Through every door was a view
almost impossible to imagine. Immaculately detailed frescoes dotted the
ceilings and walls. He recognized the goddess Diana, her quiver of arrows slung
over her shoulder, wild animals fleeing from her in every direction. The colors
seemed to move across the ceiling and with them the goddess of the hunt. He had
seen other versions of the same scene, but this was the most spectacular. It
ran all the way to the ceiling and wound around the room again in tiny colored
tiles. Light flickered from pools beneath. Where the hell were they? Through
the veranda doors dramatic mountains loomed on the horizon and a perfect, azure
lake ran as far as the eye could see. He remembered Charlie’s warning: “Don’t
trust him.”

He rose unsteadily to his feet and
started to dress. It looked like costume clothing, but the fabrics were too
soft to the touch, clearly not imitations. His mind leapt at the impossible.
Was he traveling in time as Charlie had insisted? Charlie had also said he
wouldn’t be hung over and he was right. His body felt better than it had in
years in fact. There was a tingling in his rib cage, which reminded him of the
night before. The music, the impossible meeting, the drugs all mingling into
one maddening sense of euphoria.

Through another open door he could
see what appeared to be the troupe of young actors practicing their play. On
the veranda, alone, sat Taro.

“It is truly a pleasure to have a
man of your curiosity and learning in my home,” he said rising to greet him as
Downy’s eyes enlarged to take in the whole view. A deep ravine cut between the
steep cliffs, leading hundreds of feet to the ground. “Not bad, is what you say
in America, yeah? Have a seat, please.”

“Can I ask where we are?”

“Oh yes, the ‘no questions rule’ is
officially revoked--by imperial decree.
We
are near Parnassus, two days’ hike from the nearest village.”

“Greece? How?”

“You already know the answer. It is
a matter of some fact you know,” he said leaning in, “here, I am the only
person you can all friend in the whole world. That’s hard on a man’s reason,
his logic. I shall never forget my own reaction to it.” Taro shook his head
then raised a glass of tea for him to take. “Please drink it. It’s really the
best, mildly spiced with fig, dry, but the flavor does something so nice in
your mouth and then just disappears.”

He stared down to the edge of the
Veranda at the forbidding rocks below.
 

“We’re very safe here, don’t
concern yourself. Though, if I push you this time, you’ll really hit the
ground.”

“What is this place?”

“The first Romans are down in that
village there” he said pointing off into the far distance at something glowing,
“still huddled around fires like savages. The smell alone could kill you, but
if it doesn’t, they certainly will.”

He furrowed his brow and lifted his
tea to his mouth, his hands shaking again, as they had the whole of the
previous night. Is this drugged too?”

“Ever so lightly. You can be weaned
down to a very little actually. I once made it three whole days without it at
all, a personal best.”

“Why am I here?”

“I’ve thought so long about how to
begin this conversation. I had it all memorized; now I can’t think of a single
word. You know the general outline of my life, professor. I was a man of
promise and ability, I think. I achieved a certain level of success among men,
in my part of the world at least, unrivaled perhaps. But I was betrayed, and
worst of all I survived it. Not by choice, but rather by accident, by cruel
intervention.”

“Who betrayed you?”

“We can talk about them later, but
it’s your friend, Mr. Patterson, who I must tell you about. You see Charlie,
while he may be your friend and very dear to you, is a thief. That is a fact.
He has stolen extensively from me. Beyond the point of reason or forgiveness,
I’m afraid.”

“What did he steal?”

Taro turned now to look at the
setting sun. Its orange glow reflected like tiny orbs in his dark eyes. A tear
suddenly traced down his cheek.

“He took my future from me.”

Downy had to look away. It pained
him to watch another man cry.

“How did he do that?”

“He stole my things first, personal
things of great value to me, and then he took from me the one thing every
mortal man is owed, the very promise of the gods. I had only wished for it in
fact, the night before, and all the while the men who would deliver it were in
my very midst, toasting to my successes.”

“You promised my freedom and to
find the people responsible for Samara’s death. What does this have to do with
that Taro?”

“I have already delivered on half
of my bargain. You have Samara’s killer. Do to him what justice you see fit.”

“Charlie, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“When you awake in prison tomorrow
you will be a free man as well.”

“How?”

“You’re innocent Noah, as much as
I. Your friend, Charlie, not so. I think you’ll come to see that he is guilty
of destroying many lives. I offer atonement and a return to the natural order
at least. Now, I need you to keep up your end of our bargain as well-- the
laurel. It was a gift from those who weep most for my loss, for my memory. The
detectives who arrested you have it. Once freed you must demand it back.”

“Who are you?”

Taro rose to his feet without
speaking. “They will write about our meeting you know, about this meeting. You
are living history even as we speak, Professor Downy. Tell me how does that
feel?”

He was speechless.
What was he supposed to say?

“If I know Charlie Patterson as I
think I do you will see him again very soon. I would say nothing more to
prejudice you against him. The truth is always acceptable to me. I shall let
you be the judge. When next we meet I promise to tell you everything he won’t.
I’ll answer any questions you wish in fact. My version of history should be
told. I want people to understand me, as you seem to. Your place next time
though ok, in a couple of days. Please have the laurel. I’ll bring a
substantial donation for the university’s loss.”

“So I will just reappear in prison,
poof, like I never left?”

“Yes, you will. There is one final
thing I need to ask of you. The policeman who arrested you, Sullivan, I think
he is called, has a partner by the name of Tackett. He’s been captured by the
Vestals I’m afraid. I can arrange his safe return, but you must never mention
me. If I am judging correctly the police will want your help recovering him.
Agree to their terms and once I have the laurel, he’ll be freed. You won’t have
to involve yourself any further.”

Downy nodded his head silently.
What is it you want that Charlie won’t give you?”

“Just my life back.” Taro drew in a
deep breath. “You and I must depart now, I’m afraid. The pond, as some call it,
is on the ridge just up there,” he said pointing to a jetty of rocky crags
behind them. “Come along, my friend. Time really is of the essence.”

XVI

Sullivan had parked on the cliffs overlooking the ocean
where Tackett had first confided his fears about case 1032 to him. The thought
of sleeping alone in Tackett’s house without him had seemed too weird, like an
acknowledgement that he wasn’t coming back, so he had shacked up in his car yet
again. Another night in the back seat and now it was almost time to head back
to the station to release the professor. He grabbed his phone thinking of Tina.
She was definitely too young, but she did have a certain spirit about her. He
actually liked her rough edges and of course the fact that she was a complete
dynamo in bed was icing on the cake. He punched at his phones keyboard:

Where are you?

I
miss you.

J

He hit send before he could take into consideration that it was
barely 6 am. Oh well, if they were going to date she would have to get used to
crazy hours eventually wouldn’t she.

He had dreamed about the strange
encounter in the bathroom at the station. There had been someone there; he
could feel it, and the pencil, the strange message:

You
aren’t where you think you are.

It was like the story he’d been reading on account of
Tierney’s crack about his poor literary habits. What was it called again?
A Study in Scarlet
? Sherlock Holmes had
had his own cryptic messages to decipher. “RACHE,” in the story, was scrawled
on the wall at the crime scene, which was of course German for revenge. He
reached into the floorboard and picked up the tattered book. Holmes sat in
silhouette against a foggy London street, smoking his famous pipe. He had never
realized the world’s most famous detective had been a cokehead. My god was
everyone in law enforcement a recovering drug addict? He hadn’t touched the
stuff in years thankfully. He was intolerable when he was high anyway, couldn’t
stop talking about himself, pacing from room to room, supremely confident of
everything, capable of nothing. He’d built a thousand buildings, but never
driven a single nail when he was on the powder. It was the only unrealistic
part of the story. Arthur Conan Doyle clearly knew fuck all about drug addicts.

He looked back at his phone. Tina must still be sleeping.
Good. He looked out over the water and wondered where Tackett might be. Was he
still alive? He decided it was time to ruffle some feathers, English feathers.
He found the number for Downy’s agent in London and hit call. It went straight
to voicemail.

“This is Clellon, with Wingate
Publishing. Please leave a message.”

“Yes, it’s Detective Sullivan
calling again. It seems there is a bit of a discrepancy from our earlier
discussion and I was hoping you could clear it up for us. You can call me at
this number…”

It was afternoon in London, so he
would hopefully get the message. Sullivan had a gut feeling he might never hear
back from Mr. Clellon Holmes. Guilty people would only talk to you for so long.
He had clearly lied about talking to Downy the night of his arrest. Sullivan
had checked and according to the cell phone records at least a two-minute call
had
been placed from Downy to his agent.
It suggested that the agent had something to hide. He pulled his car into gear
and headed toward the station. It was time to set an innocent man free and
hopefully get his partner back in the process.

***

Sullivan had to make his way
through a crowd of media to get to the front doors of the station where he saw
Mark sitting at his usual perch at the front desk. He looked tired, but greeted
Sullivan warmly.

“Our man is having his breakfast
and then he’s going to be released I hear?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Looks like the
vultures already got wind of it too.”

He had called them actually, an
anonymous tipster. It was the only way to guarantee enough coverage. He hoped
whoever had Tackett would see it.

“Crazy. I thought for sure--”

“Yeah, so did we. Everything quiet here
last night?”

“Yeah, sure. We did have a power
outage actually, but thankfully all those cells down there are on a backup
generator. They never knew a thing, all accounted for at morning rounds.”

“Ok,” Sullivan said. “Can I get a
transfer to a conference room with Professor Downy? We won’t need an escort,
but I’m hoping to have a sit down. You can do all his paperwork before we go.”

“I’ll enter it here. I think Chief
Tierney is already expecting you two in Room 714.”

“Hey Mark, one more thing: It’s
kind of a favor. Could you send me last night’s surveillance video of the
cameras on this floor, the ones near the bathroom over there?”

“Yeah, uhm, everything ok?”

“Probably nothing, but I saw
something--I can’t--I’d just like to take a look.”

“Any particular window of time or
do you want the whole day?”

“Say from 9 pm to midnight,
basically when I left last night.”

“I’ll email them as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Hey, Downy’s on his way up if you
just want to wait.”

He heard the buzzer door opening in
the corridor and out of it emerged Noah Downy still in the custody of the guard
from the previous night. He whispered something to the guard whose expression
remained stiff, unchanged. He turned for him to remove his cuffs and then gave
him a knowing grin as he walked toward Sullivan. Downy looked incredibly fit
and well for a man just emerging from one of the deepest, darkest holes in the
whole city. He must not have showered either. His face was beet red though and
Sullivan wondered if he was about to lay into him.

“Professor Downy, can I begin with
an apology?” Downy’s expression went hard, but then softened.

“I’m listening.”

“I been doin’ this job for many
years and you’re the first time I got anything so terribly wrong. I hope
someday you can forgive me. It was never personal.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Somehow, I believe you.”

Sullivan reached out a hand for a
shake and Downy accepted it.

“You are absolutely free to go, but
I wanted to tell you that my partner on this case has disappeared, we think in
connection to the murder of your friend. He’s a good man and I would love to
find him. I wonder if you’d entertain the possibility that you might be able to
help us. I know after all that has happ--”

Downy interrupted, “Someone killed
my best friend’s daughter, and if I can help find who is responsible, count me
in.”

“Thank you, thank you. Come this
way, I have a room where we can talk.

“If it’s all the same, after you,
detective.”

Sullivan smiled, “Yes, of course.”