Flood - Andrew H. Vachss [81]
“You’d never find the place, never get through the mountains. You’d never get in the door if you did.”
“It’s not my place, right?”
“I’m an American.”
“This isn’t America out there, you dummy. This is a running sore loaded with dangerous maggots. And you don’t have a passport, don’t speak the language, don’t know the customs. You’re a permanent foreigner in the world Wilson lives in. You couldn’t find a cop, much less a freak like Wilson. And you probably couldn’t tell the difference if you did.”
“I found you.”
“And you came to me because whoever sent you to me told you I was the man to find a missing maggot. And if we hadn’t worked something out, you’d be dog food by now.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“I surely fucking know you’re not afraid. So what? I’m afraid all the time, but I can find him and you can’t. It’s that simple. You blunder around trying to find him and he’ll spook and run.”
“He has to stay on this planet.”
“You know what I think? I think maybe you don’t want to really find this freak after all—I think you’re full of crap. You like the chase, right? Your bullshit honor and all that. You talk tough but you make so much noise I think you want the freak to run. You’re a phony, Flood. This isn’t for Sadie and Flower, it’s just for your bullshit Japanese ego games. You don’t give a flying fuck for your friend at all, you—”
Flood backhanded me across the mouth so fast I only saw the flash of her robe. I tried to roll with it, turned a somersault, landed on my knees with my hands crossed in front of my face. Flood was just a blur—I felt her foot crack against the side of my head and I slammed into the wall and bounced off, clawing for my gun. But Flood wasn’t on the attack anymore—she just stood there looking at me.
“You don’t understand,” she said, not even breathing hard.
I didn’t say anything.
“Burke . . .”
I didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry. Sadie is my friend. Maybe I should have stayed in the temple. He won’t fight, will he? Will he, Burke?”
“Flood, he’ll run if he can, or he’ll kill you if he can. But fight?” I shrugged.
She came over to me then, sitting down and reaching for my face. I put up my hand to block her but she slapped it away like it was made of feathers. Taking my face in her hand, she turned it back and forth. It felt like pulp to me.
“You’re going to need some stitches.”
“Lucky for you I’m a gentleman, Flood, or I’d kick your ass all over this room.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, without a trace of a smile or sarcasm.
“I know where I can get this fixed up. Then I have to see some people, get some things, and we’ll go and see this Goldor.”
“Can I keep the picture where it is?”
“How tight is this place? Would other people come into your room when you weren’t around?”
“The people here are from my temple. It’s not permitted to look at another person’s altar.”
“But might they do it?”
“No. There’s no chance. Honor counts for everything. All the people here have been together in the temple for many years. I’m the youngest one here.”
“I’m sorry I said that about you.”
“No, you’re not. I understand—you have to stay here after I’m gone. It’s all right. I know you love me.”
“Flood! I never said I loved you. You don’t—”
“Shut up, Burke—you’re not so smart. Not so tough, either. But you didn’t show bad form when you did that first tumble. Did you ever study?”
“My brother is a master. He’s been trying to teach me for years but he says I’ll never be any good. I think that’s true. My mind’s not right for it—every time I hit the ground I’m looking around for some blunt object to use instead of my hands.”
“Your brother is really a master?”
“Yes.”
“You understand what that means, Burke? He’s as good as me?”
“He’s better, Flood. I mean it. No contest.”
“I’m sure he’s stronger—but faster?”
“Believe me—I don’t demean you, but there’s no one better.”
“Then he’s not American.”
“No.”
“Japanese? What style does he fight? Does he—”
“He’s from Tibet.”
“Tibet. I heard stories . . . more like legends. From our temple. A man who studied with our old master many years ago but he wouldn’t