The Hearing (34 page)

Carl said, “Funny, right? You like justice, Rubi?”

“It makes no difference. I’m not gonna get it anyway.”

“Oh yeah you are. For sure you are. Probably you’re gonna get it right here, cuffed to that tree.”

“And who’s gonna give me justice? You?”

“Blown up, or shot by your friends in the windows over there, you’ll get justice.”

“That’s what you think. You’re not gonna give me justice, no matter what you think.”

“That’s for sure. God’s gonna give it to you. You are so
dumb
, you know that? You’re gonna get stubborn and you’re gonna show off how brave you are and how stupid I am and you’re gonna
just sit there and let yourself get blown up and then you’re going to hell and stay there for the rest of forever. Didn’t
your mother ever tell you that, tell you about hell?”

“Don’t talk about my mother.”

“You don’t like to hear what she said? You don’t respect her? You think she was stupid? You think that, don’t you, Rubi? Your
mother was just some stupid old bag, right?”

“I don’t think that.”

“She was smarter than those guys in the window. They’re over there arguing should they shoot you or not, and you’ve got more
respect for them than for your mother. You’re really stupid, Rubi.”

“You’re an idiot. You listened to that preacher too much. You’re brainwashed.”

“My brain’s washed in better stuff than the filth you washed yours in.”

“Get me outta these cuffs.”

“You telling me it’s time to go?”

“I’m not telling you anything. You want to die, sit there and die.”

“We’re going together, Rubi. Thing is, I know where I’m going and you don’t.”

“You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

“I don’t, but I know someone who does.”

“Jesus.”

“You swearing? Or you telling me you know what I’m talking about?”

“You sound like my mother.”

“If I’d been your mother I’d’ve drowned you.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Tell me what time the bomb’s going, I’ll leave you alone. You think I like not leaving you alone? Rubi, as someone to leave
alone, you’re number one on my list. People who blow up judges—for you that’s just a job, right? Same’s putting bombs in school
buses.”

Aguilera sighed again and twisted his body to put his back to Carl.

Carl said, “That judge in there has spent his whole life protecting scumbags like you, make sure nobody hands you a wrong
one. Heaven forbid you should do time for the wrong killing. That right, Rubi?”

Aguilera, his back to Carl, was silent.

Carl, sitting on the grass two feet behind Aguilera, shot out a foot, sudden as a snake’s tongue, and kicked Aguilera in the
back of the neck.

Aguilera winced and let out a cry.

“Answer me when I talk to you, asshole.”

“Don’t kick me.”

“I’ll kick you to
death
is what I’ll do.”

“Why are you asking all this?”

“I’m interested in you. I never met someone before likes to blow people up. After tonight I might never have another chance
to talk to someone like you.”

“After the Mercedes blows up you won’t have a chance to talk to anyone.”

“I’ll be in heaven, talk all I want.”

“Heaven!” Aguilera shook his head and snorted.

Carl said, “You believe in marriage, having kids, blowing people up, what else? What do you believe in, Rubi? Money, for sure.
Career opportunities? Who’s gonna get the big job? You really love your wife, or you just screw her and have kids?”

Helen couldn’t see Aguilera’s face, but she saw the muscles tighten on the sides of his cheeks.

Carl said, “You want another kick in the head?”

“I love my wife. And my children.”

“Good start. You’re not all bad. Maybe there’s hope. You ever beat your wife, the kids?”

“Why are you asking me all these dumb questions?”

“Gotta talk about something. You tell me the time, we’ll stop. You ever beat your wife?”

Aguilera took a deep breath. Helen knew he was weighing the indignity of answering Carl’s questions against the pain of another
kick in the head.

“I do not beat my wife.”

“Tell me something, Rubi. I mean, seriously. I really want to know. No disrespect intended. How can a man with three kids
of his own blow up a school bus?”

“I never blew up a school bus.”

“September, nineteen ninety-two, Calle Bolivar, San Isidro, four kids died. An accomplice, worked over by FARC, gave your
name. The bomb had the same characteristics—RDX, remote antenna, electronic detonator—as the one in that Mercedes.”

“You know everything.”

“Answer my question. How do you do it?”

“It’s my job.”

“Oh, it’s gotta be more complicated than that, Rubi.

Who d’you hate? You gotta hate someone a lot to do that. Would you agree? Have I got it wrong?”

“Hate has nothing to do with it.”

“You’re just an evil bastard, and that’s all there is to it, you telling me that?”

“What’s evil?”

“You tell me. You’re an expert. The devil’s friend, remember?”

Aguilera sighed.

“You want another kick in the head?”

“I don’t know what evil is.”

“You know what good is?”

“I don’t know that either. Why don’t you stop asking questions? Marriage. Kids. Evil. Good. That’s all idiots like you ever
think about.”

“What do geniuses like you think about?”

“How come you do all the talking? Your partner doesn’t have anything to say?”

“Do you have anything you’d like to add to this, Helen?”

Before Helen could answer, Carl’s eye caught a sudden movement on Blossom’s darkened front porch.

Not wanting to alert Aguilera, Carl concealed his concern, but shifted his position on the grass to give him a better line
of vision to the porch. In a moment, he saw the movement again, and this time he picked out the shape of someone in short
pants and a white T-shirt. He was sure, beyond a doubt, that it was Samantha.

Why was Samantha on the porch? Had something gone wrong in the limousine? Where was Gus? If the bomb went off while she was
on the porch she wouldn’t have a chance.

As the questions rocketed through Carl’s mind, he saw the figure move again—definitely Samantha. She opened the front door,
reentered the house, and closed the door.

What should he do? What if someone in the Trade Commission had seen her? He studied the commission windows and saw movement.
Someone was still there. How could they have missed seeing her? Would they go to the house, try to get in?

Helen and Aguilera stopped talking. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic beyond the security perimeter. From his
position on the lawn, Carl could not keep both Blossom and the Trade Commission in his vision at the same time. He studied
the commission for movement, ranged his eyes across the lawn and the street, and studied Blossom. Everything was still. He
said, “Do you have something to tell me, Rubi?”

“If you mean the time, I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, no one knows.”

Rubi shrugged, but there was an uncertainty in the shrug that hadn’t been there before. He said, “What time is it?”

Carl said, “Why do you care what time it is? If you don’t know anything, why do you care?”

Rubi jerked his head and twisted his upper body.

“Just tell me the time. What’s wrong with telling me the time?”

“It’s getting close, isn’t it, Rubi? You can feel it, right? Tell me, Rubi. It’s not worth dying for.”

Rubi took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and fixed his eyes on Carl.

Carl nodded at him, slowly. “If you tell me right now,
Rubi, I’ll let the sentencing judge know how you saved all our lives. Maybe he’ll give you a deal, knock off a few years.”

From the corner of his eye, barely within his vision, Carl saw something move at the side of Blossom. Carl turned his head
and glued his eyes to the spot. It moved again, toward the back of the house, then stopped, motionless.

Carl glanced quickly at the commission. Someone came halfway into the window and withdrew. He looked back at Blossom. The
figure took slow steps toward the front of the house, staying close to the side of the building.

Which was the bigger threat—the bomb or the man creeping toward the front of Blossom?

Carl stood and said to Helen, “I’ll be right back. You get outta here.”

“Where are you going?”

Aguilera looked sharply from Carl to Helen, back to Carl. It was the first time Carl had seen on Aguilera’s face anything
resembling fear.

Carl said to Helen, “Get out, Go back.”

Aguilera pulled at the cuffs and said, “Where’re you going?”

“Tell me now, Aguilera. What time?”

“Where are you going?”

Carl thought, He’s scared to death—it’s going soon. He looked at his watch. “The time right now is five past one. What time
is it going?”

Rubi’s eyes were black balls of fear.

Carl gave him five seconds, and said to Helen, “Go back. Run.”

Then he walked rapidly across the lawn to the street, crossed to the front of Blossom, and removed the Walther
from his waistband. He heard Aguilera’s panicked voice shouting, “Come back!”

Carl edged through the shadows at the side of Blossom, heading toward the back entrance, searching through the darkness for
the man he’d seen from the lawn.

Gus awoke with a cramp in his back. He’d slept for an hour, knocked out by exhaustion, and was still too tired to think.

“Hi! Have a good nap?”

Samantha. Thirteen-year-olds were never tired.

“Well, a nap, anyway.”

She said, “I have something to tell you.”

Attempted rape and homicide—could there be more?

“Promise you won’t be mad.”

“I won’t be mad.”
No more, no more.

“When you were sleeping I had to go to the bathroom, and while I was out of the car I took a walk—”

A walk
. His head snapped around to look at her. Was she joking?

“—and I saw some people outside.”

“People?”

“Yeah. Three people on the lawn.”

“Where?”

“Across the street.”

“Where were you?”

“On the porch.”

The porch!

“What were you doing on the porch?”

“I just went out to get some air.”

He couldn’t believe it. To get some air. Just like that.

“Did they see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What were they doing?”

“Just sitting there.”

“And then you came back inside, and they didn’t see you?”

“Yeah, right. You’re mad, aren’t you?”

“No, Samantha, I’m not mad, but you shouldn’t have done that. If the bomb had gone off while you were out there it would have
been very, very bad.”

“I saw the station wagon and—”

“You went up to the Mercedes?”

“Of
course
not. You think I’m crazy? I just looked at it from the porch.”

Was this real? Who had she seen?

Gus said, “Wait here. Don’t move.”

“Where are you going?”

“Samantha, I mean it. Don’t leave this car.”

“I won’t. Are you going outside?”

“Don’t even open the door.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

He left the garage and hurried to the back vestibule off the kitchen. He wanted to know who those people were on the lawn,
but he did not want to show himself at the front of the house. If someone had seen Samantha, they might be watching the porch.

He cracked open the back door and slipped out into the darkness. Standing in the narrow corridor between the house and a row
of hedges, he heard a distant siren. Through the hedges, across the street, he could see the outline of the Colombian Trade
Commission’s roof. He could not see the front lawn where Samantha had said the three people were sitting.

He moved slowly toward the front of the house. When
he could make out the lawn across the street, he saw the people, two dim figures crouching in the shadows next to a tree.
Samantha had said three. Maybe she’d made a mistake. Or maybe the third was hidden behind the tree. It didn’t matter. He decided
to return to the limo and call Carl at the command truck.

He was halfway back to the kitchen door when he heard a noise ahead of him and dropped silently to the ground. He lay still,
holding his breath, his face pushed to the dirt. When he raised his eyes, he saw the dark outline of a man pressed against
the wall, inching his way toward the back of the house.

Gus had left the back door unlocked. All the man had to do was walk into the house, go to the garage, and that would be the
end of Samantha.

He thought of the Uzis in the cabinet next to the board where he’d found the door key, and wished he’d had the sense to bring
one with him. Certainly the man himself would be armed. Gus would have to tackle him and hope for the best. He had the advantage
of surprise, and no matter what happened—even if he died doing it—he had to keep the man away from Samantha.

The man continued slowly along the wall toward the back corner by the kitchen. Gus bolted, sacrificing silence for speed.
He’d try to hit the man hard from behind, grab his throat, drive his fingers into the windpipe, hang on as they fell, choke
the breath out of him until there was no more struggle.

Gus was six feet away, moving with increasing speed and noise, when the man wheeled in the darkness and raised an arm. In
the exploding flash from the muzzle of a pistol, Gus caught the image of Carl’s face.