"Mutt, I hate to say it, but you don't sound like you know s.h.i.t what you're doing."

"I need to find out where to go, that's all."

Jesus Christ. Johnny took another sip of his drink. "I'll tell you what, you get hold of a car and come by the MGM Grand-you know where it's at?"

Mutt squinted, like he was trying to picture the place.

"The gambling casino, Mutt, you can't f.u.c.kin miss it, over by the Lodge freeway? That'll be your test, to find it. You pull up to the main entrance there at half past seven with five grand in your hand, slide over, you got yourself a driver."

"I'll be there," the Mutt said.

The guy was an idiot, but so what? He'd have the five or he wouldn't.

Randy looked up from his desk to see the Mutt back again, the Mutt saying he forgot to mention he was supposed to get half the money down on the contract and could he have it now. But not sounding convinced that he should, still hat in hand.

"You want to make sure you're paid," Randy said. "I can understand that, but you're a little late for it to do you any good today."

"Why's that?"

"The banks are closed. You won't be able to deposit the check until tomorrow anyway. Why not wait and get the full amount, twenty five big ones paid to the order of Searcy J. Bragg, Jr."

"I also forgot to tell you," the Mutt said, "I want it in cash, twelve thousand and five hunnert dollars."

"Well, now, that's not possible."

"Cash, or no deal."

Randy stood up and pulled the pockets out of his pants. He saw the Mutt grin and told him, "You have me at a disadvantage. Where'm I supposed to get it if the banks close at four?"

"You lock your door," the Mutt said, "it's a woman or it's money business."

"And what's that, a Hoosierism?"

"Heidi or some woman's in here with you or you're getting money out of the secret place you keep it. You pay my wages in cash, you pay Mr. Moraco his end in cash, and you said when you gimme the job, you said cash or check."

Yes, he did say that; but Randy's plan from the beginning was to give the Mutt a check and stop payment on it as soon as the Mutt took off. Since it was hardly something he could explain, Randy said, "All right, I'll give you your check."

"I want cash."

"I can write you a check, Mutt, for the entire amount, right now."

"Cash or no deal."

Randy took his time. "Has Vincent paid you?"

"For the priest? Tonight he's gonna."

"How much?"

"I told you before, twenty-five."

"Really? I know you said he's getting you a gun-"

"You don't believe me," the Mutt said, "call him up. Pay me first, it'll be the last time you ever hear his voice. And never again have to watch him eat."

It gave Randy a picture of Vincent Moraco, a dinner napkin tucked in his collar, head lowered over his free lunch, and it was enough to get Randy to change his mind, stop his quibbling. He said to the Mutt, "You're right, you're doing me an enormous favor and should have your money whatever way you want it. I have to confess, Mutt, at times I tend to lose sight of main objectives and become n.i.g.g.ardly over details."

The Mutt said, "You do?"

The machete was still in the kitchen, where Johnny had been playing with it.

Mary Pat asked Terry why he'd brought it home and he told her it was a reminder. She said she wouldn't think he would have to be reminded of an experience so horrifying, all those poor people murdered. He said he found the machete in the church, the place where it was used, and it brought back to him parts of the scene in detail that were like-what do you call it- tableaux, hideous moments caught in stop-motion, silent, without the screams, the din of voices. She didn't ask about the details, so he kept them to himself. He told the little girls the knife was used to cut sugarcane and hack stalks of bananas from the trees.

And he'd left the canvas bag of photos in the kitchen.

When they were ready to look at the pictures he placed them on the butcher-block table, displaying all of them except a stack bound with green rubber bands he dropped back in the bag. The girls climbed up on stools to have a look, got interested, knelt on the stools to get closer, over the photos, and began asking questions. What's he doing? Looking for sc.r.a.ps of charcoal so he can sell it or make a fire. Why? So he can have something to eat, roast an ear of corn. Why doesn't his mom do it? He doesn't have a mom, he's an orphan. What's an orphan? You know, Mom told us. I forget what one is. A kid who doesn't have a mom or dad. They let him play with fire? He's not playing, he knows what he's doing. Rwanda, you grow up in a hurry or you don't make it. The ones here're at the orphanage, playing some kind of game. What's he doing? That's a girl. How do you know? She's wearing a dress. It doesn't look like a dress. How come they don't have any hair? They shave it off so they won't get, like, bugs in their hair. What kind of bugs? Any kind, Africa, I never saw so many bugs in my life. On the wall, they look like wallpaper designs moving. He looked over at Mary Pat, at the sink rinsing lettuce. What's he doing? That's a garbage dump and he's looking for food, anything he can eat, even if it's, well, a little rotten. Won't he get sick? Probably, if not from that from something else. Why doesn't he go to the store? He's poor, he doesn't have any money. Why doesn't his mom go? He doesn't have one. I explained that, these kids're orphans. Why? I just told you, they don't have parents. Why not? Oh. The parents died, so most of the kids don't have a place to live. Mom said that's why you came home, to get money from people for the little orphans.

He looked over at Mary Pat again, Mary Pat looking back at him this time. She said, "Why don't one of you girls get the atlas? Show Uncle Terry where he lives?"

Katy wanted to get it so they let her, and while they were waiting the phone rang, the one on the wall by the sink. Mary Pat got it and turned to Terry.

"Your fund-raising partner."

"What're you doing?"

"Showing my pictures to the girls."

"Does Mary Pat know?"

"Everything. I mean every thing."

"What'd she say? ...Oh, you can't talk, can you? Listen, Ed Bernacki called, we're going to see Tony. And guess where?"

"I don't know."

"His house. You remember Ed told me no one gets in his house except family and goombas? We're going to his house. Oh, and you're being picked up."

"You're coming by? When?"

"No, they're sending a car for you, seven-thirty."

"Why?"

"Ed says we're seeing him, I don't ask questions."

"Are you being picked up?"

"Yes, we both are."

"Then why don't we go together?"

"Maybe we are, but the way Ed said it, it sounded like we're being picked up separately."

"Why can't you get picked up and then you come over and pick me up?"

"Maybe that's what'll happen."

"Can you check with Ed, tell him we want to go together?"

"What're you worried about, you nitwit, he's giving us the money."

The girls, head-to-head over the atlas open on the counter, were looking for Rwanda, Katy saying, "Mom showed us where it is." Jane saying, "It's hard to find. It's suppose to be right here...somewhere."

"It's hard to find," Terry said, "even when you know where it is. You see Lake Victoria? Rwanda's a half inch or so to the left. The one that's mostly green, and it is, the whole country's like a big vegetable garden."

"Aren't there any wild animals?"

"There isn't room for them, it's almost all farmland, except here in this corner where the gorillas live, up in the mountains."

"We saw gorillas in a movie. A lady was talking to them. She said you have to be real quiet or the gorillas get mad, like they think you might hurt them."

"That's the way gorillas are," Terry said, "you have to be careful around them." He looked up to see Mary Pat on the other side of the table, watching him. He said to her, "We're meeting our benefactor later on this evening. Anthony Amilia. You know who he is?"

She hesitated before saying, "Of course I do," turned to the sink again to gather the lettuce in a dishtowel and carry it to the refrigerator. When she looked at him again, all she said was, "Does Fran know?"

"He left, I haven't had a chance to talk to him."

"Will you call him?"

"If you want me to. I was hoping he'd be home before I left."

"Terry, Fran and I don't keep secrets from one another. I called him after we talked this morning."

"You ratted me out, huh?" She didn't smile and he said, "You know I would've told him the whole story. The only reason I haven't, Fran was still talking to the prosecutor about me, even after I got home. I felt he couldn't in conscience do that unless he believed I was a priest."

She said, "Being deceitful doesn't bother you?"

"Not too much, no. You think I should've gone to prison instead of Rwanda?"

"I have no idea," Mary Pat said, "what you did in Rwanda, besides take pictures of kids."

"I thought I did okay," Terry said, "considering. I said Ma.s.s once in a while, always Christmas and Easter. I heard Confession every week. I asked my housekeeper one time if she thought I was doing any good. She said I could do better."

For a moment there Mary Pat looked as though she might be in shock, speechless. He knew, though, it wouldn't last.

He said, "Things aren't always what they seem, are they?"

24.

THE MUTT WAS LATE PICKING up Johnny. Seven-fifteen, when he stepped out the front entrance of Randy's, was a busy time, parking attendants in their red jackets jumping in cars to gun 'em out of there. The Mutt said to one of 'em, "Hey, boy, bring Mr. Agley's Caddy you come back, hear?" s.h.i.t, it must've taken him fifteen minutes, pulled up in the car and the Mutt said, "What's wrong with you, taking so long?" This Tootsie Roll sa.s.sed him, saying, "I couldn't find it, boy." And the Mutt remembered Randy telling him one time to quit calling the parking attendants "boy," saying, "Colored guys don't like it, they hear it as a term of disrespect. You didn't call 'em 'boy' in prison, did you?" The Mutt said he didn't call 'em nothing, as he never had a reason to speak to any of 'em. Then, to make it worse, he couldn't locate the entrance to the G.o.dd.a.m.n MGM Grand gambling casino on the first pa.s.s and had to go around again, the freeway right there messing him up. He thought Johnny would be sore 'cause he was late. Uh-unh . . .

Getting in the car as the Mutt slid over, Johnny said the only thing he needed to know, "You got it?"

The Mutt handed him a fat wad of bills and Johnny had to face the fact the guy was serious, there was a hit going down and he was driving the f.u.c.kin car. Johnny took time to open the wad and riffle one end. All hundreds. He said, "Well, all right," to get himself with it, show the Mutt he was cool. "What time you got?"

The Mutt had to work his watch out of the sleeves of his leather coat and his bodyshirt. He held it close to the Cadillac instrument panel, in front of the digital clock, and said, "A quarter of."

They were moving now, making their way through the west side of downtown, Johnny thinking, Lafayette or Fort Street over to Wood-ward, hang a right to Jefferson . . . He said, "Where'd you get the Caddy? Man, it's still got that new-car smell in it."

"It's Randy's."

"Jesus Christ-he know you took it?"

"I asked was he going anywheres, he said no."

"You realize if somebody at the scene, anybody, a witness, spots the license plate the cops'll trace it back to him?"

"I was Randy I'd say the car was stolen."

"What if they trace it to you?"

"I'd tell 'em Randy don't allow me to drive the car. Anybody says I took it's a liar, wanting to get me 'cause they say I disrespect 'em calling 'em 'boy.' "

"The f.u.c.k're you talking about?"

"It don't matter."

Johnny said, "Lemme guess. Randy's the one gave you the contract."

"That's right."

"But has no idea you took his car."

"What he don't know won't hurt him, will it?"

"Randy get you the gun?"

"The one I'm gonna use? I don't have it yet."

It got Johnny agitated again and he had to stay cool. "What're you talking about? We have to stop and pick it up?"