The Upside of Death

Zach interrogated. Part 22

Zach's face ached like beef tenderized with an axe handle. Already the swelling was tightening his skin. The way Keera had looked at him, when he had to decide to shoot or drop his weapon ... tears. The first time he'd seen her tears, ever. Did it mean she'd glimpsed his death? It sure seemed close.

He has to explain this, Longhair had said. How to explain? What to explain? They couldn't know Keera was psychic and it had to stay that way. She was the only edge they had.

They passed along roads empty of traffic and pedestrians. A few driveways suggested homes further back in the darkness. They drove through the Sedona main street, the crowds gone, and began the climb out of the canyon towards Flagstaff.

"In all my time," Longhair said as he lit a cigarette, "I have never had such a situation." He blew the smoke toward the driver's head; the air conditioner whisked it away.

Longhair turned to Zach. "Who do you work for?" he asked.

"I don't work for anyone."

"Bullshit, as you Americans say."

"I'm a journalist."

"Please," Longhair said. "Do not insult me with this shit. My colleagues will tell you that I have much patience. Long after they have lost theirs I keep a calm mind. This is my strength. But now, right now, after today, I've exhausted my most precious asset. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Here's what happens. Every time you don't give me a sensible answer, my large friend will bounce your girlfriend's head off her shoulders. Understood?"

"Yes." The nightmare image of that hand belting Keera across her head came back. In the front seat her shoulders edged higher. He didn't know what was worse, taking the hit or watching Keera take it. Best keep the situation pleasant. "But how will you send another video clip if she's unconscious?"

"We already have a clip," Longhair said. "Or we can work on other, less visible parts of her. No worries there."

Jesus. Fucking animals. He needed to come up with a new plan fast. A plan that started with the two of them not able to communicate or move freely. A good plan wasn't enough. He needed magic: Keera's magic.

"Anybody you target will want better proof than that," Zach said. "To know she's alive and well."

Longhair gave him a hard stare. "Will they ask for a glass again? Why a glass?"

"I needed the sort of proof I'm talking about. I thought of a glass. It's a common household object. What's the problem? Did you run out of glassware, had to drink from the bottle?"

The bald guy rammed an elbow into his ribs. "You keep respectful attitude," he growled.

Zach breathed in and out slowly, letting the pain subside. "It's a fair question," he said. "No need for unwanted physical contact."

Longhair considered his reply for a while. "Possibly it was a coincidence," he said. "Let's go back in time instead. We first discover you exist in Chicago. You come to your girlfriend's home and you go. In between, we assume you make meals, make love and make plans for the future. You are typical boyfriend. Old but flashy car, nice clothes, but keep your own apartment to avoid matrimony."

"It was a mutual agreement," he said. 'We both liked our own space."

"Yes, you arrived every night, around eight p.m. and left near midnight. Not unusual. But then after she is gone, you are very unusual. You find her. Nobody could do this without help. This is the question. What help did you receive?"