Procession of the dead tct-2 Read online

  "I decided to play a game with myself. I made a red mark to the left of each name I knew or could find in the files. Then, every once in a while, I checked the sheets to see if the names still registered with me. Whenever I found one I'd forgotten, I made a red mark to the right of it.

  "You may study the names now."

  I quickly scrolled through the names on the two sheets. There were fifty, maybe sixty in all. The majority had red ticks to the left, including mine and Adrian's, whose names had been added at the end by hand. There were five or six above us, also penciled in.

  "The list is old," he said. "Out of date. I have tried to find a more recent copy but it was moved after I found it and I've never come across it again. I add new names as and when I chance upon Ayuamarcans in my travels."

  Virtually all of the names with a mark to the left also had one to the right. I knew most of the ones which didn't-Leonora Shankar, Conchita Kubekik, Paucar Wami, my own. Ama's name wasn't there and I decided not to ask about it. If he didn't know of her, so much the better.

  "What is this?" I asked. "Who are these people?"

  "Apart from the few unmarked on the right," he said, "I don't know. Their names mean nothing to me. There are the six my journals tell me I killed, and a further five since, but as for the rest…" He shrugged. "I knew them once, according to those marks. Not any longer."

  "What's an Ayuamarcan? You said you recognized me when we met. How?"

  "We share a certain look," he said. "An emptiness. I cannot explain it any better. I have studied so many of these people-though I do not remember most-that I can spot one instantly. I don't know what it means, who these people are or what's different about them, why they keep disappearing both from memory and the physical world. But one day, if I continue searching, I will find out. That's why I was trailing you. I hoped you might lead me somewhere."

  I looked down at the sheets again. "You didn't kill Adrian?"

  "To the best of my knowledge, no."

  "And you've no idea what this might be about?"

  He hesitated. "I know one thing-where the name comes from. Ayuamarca is Incan."

  I remembered The Cardinal and Y Tse speaking of the city's Incan connections. I shifted uneasily and readjusted the position of my legs.

  "It was the name the Incas had for the month of November," Wami explained. "Translated literally it means procession of the dead. Of course our names are Incan too-you are December, the magnificent festival. I am March, a garment of flowers according to the history books."

  "Are all the-," I began.

  "-Names on the list Incan?" he finished, and shook his head. "No. There are a few others-Inti Maimi, Hatun Pocoy-but most are not." I pored over the sheets as though persistent examination would force them to reveal their secrets. Procession of the dead. That sounded bad in any language.

  "Have you ever asked The Cardinal about this?"

  "No," Wami said. "He doesn't appreciate such questions."

  I cocked my head. I thought I'd heard something in his voice, possibly the slightest hint of fear. "But he is involved, isn't he?" I pressed.

  "Nobody else could order such a purge of the files in Party Central, except maybe Ford Tasso, but this isn't Tasso's style."

  "What about our minds?" I asked. "Who purged them?"

  "You have lapses too?"

  "Sort of. I can remember people-like Adrian-but I can't recall my past before coming to this city. I thought it was just amnesia but after hearing you…"

  "You believe it is more." He nodded. "That is my reasoning also. At first it is easier to suspect oneself, but when you notice the flaws in others… There are things beyond us. That is why this file interests me. I have always been captivated by the beyond."

  Beyond…

  "Do you know anything about blind men in robes?" I asked.

  "Who never speak?"

  "What?"

  "They never speak." Wami nodded knowingly. "Not in English. Even when tortured by an expert."

  One had spoken to me but I decided not to mention it. I didn't want him getting jealous.

  "They've been around as long as I can remember," Wami said. "I don't know much about them-how many there are or what they do-but I've run into them from time to time. You think they're connected to this?"

  "Maybe."

  "Interesting."

  I tapped the papers against my knees and handed them back, deciding I'd learned all that I could. "Well, if there's nothing more to add, I might as well be going," I said lightly.

  "Just like that?" He didn't move. "I thought you might like to stay and chat a while longer."

  "What for? You don't know anything, nor do I. Why waste each other's time?"

  "You know where I live," he said softly.

  I stiffened. "Look," I said, "I'm not going to pretend I understand you. I've met a lot of warped fucks in my time, but none who've kept heads in their fridges and Christ alone knows what else in the freezer. I don't know what's inside your head and I don't want to. If you're going to kill me, kill me. But if you have it in your mind to let me live, then I have places to go and things to do."

  He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "You interest me," he said. "You are different. Stranger. There's a light in you I have not seen in the others. I will let you live. I think I have more to gain that way."

  "Thanks," I said drily, and stumbled to the door. I paused and looked back. He hadn't moved a muscle. "I could let you know if I find out anything."

  "You will not track me again this easily," he said. "I will be gone before this hour is out. I have been here-in the city-long enough. It is time to move on. But one day I may look you up if you're still around." He might not have meant it as a threat but it scared the shit out of me all the same.

  He finished his beer, then went for a refill. He opened the fridge and lowered his head to examine something inside. He was smiling and, in the light, the snakes on his cheeks seemed to writhe. I hurried out the door and managed to stop myself from running down the stairs. Just.

  Ama and I roamed the city randomly the rest of the evening. I told her about Wami, his file and memory losses. I mentioned Leonora saying something similar a while back. Like me, she wasn't sure what to make of it. We discussed it over the gentle purr of the scooter but made no real progress. We stopped at a quiet restaurant for dinner in the evening but ate little, our minds elsewhere.

  "We shouldn't go," Ama said. "You've seen Wami's list. You won't learn anything new by seeing the one in Party Central."

  "Wami's was old. I want to see a recent copy."

  "Why?"

  "Maybe I'll recognize some of the newer names."

  "Capac, have you ever… or would you… do you think you could kill a man?" She looked at me.

  "I haven't yet, but yes, I will if I have to." I didn't hesitate with the answer.

  "Could you kill like Wami does? Women? Children?"

  "Of course not. He's insane. I'd kill somebody who got in my way, but a kid? Never." She seemed satisfied with that but I wasn't. Because I wasn't so sure. I'd been appalled by what I saw in Wami's fridge. A part of me had cringed and was cringing still. But another part registered admiration. I didn't like to admit it, but inside, not as deeply buried as I wished, I envied his ferocious feats.

  We booked into a cheap motel and freshened up. I needed a shower. The trip to Wami's had left me a sweating mess. I was pulling off my pants when I became aware of Ama watching me. "What?" I asked, pausing.

  "I never got a good look at you the other night," she said.

  "I don't want you ogling me," I grumbled.

  She laughed merrily. "Modest?"

  I smiled. "I'll take off mine if you take off yours."

  She returned my smile, nodded slyly and unpeeled. We showered together, our hands exploring each other's bodies as they had that night in Party Central. Only this time we went slowly, fingers creeping along lightly as we kissed. I stroked Ama's breasts while her hands performed remarkable tri
cks beneath my navel, but we stopped short of sex, saving it for later.

  As our bodies dried in the bedroom, we shoved the two beds together and explored some more. I was struck again by Ama's peculiar beauty. I didn't know how others would respond to her-she wasn't men's magazine material-but to my excited eyes she was perfection.

  We made love slowly but just as passionately as the first time. We were still new to each other but it was as if we'd been partners for years. We knew exactly how to please one another, moving without thinking, loving intuitively. We hit climax at the same time and it was painfully blissful.

  "If we could bottle what we have," Ama said afterward as we lay on the beds, wrapped in each other's arms, "we'd make a fortune."

  "Who cares about money?" I said, nuzzling her neck. "I don't want to share. Let the rest of the world go hang."

  "That's not a nice thing to say," she giggled.

  "I'm not a very nice man," I smiled.

  "Is that the truth?" she asked seriously.

  "Having regrets?"

  "I just want to know. I love you but I don't understand what it is about you that I love or why. There's so much that's a mystery to me. I'd like to know what sort of man I've pledged myself to."

  I sighed and propped myself up on an elbow. My fingers made invisible circles on the flesh of her stomach while I spoke. "I'm a gangster. I steal, bully, hurt. Kill if necessary. I don't harm innocents. I believe in family and sticking by one's friends. But I've done bad things, Ama, and I intend to do worse."

  She nodded sadly. "I figured as much."

  "Is it too dreadful to bear?" I asked quietly.

  She shrugged. "At least you're honest."

  "Can you love a man just for being honest?"

  "Yes," she said after a moment's hesitation. "But can you love a woman who'd love a man like you?"

  "I'm prepared to give her a go." I smothered her with a kiss and she kissed back. Soon we were making love again and all worries and doubts were lost to passion.

  We checked out of the motel and made our way across town, then separated a few blocks from Party Central. Ama went around to the back. I strolled through the lobby and checked in. Said I wanted to use the computers. That wasn't unusual. I handed over my shoes and socks and started up the stairs. I took my time, reflecting on the task ahead, ruminating on Wami's words. While I was distracted, a good picture of the woman formed in my mind. I tried using it to pry open the locks of my past but they were as secure as ever.

  I was walking along calmly when, on the sixth floor, a shadow detached itself from one of the walls and grabbed my left arm. I almost lost control and fell down the stairs to an untimely, ridiculous death.

  "Capac, it's me."

  "Jesus!" I snapped. "Are you trying to save The Cardinal the job of killing me? What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up top."

  "I didn't want to go alone. I got nervous."

  I studied Ama in the dim light. She was trembling. She'd seemed so brave before, I never stopped to think how unsettling it must be. She was, after all, the daughter of a restaurateur. It was only natural that she should feel intimidated and unsure of herself in a situation like this.

  "You want to call this off?" I asked. "I can go by myself."

  "No." She smiled shakily. "It's just nerves. They'll pass."

  "You're sure?" When she nodded, I gave her hand a squeeze and we headed up, Ama leading the way. The stairs were deserted. "Don't you ever run into anyone?" I whispered.

  "Rarely. Occasionally I'll hear someone coming, slip behind a door and wait for them to pass. You're the only one who caught me. Lucky you, eh?"

  I grunted and we continued past the ninth and tenth floors, then the eleventh and twelfth. There wasn't even anybody on the unlucky thirteenth. I was starting to see how Ama had gotten away with this for so long, how easy it was to pass unnoticed if you kept your nerve, when the door to the fourteenth floor swung open on us.

  We were seven steps down with nowhere to hide. As my heart dropped to my toes, I recognized the stone features of Ford Tasso. Acting impulsively, I moved up beside Ama and thrust an arm around her waist. I buried my face in her hair and pretended not to notice The Cardinal's right-hand man.

  Ford's hand went to his holster at the sight of intruders on the stairs so close to the fifteenth. His reflexes were way sharper than they should have been-I hoped I'd be in such good shape if I lived that long, which didn't seem likely at the moment. When he saw me he relaxed and lowered his fingers, but his expression was harsh.

  "Capac," he snapped. I looked up as if surprised. "What are you doing here? And why aren't you using the elevator like any normal person?"

  "I could ask the same about you," I replied cheekily.

  "Doctor's orders. I need to exercise. I don't have time for a gym, so I jog up and down these stairs as often as I can." He glanced at Ama. "Who's your friend?"

  "This is Ama, my secretary. I'm moving up in the world."

  "What's she doing here?" he asked.

  "I'm showing her the ropes. Introducing her to the staff, helping her get her bearings. You know."

  "There are people paid to do that."

  "Sure there are, but…" I patted Ama's butt in a way I'm sure she despised. "There's nothing like the personal touch." I winked slyly.

  Ford chortled, the sound of a corpse having a seizure, and moved down past us. "Use the elevator next time," he said. "I might have shot you if it was darker."

  "Yes, boss." I grinned and held the expression until he turned out of sight. Then we looked at each other and sagged.

  "Christ," Ama wheezed. "I come here dozens of times by myself, no hassles. The first night I bring you, Ford fucking Tasso turns up! Are you a jinx, Raimi?"

  "Let's hope not," I said. "You've got to admit, though, I handled him pretty well."

  "You were OK."

  "Just OK? What would you have done if you'd been alone?"

  "Dropped my drawers and fucked him placid," she laughed.

  We made it to the nineteenth without further surprises. It housed a huge room the length of the building. It was dusty and I found myself coughing. Ama loaned me a handkerchief. I thanked her between convulsions. It was dark up here, lights set at infrequent intervals, too few and weak to be much use. Ama drew a small flashlight from one of her many pockets and flicked it on. She moved away from the door, into the heart of the gloom. I followed quietly, gazing around with interest.

  Boxes stood in huge piles like silent guardians wherever I looked. Each pillar was set apart from its companions by three or four feet. A maze of passageways ran through the towers.

  "What's in these?" I asked, tapping one of the piles.

  "Everything. There are no clear divisions. Maps, blueprints, newspaper clippings and personal files. Minutes from secret government meetings, stuff he must have paid a fortune for. Lists of kennels, retirement homes and schools. Medical records. Photographs of hobos. Anything you can put on paper."

  I moved among a few of the skyscrapers, brushed against one by accident and froze, expecting it to topple. But it didn't even shimmer. I gave it a harder push but it was solid. Samson would have had his work cut out for him here.

  "This place is like a museum," Ama said. She was gliding between the pillars too. "Records going back centuries. Nearly all of it's original. I bet the curators in this city would keel over in shock if they knew a place like this existed."

  "What about the guards?" I was starting to feel edgy about the lack of security. The open window was hard enough to buy, but to move so easily up the stairs and through floors like this… How could The Cardinal's people be so careless?

  "You have to listen for them," she said. "But they're easy to avoid-they carry lights and are noisy. Like I've said, the reputation of Party Central is its prime defense. People just don't believe anybody could ever get in."

  "Still…" I couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't right. I had a nasty suspicion that a regiment of Tro
ops would burst in and spray us with lead. Well, it was too late to worry. I should have done that earlier. I was here now, far beyond the boundaries of caution.

  "Where's the file?" I asked, not wanting to waste any more time. We'd tempted fate enough already.

  "Over here." She led the way to a smaller stack. "I targeted it because of its size. The taller ones are a pain in the ass. You have to drag out a ladder to get to the top, then pick the upper boxes off and climb down, up again, down again and so on. It takes ages. I stick to the small towers as much as I can."

  She pulled the paper down, one stack after another. I assisted her and within a minute we were two-thirds of the way to the ground. "Stop," she said. "It's around here." She began removing single sheets, then found the pot of gold and handed it across.

  It was a slim cardboard file. Four letter-sized sheets nestled inside. Just as she'd said, no indication of importance. The name was on a white sticker, stuck in the middle of the front.ayuamarca.

  I examined the first sheet. A long list of names, single-spaced, a neat ruled line through the majority. Leonora Shankar was the first name, unlined. Paucar Wami was a bit further down. Then a mass of crossed-out names. I recognized none of them, with one exception-Inti Maimi. There was one further unlined name near the bottom-Conchita's.

  The second page. Two survivors. I knew one of them, a general in the Troops. Inti Maimi was here again, near the bottom, once more neatly crossed out.

  Two more untouched names on the third sheet. One meant nothing to me. The other was the mayor. "You see this? The goddamn mayor's part of-"

  "Shh!" She put a hand over my mouth, flicked off the flashlight and crouched. I squatted beside her, though I didn't know what the emergency was. A few seconds later I heard footsteps. One of the Troops. He was carrying a flashlight and shone it around the stacks of paper, going through the motions. He didn't come near us and I soon heard a door flapping open and shut. We stood and stretched.

  "Sharp ears," I complimented her.

  "You get used to it," she said. "I've been here so often, and it's so quiet, I really think I could hear a pin drop."