The Perdition Score (Sandman Slim 8)

He shakes his head.

“Coffee is all you’re allowed.”

“Ouch. Of everything you’ve said tonight, that’s the most hurtful.”

Willem turns to face me. It’s the first time since we shook hands a couple of hours ago. A giveaway that this won’t be a lasting romance.

He says, “The augur sees something in you, so I’ve been trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. But you come in here with these games and attitude, and worst of all, this Hell bullshit. Is that supposed to scare me? Am I supposed to be impressed with your lies or, more likely, your delusions?”

“I know some card tricks too.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You have nothing to say. Nothing to contribute except noise. If it was up to me, you wouldn’t just be barred from this boat. I’d keep you out of the whole marina.”

“Luckily, it’s not up to you, so we get to spend this quality time together.”

He turns back to the console.

“Just be quiet and try to do at least a little piece of your job.”

I watch the screen for a few minutes. The guests mingle. Abbot presses the flesh. Spends a few minutes with Tuatha Fortune, the wife of the previous augur. Waiters bring in drinks and food and take out the remains. The most exciting thing that happens is when a waiter runs out of shrimp puffs and Charlie Anpu, the graying, liquored-up patriarch of a heavyweight Sub Rosa family, gets bent out of shape about it. Like the poor-slob waiter is supposed to bend over and shoot seafood out of his ass. What a creep. My hoodoo is good enough that I could probably do it, but I hate to show off at parties.

I pull out my phone and check the time. More than two hours down here in Glitter Gulch. The best night of my life.

“So, Willem. How long were you a cop?”

“I told you to stop saying my name.”

“It’s a simple question. How long were you on the job?”

He shakes his head.

“You don’t get to ask about my personal life.”

I point to one of the screens. The augur laughs at a billionaire’s dirty limerick or maybe the guy does a mean Ed Sullivan impression. Anyway, the laugh looks real, but I can see Abbot’s eyes and he’s dying inside. That makes two of us.

“Abbot seems to be having a good time.”

“He’s doing his job. And he’s not the one you’re supposed to be watching.”

“I’m watching plenty. But I can’t hear a thing with you talking all the time.”

He freezes for a minute, but doesn’t say anything.

I take it back. I don’t want to machine-gun the party. I want to find the fault line that will drop California into the ocean and toss a nuke down there. No one on this boat, me included, will benefit the human race by living one more day. Let’s just blow the whole shebang into the Pacific and give Nevada a shot at some prime beachfront property.

I look at other monitors. Waiters go in and out of the kitchen. Security patrols the walkway to the boat. A seagull swoops low and shits on the deck. Lucky bird.

“Did you know Audsley Ishii?”

Willem nods. “Ishii is a good man.”

“And you don’t like me because I got him fired.”

“I don’t like you because of who and what you are.”

I swing my chair around to face him.

“Enlighten me, Willem. What am I?”