to being a heap of rubble resembling Berlin after WWIIalmost everything leveled for urban restorationbefore finally becoming the convention-center wasteland it was today. If you wanted to see a pretty and classy and up-to-date city of Niagara Falls, you had to cross the Rainbow Bridge to the Canadian side.
But Arlene didn't care about urban planning this night. She drove down Niagara Street to the Rainbow Centre Mall just a block from the double-wasteland of the Information Center and Convention Center, surrounded by their moats of empty parking lots. The Rainbow Centre Mall had a smaller parking area, with just a sprinkling of vehicles in it this Sunday nightcars belonging to the custodial crews and security people, no doubt. But a retaining wall blocked this part of the lot from the view of the streetfrom the view of any passing police vehicles late on a Sunday night, she realizedand Joe's instructions had been to wait for the girl, Aysha, to be dropped off near the main, north doors of the mall here.
Arlene patted her large purse, checking for the fifth or sixth time that the big Magnum revolver was in there. It was. She'd felt foolish taking it from the office, but Joe had rarely sent her out on tasks like this, and although she vaguely understood this Yemeni girl's connection to recent events, she wasn't at all clear as to what the other factors might be. Arlene just knew that Joe was doing something important tonight if he was sending her to pick up Aysha. So while Arlene wasn't alarmed or unduly nervous, she did have the loaded pistol in her purse, along with a can of Mace, her cell phone, her former and illegally but convincingly updated ID showing her to be a member of the Erie County District Attorney's officeas well as the carry permit for the Magnum. She also had some fresh fruit, two water bottles, a pack of Marlboros, her trusty Bic lighter, a small Yemeni-English dictionary she'd picked up yesterday with some difficulty, a Thermos of coffee, and the better and smaller of the two pairs of binoculars from the office.
Arlene took her time choosing where to waitshe didn't want to be spotted by a mall security patrol and picked upand finally decided on a spot far back near the Dumpsters, between two old cars that had obviously been parked there all night She settled in, lowered the window, and lit a Marlboro.
It was about twenty minutes later, just about eleven P.M., when the van entered the parking lot, circled onceArlene slid low in her seat, out of sightand then parked near the four workers' cars closer to the front door of the silent mall. Because the vehicle was at right angles to Arlene's Buick, she was able to use the binoculars to check it out.
It was a pest control van. On its side was a cartoon of a long-nosed insect gasping and falling in a cartoon cloud of pesticide. The driver had not emerged. His face was in shadow, but Arlene kept the binoculars trained on his silhouette until he leaned forward over the steering wheel to peer at the shopping mall, and for a moment the tall, mall lights illuminated him clearly.
For an instant, Arlene thought that the man's face was wildly tattooed or covered with white streaks and swirls. Then she realized that it was covered with burn scars. He was wearing a baseball cap, but his eyes caught the sodium vapor lamps and seemed to glow orangely, like a cat's.
As Arlene sat there, transfixed, the binoculars steady, the burned man's head suddenly turned her wayswiveling as smoothly as an owl'sand he stared directly at her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
He told himself that it was because he knew that Detective Paul Kemper might be hunting for him in the next few hours, almost certainly knowing that Rigby King had started her day with Kurtz and wondering now where the hell she was.
He told himself that it was because he really needed Angelina to agree to do what he'd asked for earlier, and it was not time to offend her. His life might depend on her decision.
He told himself that it was because he was hungry.
In the end, he told himself that he was full of shit.
The dinnerperfectly grilled steak, just rare enough, fresh salad with some sort of mustardy dressing, baked potatoes, fresh and crisply prepared green beans, fresh bread, tall glasses of ice waterwas fantastic. It didn't even make Kurtz want to throw up again, which was more than he could say about any food he'd had since the previous Wednesday.
Angelina had insisted, and he hadn't resisted, on Kurtz showering, shaving, brushing his teeth, and getting into clean
clothes before dinner. The punishingly hot showerAngelina had installed no fewer than three pounding nozzles in this huge, glass-enclosed guest room showermade Kurtz ache all the worse, but he almost fell asleep standing there. When he came out of the bathroom naked, he found his old rags gone and the fresh clothes laid out on the bed: an expensive silk, black turtleneck that seemed to weigh nothing, a butter-soft pair of black tweed pants that fit as if someone had tailored them for him, a new belt, clean socks, and black Mephisto boots in his size. There was also a black, uninsulated windshell-parka on the bed; Kurtz tried it on and found that it was made of some soft fabric that didn't crinkle or make any nylon noise when he moveda factor that might be important in the next few hours.