Michael thought that tonight, whatever was on television, he and his wife should talk. He would tell her what he believed concerning the man who had come to see them, and he would suggest that when the other policemen and women came to visit, the well-meaning people with whom they now shared a horrible familiarity, they should not mention this evening’s visit.
And something else. Though his faith in words had been deeply shaken, he clung to the belief that words and names were to reality what pillars and architecture were to space. They humanized it. Just as DNA took the random chemicals and turned them into something recognizable, language could take inexplicable phenomena and tame them into situations about which something could be said, and thus about which something could be done.
He would no longer think of The Delivery Boy. He would call him The Upright Man. But in the meantime he would assume the worst. The policeman was right. More than that, Michael Becker realized that it was what Sarah would want.
Nokkon Wud be damned. If the fates demanded this level of tribute, then they could go fuck themselves.
They were sitting outside the Smorgas Board, a combination café and surfer hangout about eight yards down the street from where the Becker girl had been abducted. They had been for an hour, and the place was near to closing. The only other customers were a young couple hunkered around a table a couple of yards away, listlessly sipping something out of big cups.
‘Are you thinking, or just watching?’
Zandt didn’t respond immediately. He sat beside Nina, observing the street. He had barely moved. His coffee was cold. He had only smoked one cigarette, and most of that had burned away unnoticed. His attention was focused entirely elsewhere. Nina was reminded of a hunter, though not necessarily a human one. An animal that was prepared and able to sit, to wait, for as long as it took, without boredom, rage or pain to distract it.
‘They don’t all come back,’ she said, irritably.
‘I know,’ he said, immediately. ‘I’m not watching.’
‘Bullshit.’ She laughed. ‘It’s either that or you’ve had a seizure.’
He surprised her by smiling. ‘I’m thinking.’
She folded her arms. ‘Care to share?’
‘I’m thinking what a waste of time this is, and wondering why you brought me here.’
Nina realized it hadn’t really been a smile. ‘Because I thought you might be able to help,’ she said. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘John, what is this? You know why. Because you helped me before. Because I value your advice.’
He smiled again, and this time she actually shivered.
‘What did I achieve last time?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘Tell me. What happened?’
‘You know what happened.’
‘No, I don’t,’ she said, suddenly angry. ‘All I know is that you told me that you were getting somewhere. And you started getting secretive and not telling me anything, despite the fact that up until then you’d relied upon me to feed you stuff out of the Bureau. Stuff you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise because you’d been specifically barred from taking part in the investigation by your own department. I did you a favour and you cut me out.’
‘You did me no favours,’ Zandt said. ‘You did what you thought would do you the most good.’
‘Oh, fuck you, John,’ she snapped. The two slackers at the far table jerked upright, like puppets whose master had suddenly woken up. Heavy vibes.
She lowered her voice and spoke fast. ‘If that’s what you really think of me, then why don’t you just walk away, go back to fucking Vermont. It’s going to snow hard there real soon. You could just bury yourself in it.’
‘You’re telling me that you helped me out of consideration for my family?’
‘Yes, of course. What the hell else?’
‘Despite the fact you’d helped me be unfaithful to my wife.’
‘That’s pathetic. Don’t blame me for what your dick did.’
She glared at him. Zandt stared back. There was silence for a moment, and then she abruptly let her eyes drop.
He laughed, briefly. ‘That supposed to make me think I’m in control?’
‘What?’ She silently cursed herself.
‘Looking away. Kind of an animal kingdom thing. Male ego massaged by a sign of submission. Now I’m back to being king of the hill, I’ll do what you want again?’
‘You’ve gotten really paranoid, John,’ she said, though of course he’d been right. She realized she spent too much of her time with fools. ‘I just don’t want to argue with you.’
‘What do you think the deal with the hair is?’ he said.
She frowned, thrown by the sudden switch. ‘What hair?’
‘The Upright Man. Why cut the hair off?’
‘Well, for the sweaters. So he could embroider the names.’
Zandt shook his head, lit a cigarette. ‘You don’t need a whole head for that. All of the girls had long hair. But when they’re found, it’s all been cut off. Why?’
‘To dehumanize them. To make it easier to kill them.’
‘Could be,’ he said. ‘That’s what we all assumed back then. But I wonder.’
‘Are you going to tell me what you do think?’
‘I’m wondering if it was a punishment.’
Nina considered this. ‘For what?’
‘I don’t know. But I think this man took these girls, a very particular type of girl, on purpose. I think he had something in mind for them, and each of them failed to come up to scratch in some way. And as a punishment for that, he took something he thought would be of paramount importance to them.’
He took a drink of his coffee, seeming not to care that it was cold. ‘You know what they did to collaborators in France, at the end of the Second World War?’
‘Of course. Women who were thought to have accepted their German invaders too wholeheartedly were paraded down the street with their hair shorn off. A proud moment for our species.’ She shrugged. ‘I can maybe see the punishment thing, but I don’t see what global conflict has to do with it. These girls hadn’t fraternized with anyone.’
‘Maybe not.’ Zandt seemed to have lost interest in the subject. He was sitting back in his chair and gazing vaguely across the patio. One of the slackers accidentally caught his eye. Zandt didn’t look away. The slacker did, rapidly. He made a signal to his friend, evidently suggesting this might be a good time to go wax their boards. They got up and sloped off into the night.
Zandt seemed satisfied with this.
Nina tried to haul his concentration back. ‘So where does that lead?’
‘Possibly nowhere,’ he said, grinding out his cigarette. ‘I just didn’t think hard enough about it last time. Then I was hung up on the method he’d used to find them. How the intersection of their lives had come about. Now it strikes me as curious. How they failed. What he really wanted them for.’
Nina didn’t say anything, hoping there would be some more. But when he did speak, it wasn’t about the case.
‘Why did you stop sleeping with me?’
Caught again, she hesitated. ‘We stopped sleeping with each