56
WHEN Z ARRIVED in the morning, I was showered and
shaved and dressed for work. I had the little .38 in an ankle
holster, and my new .40 S&W semiautomatic on my right hip. I
still had the Browning nine-millimeter, but I kept it locked in the
hall closet, as a spare.
Last night's quartet
was no longer in front of my house, and we saw nothing of them as
we walked to the Taj, but as we ate near the window on Newbury
Street, Stephano stood outside and looked at us through the window.
I smiled and shot him with my forefinger. He showed no reaction,
and after a time, he walked away.
Z stared at the
empty window for a time. Then he looked at me.
"You know," he said,
"this is kind of fun."
"Except if we get
killed," I said.
"But if we didn't
run that risk," Z said, "what would be the fun?"
"Christ," I said. "A
philosopher."
"Well, it's true. I
mean, how exciting would this be if the winner got to capture the
fucking flag? You know?"
"You played capture
the flag?"
"Indian school," he
said. "When I was little."
" 'Death is the
mother of beauty,'" I said.
"What the hell does
that mean?" Z said.
"Pretty much what
you're talking about," I said. "It's from a poem."
"Oh," Z said.
"That's why there's the part about beauty."
"You sure you
weren't an English major at Cal Wesleyan?"
"Football," Z said.
"What's that about death and beauty?"
"If there were no
death, how valuable would life be?"
"Yeah," Z said.
"Like supply and demand."
"It is," I said.
"You got a weapon?"
"Got the .357," Z
said. "And a bowie knife."
"A bowie knife," I
said.
"I am a Cree
Indian," he said. "The blood of Cree warriors runs in my
veins."
"I'd forgotten
that," I said. "You planning to scalp Stephano?"
"Get a chance and
I'll cut his throat," Z said. "I'm good with a knife."
I
nodded.
"Time to plow," I
said.
"Plow?" Z
said.
"Just an expression,
I heard."
We finished our
coffee. I paid the bill for breakfast and we left. There was no
sign of Stephano and friends on Newbury Street. I looked at Z; he
looked happy.
Maybe he's getting in touch with his warrior
heritage.
I lowered my voice
on the assumption that all warriors had deep voices.
"It is a good day to
die," I said.
He glanced at
me.
"For who?" he
said.
"Old Indian
saying."
"Paleface see-um too
many movies," Z said.