were ringside at some sleazy strip club where the gender roles had
reversed. She got up.
Eddie was staring straight ahead at the wall. His face was creased
lines of strain, but he had a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. Maybe
instead of the wall, he saw the endless stairwell in the Empire State
building.
“Anything else he ever told you that seemed. . . interesting,
unusual?”” she asked.
Eddie didn’t answer. He was concentrating on the climb. The arteries
in his neck had swelled and were throbbing as if evenly spaced, small,
fish were schooling through his bloodstream.
As Holly reached the door, Eddie said, “Three things.” , She turned to
him again. “Yeah?”
Without looking at her, his eyes still out of focus, not for an instant
slackening his pace, speaking to her from the stairwell of that
skyscraper in distant Manhattan, he said, “Ironheart’s the only guy I
ever met who can obsess better than I can.”
Frowning, Holly thought about that. “What else?”
“The only lessons he missed were two weeks in September. Went north,
Marin County somewhere, to take a course in aggressive driving “What’s
that?”
“Mostly they teach chauffeurs for politicians, diplomats, rich
businessmen how to handle a car like James Bond, escape terrorist traps,
kidnappers, shit like that.”
“He talk about why he needed that kind of training?”
“Just said it sounded like fun. ”
“That’s two things.”
He shook his head. Sweat flew, spattered the surrounding carpet and
furniture. Holly was just out of range. He still didn’t look at her.
“Number three-after he figured he had enough Tae Kwon Do, the next thing
he wanted was to learn guns.”
“Learn guns?”
“Asked me if I knew anyone could teach him marksmanship, all about
weapons. Revolver, pistols, rifles, shotguns. ”
“Who’d you send him to?”
g He was panting now but still able to speak clearly between each
gasping breath. Nobody. Guns aren’t my thing. But you know what I
think? I think he was one of these guys reads Soldier of Fortune Gets
caught up in the fantasy. Wants to be a mercenary. He sure was
preparing for a war.”
“Didn’t it worry you to be helping someone like that? ”
“Not as long as he paid for his lessons.” She opened the door,
hesitated, watching him. “You have a counter on that contraption?”
“Yeah.”
“What floor are you on?”
A “Tenth,” Eddie said, the word distorted as he spoke it on a deep
exhalation. The next time he breathed out, he also issued a whoop of
pleasure along with his wind. Jesus, I have legs of stone, fuckin’
granite, I think I could get a man in a scissor hold, crack him in half
with my legs. You put that in your article, okay? I could crack a guy
clean in halfœ” Holly left, closing the door softly behind her.
In the main room, the martial-arts class was even more active than when
she had entered. The current exercise involved a group attempt to gang
up on their Korean instructor, but he was blocking and throwing and
whirling and leaping like a dervish, dealing with them as fast as they
came at him.
The brunette had removed her silvery jewelry. She had changed into
Reeboks, looser shorts, a different T-shirt, and a bra. Now she was
doing stretching exercises in front of the reception counter.
“One o’clock,” she explained to Holly. “My lunch hour. I always run
four or five miles instead of eating. Bye.” She jogged to the door,
pushed through it into the warm August day, and sprinted out of sight
along the front of the shopping center.
Holly went outside, too, and stood for a moment in the lovely sunshine
newly aware of how many of the shoppers, coming to and going from their
cars, were in good physical shape. Having moved to the northwest almost
a year and a half ago, she had forgotten how health conscious many
Southern Californians were-and how aware of their appearance. Per
capita Orange County had a lot fewer jowls, love handles, spare tires,
pot gut and pear-shaped bottoms than Portland.
Looking good and feeling good were imperatives of the
southern-California lifestyle. It was one of the things she loved about