11

My first meeting with Kyle was by the docks where land slanted to meet ocean. We settled on an outdoor bench, him in an olive green button-up shirt and me with the straps of my faded denim overalls unbuckled to the waist. Kyle's eyes were red like he had been sobbing for a while. I pitied him.

"I couldn't stop myself from coming here and couldn't tell anyone where I was going either. What are you?" He asked in sorrowful rage.

"Don't try to fight it. It would only increase your distress."

He reached immediately for his holster.

"Remove your hand from the gun." I snapped upon realization of what he was doing.

I could see his hand trembling, fighting to disobey me.

"I am sorry that I have to do this again."

"Please," he broke.

I looked into the distance, teary-eyed. "You won't harm me for the duration of our work together. Neither will you harm or hinder yourself from coming here to meet me in any form. You mustn't do anything that you know will play to our disadvantage." My voice shook saying that but I had to be thorough. I couldn't afford him the kindness of wiping his memory as I couldn't siren them back if he lost them.

"Kyle." I placed a hand on his. "Don't be angry with me."

I felt the willpower to slap my hand away in his veins but he couldn't hurt me. I was sure now. I pulled my hand away.

"You think I am bad but we have someone worse to catch. There's a person Carle. He is like me. If you want me dead, Kyle, you will want him dead. So let's cooperate." I got out a phone from my pocket. "First I need your number. Not your work one, your personal one."

Kyle tightened his lips.

"Do I have to? Again? Just work with me here. Kyle?"

He relaxed his face and said the numbers in a muted, angry tone.

"I don't know where Carle lives. He is really private so I never got him to tell me. I also don't have a picture of him. So you would have nothing to go off of. I know where his speedboat is anchored though but that would be too risky a move." I pondered. "Hold on. He said that he lives in a motel. There aren't many motels in Ver Mon Lago, are there?"

"I... don't... know," Kyle spoke the words like they were bitter.

"That's right. You are new here," I recalled. "I know for a fact that Carle compels a man to wire him money in order to afford his lifestyle. Can you ask motels to release their guest lists?"

"Warrant." Even the one word came out forced.

"This is a private matter; we can't pursue warrants. Okay see what we would do. We'll bank on what we already know. Carle drives a black car with very tinted glasses. Those are not common around here so they would be easy to spot. While I check motel parking spaces for any car of that sort, I want you to check police records and logs. Maybe it is registered somewhere with the plate number and address or something. Be discreet." I stared long at him, his eyes where strikingly blue.

"Be discreet," I repeated but with the voice this time.

He squirmed. "Can... I... go?"

"You can. Thank you, Kyle."

Some things had to be done, terrible as they were.

'Necessary evil.' I had once seen the words printed on the front cover of a magazine above the picture of model brandishing a sword in a feat of passion.

Only, my weapon would be Mr Silvan's rifle. I did not want to kill Carle but I had to. If he decided to leave the following day, this whole charade would cease.

Over supper that evening, I told Mr Silvan, "I want to learn how to use your rifle."

"Why?" He munched on his food. "Did something happen?"

"No. Just that, after what happened to you, I would like to know that I can defend us if the need arises."

"You don't need to learn. I can already use it."

"What if what happened before happens again?"

"Alright. I will teach you but you should finish your food first. You haven't even touched it."

I ate fast and joined Mr Silvan who was already waiting outside.

"This is a rifle," Mr Silvan said pointedly, "a killing machine. You must always treat it as such. At every instance."

I nodded with all seriousness. Did the underworld have such killing machines?

Mr Silvan pointed. "This is the barrel; this is the stock; this is the trigger; the knob here is the safety. If you don't intend to injure or kill anyone you should have the knob rotated on the mark. That way if you mistakenly pulled the trigger, the gun won't fire." He cycled the bolt. "The action I just performed is for when I want to reload the rifle. So after I shoot." He repeated the action. "I reload. Do you understand, Yara?"

I bobbed my head.

"Now I am going to hand you the gun. You'll identify the parts of the gun I have shown you. Then you rotate the knob and say when the safety is on and when it is not."

I received the gun from him; I expected it to be heavier but it was quite light. I pointed out all the parts turned the knobs and handed him the gun.

"Give me a minute." Mr Silvan entered back into the house and returned with a magazine holding five rounds. He inserted it at the top of the rifle and cycled.

"Follow me, Yara."

We walked a very short distance to the lip of the hill facing toward the ocean. Mr Silvan aimed the gun to the horizon and pulled the trigger. He cycled again; the empty casing flew out.

"Won't the sound attract cops?" I asked him.

"Not here. They'll probably think it is fireworks or something." He gave me the gun. "Now you try."

I pointed the gun just as he had and tried to copy his stance, curved a finger around the trigger and pulled. I wasn't ready for the recoil. I was almost pushed back. There was a smoky scent hanging in the air and for a moment there I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"Are you okay? Yara? Yara?" Mr Silvan's voice sounded weird to me, as if i was underwater. My eardrums took a great toll from the bang out of the barrel.

"It's really loud," I complained.

"Sorry. It's an old gun. Come on let's go inside. It's already late."

I began my task of finding Carle the next day and was totally pissed at myself for not milking out the information from him before. I wonder what he did in his free time given that he was always free. Apparently, he hated any declaration from rich townsfolk to catch fish indiscriminately. Perhaps, I could set Kyle on some expedition to procure a shark head in a loud advertisement. I laughed inwardly at the idea. As much as I would have loved to hurt Carle, I was also conscious of the matter; I would not hunt down a whale myself. Besides, that could take more than a month to pull off even if I instructed Lilnton Hedaker himself to do it. It wasn't worth it. I checked local advertisements for fishing voyages. I found some by a few old heads but those felt more like friends' reunion than anything else. There was another poster for a retreat organised by some sketchy recreational group, one for an excursion and another one by a lone lady traveler looking for a companion to explore the ocean with for one week. I fit the description in her ad and played around the idea of just ringing her and asking to join. Could imagine a comfort ride on a boat to the city and back. I ceased delaying the inevitable and started my long, dreary search for Carle's vehicle.

I went down to Oadaker's Lodge first. It was in such a serene neighbourhood. I could hardly believe how Mr Silvan exchanged words with the owner here. I was properly covered for the mission—a brown coat this time with a cap, not the straw hat Carle would have noted me wearing before. I went round the Oadaker building twice, even lurked across the street for more than twenty minutes. Only one van entered the parking lot in all that time. There was no sign of any black tinted cars. I debated entering the building to ask the receptionist if they had seen anyone fitting Carle's descriptions and finally decided that that would be the next course of action if I still didn't find his car.

The next motel was more or less a danger zone, run by the customary gang the police would always have one scuffle or the other with. A hub for most youngsters to in Ver Mon Lagho to test the extent of their youthful exuberance. It smelled of tobacco and paint. Carle would definitely keep away from this land-dweller mundanity. There was one a hotel mostly housing tourists and vacationers built deliberately close to the station. It could easily vie for one of the tallest buildings in Ver Mon Lagho. It was well guarded, and I wouldn't get inside without my siren which I wasn't willing to use for merely a hunch. I gave up on hotels and motels. By the time I was done, I was sure I had walked laps around Ver Mon Lagho in just a day. Saw a number of black cars most of which were SUVs or minivans with hardly any tinted windows.

Why had I even trusted a word of Carle's? Carle who despised land-dwellers more than anything. Why would he live in places where they were likely to be cluttered together? He would prefer the outskirts, the periphery. Those stray buildings on the roadsides leading out of Ver Mon Lagho. Perhaps he broke into someone's home and compelled them to leave town for a year. He wasn't beyond it.

I planned to head straight but was drawn by the ocean on my stroll back. Some umbrellas were scattered around the sand, one or two persons under them reading books or sleeping even. I strayed towards a lonely end, left my clothes by the beach and entered the water. Life's recent distractions had made me forget the eager longing for the underworld. And as psychopathic as it came off, Carle's presence healed a unique loneliness in me. The notion didn't disregard the fact he was still a nuisance in my life, a nuisance that needed to be expunged. I brushed aside any more thoughts about Carle. I came to relieve myself of my troubles; I came to hide myself under dark waters; I came in case my future wasn't what I had envisioned; I came to numb that voice at the back of head telling me that I would lose to Carle—no, telling me that I had already lost to Carle. I swam in the water anyway. I'd think of Carle even if tried not to. I began with quiet strokes till I was far enough from the coastline. Then, I kicked the water and blended with the waves. No afterwash. Just a quiet breach and a quieter drop. I dove even deeper than I had ever intended to. With every new leap, I saw Carle's face, his elegant dips and his quick rise. I think I wept; I was going to lose. I finished up, slipped my clothes back on and went home. Mr Silvan was waiting up again sleeping on the couch. I tucked him in and retired to my room. I had gone to most parts of Ver Mon Lagho that day and was fearful of what I was going to soon lose.