Brain Damage

I figured Bobby for about forty. "How much further does he have to go?"

"Well, you know how it is. Some people never get there at all."

"He'd better be there tonight."

"Shit, you don't have to worry about Bobby that way. He's a good man on the job."

"It isn't a job for a middle-aged adolescent."

"Look, I've worked with him before. I'm telling you he's all right."

"If you say so."

"I say so." He was silent for a long moment. I didn't have to go into his head to sense his disapproval. "You don't like people much, do you?"

I didn't bother to answer.

"I guess it's that thing that you do, getting into people's heads, see what they're thinking. If I could do that, I guess I'd start playing God just like you."

"You know me better than that, Ma

"I know you, and that's why I'm saying it. You see too much of the bad side of people, stuff that shouldn't be seen, except maybe by God. That's why you're down on people."

"You figure that God is down on people?" "I've known it all my life."

"Then how come I'm not down on you? How come I think that you're a mature, stable personality without a blemish or a flaw?"

"Well, shit, that's me. Everybody knows I'm perfect." He gri

"Maybe so. Bobby and me, we've got pricks in our outfit, too, but you'll never hear us say it in front of an outsider." "You just said it."

"That was just to make a point. You'll never hear me say it again." "I've got a different situation, Ma

I wanted to tell him how. I wanted to tell him how his outfit was engaged in a clear-cut battle that allowed for simple loyalties. I wanted to tell him how the chessmasters at Langley, men like Ogden and Jessup, moved their pieces around the board with an icy precision, casually sacrificing pawns for the good of the game. I wanted to tell him how many of those broken pawns I'd seen swept off the board in places like Afghanistan and Nicaragua. I wanted to tell him all that, but just then a white El Dorado turned off the highway and into the parking lot.

Ma

The El Dorado pulled up next to Bobby's car. There were two men in the front seat, which meant that they were breaking the agreement, but, then, so were we. The driver stayed behind the wheel. The dealer got out of the car and came over to Bobby's window. Bobby looked out, and gri

"You got it?" asked the dealer.

"Sure, I got it," said Bobby. "You got yours?"

"I got it. Get out of the car and let's talk."

"I don't have to get out, I can talk from here." Bobby had the motor ru

"In the car. Come on, let's see your end."

"Hey, you crazy? You don't show me nothing, and you want to see my end?"

"Look, don't fuck with me."

"You're the one who's fucking around. Let's see the stuff."

"It's in the car."

"You said a barrel, so let's see the barrel."

"Get out of the car, I got to check you for wire."

"You check me once I see the merchandise."

"I check you, then I see the money."

"Bullshit, it don't work that way."

"You're jerking me off, you don't have any money."

"Hey, do things right. Show me the merchandise."

They were bellowing at each other. It sounded like the usual ranking, pushing for an edge, but by now I was into the dealer's head, and I knew it was a burn. I made a deep tap to be sure. There was merchandise in the El Dorado, but it wasn't for sale. It never had been. It had always been a burn, get the cash and run, and Bobby was due to go down. The dealer's weapon was in his belt, and he was ready to use it, but he wanted to see the money first. He was working himself up to it with all that shouting.

Ma

"A burn," I told him.

"You sure?"

I was sure. I was into the dealer's head, and I could see it clearly. "You don't have much time. You'd better drop him."

"Shit."

He didn't want to do it. Doing it would blow everything that they'd worked on for the past month, but he had no choice. He fired, and killed the dealer. The bullet went in through the top of the head. He didn't have to do it that way. He could have dropped the dealer without killing him, but his partner was under the gun, and he wasn't taking any chances.

The dealer went down, and when Bobby heard the shot he hit the accelerator. The car raced across the lot to the far end, skidded into a one-eighty, and came roaring back directly at the El Dorado. The driver of the El Dorado had a weapon out the window, firing. Bobby kept on coming. Ma

Bobby had the driver cuffed and his face in the gravel by the time that Ma

I must have made a noise, because Ma

"No," I said, "but how do you know he was right-handed?"

"I don't. I'm just going with the odds."

Bobby came over and looked at the body. "The bastards," he said. He had a hard time getting the words out. He was breathing hard. He knew how close it had been.

It was time to bring in the local law, and Bobby was elected to drive into Houma to get them. Before he left, Ma

When Bobby was gone, we checked to see that the driver was secure, and then we sat on the hood of the El Dorado to wait. The frogs started up in the stillness, masses of them croaking in the wetlands behind us. Ma

"No."

"Didn't think so. Don't find many frogs in the big city."

"Wrong. Little town in north Texas, but no frogs worth going for."

"You don't talk like Texas."

"Not any more, it's been a while." I could have told him that he didn't talk like Cuba any more, but he knew better than that.

"We used to go for frogs when I was little. Not here, in Cuba. Big bastards, meat like a chicken leg. Catch enough and the whole family had frogs for di

"Do you go for them here?"

"Not worth it. Too much work for what you get. I guess it's something for kids to do." And then, without a pause, "What do you think of Bobby now?"

"He did the job," I admitted.

"You see him come straight at that sumbitch?" He jerked his chin at the driver on the ground.

"I saw it."

"He didn't have to do that. He could have let me finish it, but that's the way he is. He gets the blood up and you can't stop him."

So Bobby was a slob and a cretin, but he could do the job. That didn't change my opinion of him, but it was the wrong time to say something like that. All I said was, "You were right. I had him wrong."

Ma

"Part of my job."

"Yeah, I know, but it's one hell of a job. I don't know how you do it, but there's nobody like you. You're one in a million, kid."