They took their
seats on the couch, and as Renardo put his thoughts in order and prepared to
explain them, the coffeemaker ended its growling. He looked at his friend with studious eyes,
wondering how much he could tell him. It
was not as though he feared his trust being betrayed, but he was aware that the
average person would not readily accept a story such as his. He opted to tell it in its entirety, deciding
that if Nathan were a true friend, he would hear it first before judging. He cleared his throat and said, “Do you
remember those crimes that happened in Sacramento five years ago? And I’m not
talking about the everyday crimes. You
know, the string of high-profile robberies and murders that happened at the end
of the year?”
“Yeah, it’s hard
to forget. That was the worst crime this
city has ever seen.”
“I know. Well, do you remember what happened with all
of that?”
Nathan stared
off into space as the memories returned to him.
“They caught most of the guys, but some got away. People feared that the attacks would continue
since not all of them were arrested, or that copycat crimes would start
up. But nothing else happened.”
Renardo affirmed
the information with a nod. “You’re
right, not all of the criminals were arrested.
But that doesn’t mean that some of them weren’t known. On the news, they showed pictures of the men
who had eluded police. One of them was
named Victor Valdez. Do you remember
him?”
“Can’t say that
I do,” said Nathan. “But you know, that
was a while back, and there were quite a few names floating around. If you showed me a picture or video or
something, I might remember.”
“I don’t have
anything on me to prove it,” Renardo admitted, “but yeah, Victor was one of
them. Now I’m going to need you to
believe me here. I know it might be
difficult. This guy, Victor. Well, I was at a pub here in Sac, and I saw
him there. I know, you might think that
since I was drinking at a pub, I got drunk and thought I saw him. The thing is, I hadn’t even touched a drink
yet. And there he was, sitting at a
table in the corner; he had one arm around some lady friend of his, and two
guys—friends, I guess—sat across from them.
Now I was looking at him from a distance, and even though I was pretty
damn sure it was him, I wanted to be certain before I called the cops. I got a little bit closer, and one of his
friends noticed me. The three men walked
over to me and asked if I had a staring problem, if I was lost, et cetera—all
that sort of nice stuff. I grabbed my
phone and tried to dial 911, but they knocked it from my hands and forced me
outside. This is where you’re going to
just have to trust me.”
He went into the
kitchen again and came out with two cups of coffee and a handful of creamers. He handed one of the cups to Nathan, set his
own down on the coffee table, and continued:
“I was pissed as
I thought of what they might do to me. I
couldn’t stand the thought of Victor getting away with severely injuring me, or
worse, after being part of such heinous crimes.
So right as we got outside, I broke free from their grip. Instead of running, I fought. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I just started swinging my fists like I was
crazy, and somehow, I managed to knock Victor’s two friends to the ground. I hit them so hard, I thought I killed
them. Then I came to Victor, and all the
anger I had from hearing about his crimes came out. He was a mess when I was finished with
him. Toward the end a bunch of words
came from my mouth, and at some point I asked him, you know, ‘How could you
kill those people? Think of their children, who are left behind without
parents, knowing that they could do nothing to save them.’ And then he told me, ‘I had no choice,
man. It was Centius. It’s all on him. He made us do it. He made all of us do it.’
“I was surprised
by so many things at that point. I mean,
I had never even heard of Centius. I
guess in my moment of shock I just froze up, and I didn’t notice Victor
reaching toward his pocket. He pulled
out some kind of knife.” Then Renardo stood up and lifted up his jacket and
dress shirt. Across the bottom left
region of his abdominal muscles was a rather dark scar, about the size of a
thumb. “He stabbed me here. Hurt like hell, but luckily, he was so weak
by that point, and I caught on at the last second. If not for those things, I might be
dead. Anyway, yeah, he stabbed me, and I
just fell on the ground, thinking it was the end. He stumbled away. Some people found me and called the police,
and not long after I was in the hospital.
You probably remember that. I
told you I was drunk and fell on a broken bottle outside a pub. I told you that because I thought you’d never
believe what really happened. And I
didn’t even know what I thought about it, myself.”
He proceeded to
tell Nathan about the time he had spent tracking Centius, and how he had soon
discovered that the man’s first name was Malvin. He was interrupted only by the occasional sip
of coffee and Nathan’s rare and brief questions. He finished the story with his embarrassing
fight earlier that day, and lamented the fact that Malvin was aware of his
reconnaissance. He was about to book a
flight to Philadelphia, he remarked, when Nathan so sweetly disrupted his plans
by ringing the doorbell. Wiles was now
the only one who could tell him the truth of Malvin’s whereabouts, and this
would probably not come out without a struggle.
By now they had
both finished their coffee, and it seemed that Nathan’s eyes would burn a hole
in the empty cup he held. He did not
speak for a while. As he awaited a
response, Renardo glanced frequently at his front door; he realized that he had
become far too comfortable and careless in his vigilance during his
storytelling. It was impossible to tell
whether Malvin was miles or feet away, especially in light of his new
evidence. Whenever his eyes returned to
Nathan, he could not discern the young man’s thoughts. It appeared that he was considering all of
the information before making any decision or judgment, at least. Most people would not have been so
patient. But after a couple minutes he
said, “Renardo, my friend….”
“Yes?”
“Renardo….” He
sighed. “Man, do you know how crazy all
of this is? I mean, really. You’re my
best friend, and I’m on your side no matter what. But…ok, let’s look at what you’re telling
me. Almost five years ago, you happened
to be in the same bar with one of the dudes who committed those crimes. You fought three criminals and won, and got
stabbed. After you healed, you began
your own personal quest and tracked down this Malvin Centius guy, who is a
crime lord behind all those crimes five years.
The police have no idea about him, but you have tons of information. You flew to Philadelphia just so you could
get info about Malvin from a professor.
He gave you bad info, and you beat the living crap out of some random
guy because of it. Now this major crime
lord knows who you are and is trying to thwart your plans. Man….I don’t know. This is just crazy.”
“Check my facts,
Nate,” Renardo replied, his voice calm.
“Check them. See if there was no
Victor Valdez. See my fists? They’re cut
up from my fight this morning. I can
even show you the many pages of evidence I have, but it’s all in a different
room. This isn’t something I’m
inventing, man.”
“It’s just….I
don’t know. Something’s not right. It seems like you have a lot of your facts
straight, but I don’t know.”
“Look,
Nate. I am fully convinced that Malvin
isn’t finished with Sacramento. And I
can’t bear to see a repeat of what happened five years ago. I’m going to stop him, even if it means the
end of me.”
Nathan looked
closely at him. “What happened to you,
man?”
“What the hell
do you mean, what happened to me?”
“Never mind.”
Nathan set down his cup on the table and rose to his feet. “Hey, I need to get going. I have a lot to think about. Thanks for the coffee and everything. It was really good. I just have a couple of favors to ask, ok?”
Renardo did not
look at him, fearing that he would launch a fist into his face at the first
glance. “What?”
“First, I just
ask you to really rethink everything you just told me. Pretend you’re not you for a few minutes and
try to imagine hearing that. Maybe it’ll
give you some perspective.”
Renardo
grunted. “Fine, I’ll try.”
“Second, dude,”
said Nathan, “talk to that girl. I know
there wasn’t much between you, but maybe you can find something. You might need her more than you know.”
“Yeah, sure, fine.”
“Ok. Well, thanks again for everything. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
Renardo watched
as he left the house. Once he heard the
sound of a car starting up, he returned to his basement and sat at the computer
desk. Although it was still somewhat
early in the day, he was weary of it, and he desired that he could somehow
rewind it. Pummeling Mustache Man and
informing Nathan of such an enormous situation had not been his wisest moves,
and he felt that he might pay dearly for both.
Sancho sauntered over to him, rose to his back paws, and again threw his
front paws on his master’s lap. Renardo grinned
a pensive, sad grin and lifted the dog into his arms.
“Some people
only know how to hide from the truth,” he said.
The dog said
nothing.
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