“You think you get to ask the questions? I can make you scream. Beg for death. Your life is nothing to us. We say ‘ye ye’—‘useless, worthless.’ Your family—nothing. Ye ye. It means useless.”
The Tiger came up close and I could smell his sweat and the tobacco on his breath. He held the knife close to my throat.
“Say it—‘I am nothing.’ Say it! You want to know about your family?” he screamed in my face. “Say—‘I am nothing!’ ”
“I am nothing.”
He cut me, across the biceps. I didn’t look at my arm but I knew I was bleeding. I wouldn’t show him weakness. No matter what happened to me now.
“Flesh wound!” he said and laughed. His killer boys found it funny too, sick little bastards. I wanted to take all of them down.
He motioned with the knife. “You want to see your family so bad, come on. You can see what’s left. Ye ye!”
Chapter 142
I STUMBLED FORWARD toward the deserted-looking farmhouse standing in shadowy darkness, and I wondered if Nana, Ali, and Jannie really were in there.
The closer I got, the less likely it seemed to me. I was afraid I had been living in denial all this time—for days now.
Suddenly I found it hard to walk, to stand, even, but I made myself go on, step by step, toward the dark farm that held secrets I maybe didn’t want to know.
There was a narrow dirt path winding up to the house and I trudged along a few paces in front of the Tiger and his killers. Were these the same bloodthirsty devils who had murdered Ellie’s family?
Was the one in the Houston Rockets shirt the bad lieutenant? Had he traveled back and forth from Africa with the Tiger? What was their connection with what was happening in Lagos and down in the Delta? Could a civil war become a world war? Was it starting in Africa this time?
Suddenly I was struck hard in the small of my back. I lurched forward, and almost went down, but somehow I kept my balance.
Then I whirled around and saw Houston Rockets holding the butt end of his rifle. He was going to hit me with it again.
“Stop right there!” I yelled. “You punk, you little coward.” I wanted to go after him so badly, to wring his neck and break it.
The Tiger laughed, either at me or at his vicious killer. “No, no, Akeem! I want him conscious. Open the front door, Cross. You are the detective. You made it all the way here. Now you will see. Open the door! Solve the great mystery.”
Chapter 143
I TURNED THE rusty knob, then pushed hard on the sticking wood-frame door. It opened with a loud whine.
At first I couldn’t see much, even with the faint glow from the flashlight held behind me.
“Where are they?” I asked.
“Go in an’ see,” said the Tiger. “You wanted this—proof of death.”
I walked into the house and still couldn’t see anyone in there. My heart was racing. Everything in the first room smelled of mildew, of dirt and age, maybe of death.
“I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”
Suddenly a light went on. A living area was illuminated—two small sofas, easy chairs, standing lamps—but I still didn’t see anyone else in the room.
I whirled to look at the Tiger, who loomed behind me. “Where are they?” I yelled. “There’s no one in here!”
“Tell me what you know,” he said, seeming serious and businesslike. “What did the she-bitch Adanne tell you? What do you know about the Delta? Tell me!”
I stared back at him. “Do you work for the CIA too? They wanted to know what Adanne told me.”
He laughed out loud. “I work for anybody who pays me. Tell me what you know!”
“I don’t know anything. I found out nothing in Africa. If I had, don’t you think I’d tell you? I saw you kill Adanne Tansi. That’s what I know, only what I saw with my own eyes.”