Page 118 of The Instruments of Darkness

“A jury will decide what she is,” I said, “if it gets to that stage.”

“Are you trying to tell me she’s innocent?” He laughed. “Of course, if you’re on their side, they have to be innocent, right? You never make a mistake. Like God, you see deep into the hearts of men.”

“It was a dumb move to set Leo loose. It’s only brought trouble to your door.”

“You mean you and them?” said Bobby, gesturing at Angel and Louis with utter disdain. “You’re not trouble, none of you. You think you’re a step above everyone else, but you’re just dinosaurs struggling in a tar pit. The world has altered around you, but you were too slow to notice, and now you’re fighting a tide that’s destined to overwhelm you. If my money and effort can speed the arrival of that happy day, I’ll expend both until I’m broke and exhausted. But let me tell you, I intend to live long enough to see the expression on your faces when you realize how wrong you’ve been, and that all your efforts have counted for nothing. After that, I’ll die laughing.”

He spread his arms, inviting us forward.

“So come on, what are you waiting for? Are you going to break up my office, bust a couple of ribs? Go ahead. I won’t even bother to call the cops, because no pain or damage you cause can even begin to measure up to what I’ve already suffered because of you. Do what you have to or get out. You’re making the place stink of piety.”

“I feel hurt,” said Angel to Louis. “Do you feel hurt?”

“Cut to the bone,” said Louis.

I prepared to leave. What more was there to be said?

“Is that it?” asked Bobby. “Jesus, it was hardly worth your while making the trip.”

“I arrived mad,” I said, “but you cured me of it. It’s hard to feel anger and pity at the same time.”

“Fuck your pity. You can take it to the grave with you.”

“Man still owes the lady money,” said Louis.

“Yeah, Bobby, I almost forgot. Cash only. I wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of your checks in the event of an accident.”

Bobby Ocean took a cashbox from a drawer, produced a fold of bills, and separated a small bundle of twenties.

“You sure that’s right?” I said.

“She only works mornings.”

“Worked,” I corrected. I folded the bills and put them in my pocket. “Next time you have a message to send, deliver it in person.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said. “Because there will be a next time.”

CHAPTER LXXV

The wind had turned cold and was now whipping trash across the lot of the Stonehurst Foundation. Only Bobby’s Humvee and my car remained parked outside, Vickery and the secretary both having departed, presumably never to return.

“We could have inconvenienced him a great deal more than we did,” said Angel.

“He was ahead of us on that front,” I replied. “What were we going to do: Push him around, or burn the place down around his ears? It wasn’t about making ourselves feel better, but ensuring he and his people were clear about the importance of distancing themselves from the Clark case.”

I unlocked the car. I wanted to get away from there before someone decided to link me with fascism and earmarked my car for the graffiti treatment.

“But he remains a long-term problem,” said Angel. “For you, not to mention humanity in general.”

I took a last look at the miserable property, with its faded lettering and grim facade. It was a suitable outpost for the malignancy that Bobby Ocean represented, but he was the voice of the minority, whatever he might have believed to the contrary. The world was filled with better people than that. He and his kind would never utterly disappear, with an influence disproportionate to their numbers—because such was the way with loud, prejudiced men—but they would always be outnumbered by the rest, and fundamental decency had a habit of prevailing. Ultimately Bobby, like all his species, was a frightened creature: fearful of change; fearful of anyone whose color, creed, or language was different from his own; and most of all, fearful of those who refused to follow his path. Bobby Ocean was destined to die scared. But then, so were most of us.

“Time will take care of him,” I said. “It has a habit of it.”

Louis, I noticed, looked doubtful.

“Anyway,” I added, “the visit wasn’t a total washout.”

“Why is that?” asked Angel.

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