“So,” Booker says. “I always figured you were serious. Didn’t know you were this serious.” He nods toward my beaten and bruised face. “But it seems that kid banged you up pretty good.”
“You saw the video?” I ask.
“Nah,” Booker says, then points toward Valencia. “She told me. I don’t go on the Via Maris anymore. That shit is triggering.”
Then he casts a concerned look at Astrid.
“How’d that shoulder heal up?” she asks him.
He rotates his arm in the socket. “Right as rain. Thanks again for that.”
She smiles as she tips a mug to her lips. “It’s what I do.”
“Now, Stuart,” Booker says. “Good riddance. Never trusted the guy.”
“He was trying,” Valencia says, her voice hushed.
“He was weird,” Booker says.
“He was one of us,” Valencia says.
It’s Astrid’s turn for a confused little look, but she doesn’t dig.
“Let’s focus,” I tell them. “Someone tried to kill me, then killed Stuart. Kenji is in the wind. That changes the metrics here. Neither of you have noticed anything?”
“Nothing,” Booker says.
“Nobody,” Valencia says.
I spin my coffee mug. Two sips in and I don’t want it anymore.
“What about Azrael. Booker? Do you know anything about him?”
Booker shrugs. “Whispers and rumors. Nothing solid.” Then he snaps his fingers. “This Russian guy took your notebook, right?”
Booker, Valencia, and I all freeze at that. Silence strangles the table and after a moment Astrid catches on and says, “I think I need to use the bathroom.”
She slides out of the booth and disappears to the other side of the diner.
Booker shakes his head. “Dragged that poor woman into this…”
“Couldn’t be avoided. But yeah, my entire amends list. It’s ciphered, but someone with half a brain and a full afternoon could probably crack it.”
“What’s in there that could be valuable?” Valencia asks.
“It’s ten years of political assassinations and whatever side gigs I picked up on the Via Maris. The intelligence alone is probably worth a fortune.”
Booker points at me. “That right there tells you something. You’re about to start the ninth step, right? So you’re supposed to go over it with Kenji. Decide who to make amends to. Who gets a direct amends and who gets a living amends. He wouldn’t need to steal it if you were about to read the whole damn thing to him.”
“I’ve been stalling,” I say. “I think he knows that. Maybe he couldn’t wait.” I take a swig of coffee. “Or maybe we’re all criminals at the end of the day and we can’t change.”
Valencia elbows me in the ribs. “Stop that.”
“Let’s just go to Kenji’s,” Booker says. “The three of us, together. See what the story is. You know where he lives?”
Yes, I do.
“No, I don’t.”