Pernell shook his head. “I didn’t know that. Typical front-office op. Emir Zingarelli…you ever work with him? No? He was faster than you too. Not as fast as Cinque, but fast.” A mosquito buzzed around Pernell, landed on his prosthetic hand. “Zingarelli’s dead too. Helicopter went down off the coast of Texas. Might have been a peckerwood missile…might have been some asshole in maintenance didn’t tighten the right bolt.” The mosquito buzzed away and Rakkim pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. “Cinque and Zingarelli both dead, and here we sit, a couple of heroes baking our brains in the sun. Funny, isn’t it?”

Rakkim watched him.

“There were times these last few years I hated all of you with your two good arms and two good legs. All of you who still had missions ahead of you. Sometimes…sometimes I wish I hadn’t had body armor on when I stepped on that land mine. That titanium weave saved my life.” Pernell wiped his milky eye. It wasn’t a tear. Pernell had probably never cried in his life. He waited for Rakkim to say something, finally nodded. “Thanks for not telling me how lucky I am. Thanks for not telling me Allah must have a plan for me.”

“If Allah has a plan, He’s not sharing it with us.”

CHAPTER 45

“They used to call this the happiest place on earth,” said Sarah as they circled a fallen Ferris wheel. Half the girders had been stripped away.

Rakkim pointed to a man with his painter overalls around his ankles, smoking a cigarette while his rent-wife bobbed away. “He’d probably say it still is.”

Disneyland had been abandoned twenty years ago, much of its infrastructure looted, but plenty of the original park was still left behind, either too heavy to move or not worth selling for scrap. They walked over to the remains of the Matterhorn. Most of the fake mountain had been destroyed, but the snowcapped peak remained, shining in the moonlight, the brightest spot in the darkness.

Last night Pernell had checked the local vice squads until he found a detective who knew Fancy; he said she had come down a few pegs since working Little Vatican. Last he heard, she was renting it out at Disneyland with the rest of the fifteen-minute skeeges. Detective said she still gave a mean no-hands, but it was better if you closed your eyes. Pernell had offered the hospitality of his home to Rakkim and Sarah-they had eaten dinner together, but declined to spend the night. It had been late when they’d left Pernell’s, too late to go to Disneyland. They had slept until almost afternoon, then walked the boardwalk. Sarah insisting on feeding the gulls. When they got back to the motel, they made love, but were distracted, too conscious of time.

They started out on Main Street in Disneyland, asked a rent-wife who had set up shop in an overturned streetcar if she knew Fancy. It cost $5 to be told no. They had been told no a lot as they crisscrossed the park. Businessmen in twos and threes wandered the deserted streets, swinging their briefcases while women called to them. Muslims and Catholics, white-collar and blue-collar and everyone in between. Knots of young toughs leaned against the buildings, but in spite of its isolation and lack of police presence, the park was relatively crime-free. The rent-wives paid the toughs to keep the peace, and the toughs didn’t want to scare away business.

A rent-wife working under a splintered Mickey Mouse said Fancy used to catch tricks near Cinderella’s castle. The castle was a busy spot, men sitting around watching basketball on their phones while they waited their turns. No Fancy though.

“I didn’t like Pernell when I thought he could help us,” said Sarah. “I like him even less now that his information may be useless.”

Rakkim walked over to three toughs sprawled across a beached gondola. “Evening.”

The biggest tough was a pale anvilhead wearing only overalls to show off his tattoos. He looked at Sarah. “She’s too fine for this rat’s nest. You’ll put every skeege here out of business. I got a number you can call in Newport. Mucho upscale. Tell them Jimmy Boy sent you.”

“Thanks anyway,” said Rakkim. “We’re looking for a wife named Fancy.”

Jimmy Boy snickered. “Fancy ain’t so fancy. Nothing like what’s on your arm.”

Fifty dollars later, Rakkim and Sarah were on their way to what was left of the Finding Nemo undersea adventure. He had taken the money from a separate pocket so as not to flash the extent of their cash, but he kept watch for tagalongs anyway.

Sarah spotted the Finding Nemo adventure first, noticing a massive epoxy starfish that someone had taken a torch to. The ride itself was housed inside a large, concrete blue-white shark. Disneyland patrons had evidently once walked through a series of turnstiles and into the shark’s wide-open mouth. Although most of the teeth had been broken off, the shark itself seemed mostly intact. Light flickered from inside its red plastic eyes. Sarah started toward the mouth, but Rakkim put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s see if there’s a back door.”

Sarah smiled. The two of them made a circuit of the shark, found a ramp coming out of the shark’s tail, an exit obscured by sheets of rotting plywood that someone had leaned over the opening. She scooted inside before he had a chance to stop her. Slipped through the canted plywood without touching anything. Rakkim was right behind her, moving slowly, giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness. They heard voices ahead, a woman’s laugh echoing. Sarah stopped and he edged beside her.

A woman was bent over a large red terra-cotta crab, her hands braced against its outstretched claws. She wore a frilly, white blouse and a short skirt hiked up around her hips. A trim businessman in a green suit was right behind her, grinding away, his pants still belted. Candles flickered in nesting spots dug out of the wall, and their movements sent crazy shadows across the room. The businessman orgasmed in a series of gasping curses, and he slumped away from her. Still panting, he tossed the condom onto the floor, wiped his penis on her skirt, and shoved his penis back into his pants. The woman turned around, threw back her long, dark hair. Smiled in the dancing candlelight. It was Fancy. “Wow. That was so good. You really got me started, my husband.”

“Uh-huh.” The businessman ran a comb through his hair.

“Don’t go yet.” Fancy stroked his face, but he pulled away. “Another fifteen minutes. I’ve got ways to bring a man back to life.”

The businessman slipped his comb back into his jacket. “I divorce thee. I divorce thee. I divorce thee.” He stalked out the shark’s mouth, kicked something out of his path.

Fancy wiped herself with a cloth, arranged her skirt. Scooped up the bills the businessman had left. She jerked suddenly, sensing them. “I haven’t got any money.”

“It’s all right.” Sarah stepped into the light. “We’re not interested in money.”

Fancy flinched as she saw Rakkim, but her attention quickly returned to Sarah. “Two fine young Muslims out for a walk on the wild side. I can handle that.”

“No, that’s not it,” said Sarah.

“Don’t be shy.” Fancy licked her lips. Cat eyes and high cheekbones, a grace to her movements. She must have been beautiful before all the businessmen. “Unless you enjoy that.”

“We’re here to talk to you about your father,” said Rakkim. “We’re willing to pay for the conversation,” he hurried as she stepped back, afraid she was about to run.

Sarah took her hand. “It’s important, Fatima.”

Fancy turned her head away. The candle flames bobbed. Scented candles. Coconut. “Please…please, don’t call me that.”

Sarah held on to her. “I’m Sarah. This is Rakkim. We need to talk about your father.”

Fancy looked from one to the other. “Why?”