And Terrance might have won. He might have been able to land a punch or a kick or get a finger into the Russian’s eye, despite the way he was coughing.
But there was David—David, for fuck’s sake!—grabbing one of his arms and tugging him away from his attacker.
“It’s over, Terrance, stop!” he was yelling, “Let it go, they’ll kill you!”
And then the men from the jeep were upon him—there were only two, after all—and the first of them took the butt of his pistol and slammed it into Terrance’s cheek so hard that he really did see stars, understanding for the first time in the midst of his pain and shock that seeing stars was neither hyperbole nor myth. His ears were ringing. He was on his hands and knees in the dust. He blinked, trying to clear his head and focus on something more than the twinkling lights, and when he could see again, he saw those blue eyes. Yes, their leader was back. The one he could tell was in charge.
“This isn’t a movie,” he told Terrance. He was towering above him. “You’re not making a film in Arizona or New Mexico. You’re in Africa. There are a thousand ways to die out here, including pissing me off. Again.”
It hurt to breathe. His throat. But at least he wasn’t having the wind choked out of him anymore.
“I’ll tie him up,” said the fellow who had returned with him.
“Tie them both up,” he said, and he picked up the rifle.
David looked crestfallen as the leader of the group approached him. The guy smiled cryptically when he was eye to eye with the gallerist. “Tie him up the way his father would. On his back. In the dark. Maybe take some cotton from the first-aid kit and stop up his ears so he can’t hear, either. Isn’t that what your father likes to do, David Hill? Isn’t that what your father’s people do?”
“I know nothing about what my father does. I—”
“MK-ULTRA. You have Ken Kesey’s friend in your gallery.”
“But—”
“We should tie you up, blindfold you, stop up your ears, and then drug you. Make your mind mush. LSD, right?”
Terrance tried to make sense of it all, but the idea that David Hill’s father had something to do with LSD was too wild to believe.
“I’m torn,” the Russian went on. “I’m supposed to send you to Moscow. Let the KGB interrogate you at the Lubyanka. I’m sure your father has told you about the prison. Maybe it was an inspiration for him. Possible, yes? But a part of me just wants to finish this here. I’m curious: did your father kill Frank Olson?”
“Frank Olson threw himself out a window.”
He nodded slowly.
“Did your father dose him with LSD?”
“No.”
“And you know this for a fact?”
“I just know my father.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, David Hill.” He punched him hard enough in the stomach to double him over. “You know enough. Maybe if I shoot a kneecap your knowledge will improve.” He reached for his pistol and had gotten as far as unlatching the safety when David caught his breath and began to speak.
“Why would my father tell me anything?” He raised his voice, and Terrance thought he might break down and cry. “I know he’s CIA, but nothing else!”
“Do you know what we call him? Your father?”
David waited.
“The brain fucker. That’s your esteemed father. He gives people LSD. He restrains them the way we tied you up. Exactly that way. He tries to empty their heads so he can fill them up with whatever nonsense he wants.”
“My father is just…just a bureaucrat. He works in personnel.”
“Desk job. Bologna sandwich at noon. Low security clearance.” The sarcasm was thick.
“Yes! He’s not even sure what he’s going to live on when he retires!”
He sighed. “You know what, David Hill? I want to believe you.”
“Thank you.”
“But it’s not up to me. Maybe you do know nothing about what your father does or Frank Olson or MK-ULTRA. Maybe. But we can let the experts at the Lubyanka decide for themselves.” He gazed at David with disapproval, and no one said a word. David’s eyes had gone wide and were darting back and forth among the Russians. Until a moment ago, Terrance had never heard of the Lubyanka, but two words had registered: KGB and prison.
Finally, the one who was going by Glenn started to speak, but his voice trailed off. “I need to tell you something…” he began.
“Go ahead.”