The Girl in the Glass

HOLY SHINOLA

By noon the next day, after having slept and eaten something, Antony and I were back at the house. We'd left Morgan and Isabel in the fishing cottage in Babylon as it seemed secluded enough to be safe. I'd also told Antony to instruct Isabel on how to fire the gun, which we'd left with her.

The weight of my responsibility had begun to dawn on me during the return trip to the North Shore, and although the prospect of calling the shots was frightening, I had to laugh, remembering how only a few nights before, I'd felt so mature, thanks to having my arm around a woman and a drink in my hand. It struck me now that growing up had more to do with others being able to count on you, and whether or not you could pull through in a jam.

Antony rigged the back door to keep it closed and nailed up an old rug over the front entrance to keep out most of the autumn breeze. I built a fire in the living room using the shattered remains of the furniture. Once the blaze was really rolling and the house had started to warm up, I made my first decision. Going to my bedroom, I fetched the turban, my pasha pants, and the high-collared blouses that had been the props, and a good part of the lie, of Ondoo, and chucked them all into the fire. Black smoke, like some evil genie, roiled upward from those garments, and the stink of them burning seemed somehow right to me.

I went to Schell's room, chose one of his silk suits (a cream-colored one with a vest), a pair of shiny black shoes, and an indigo tie. I knew intuitively somehow that these things would fit me, and they did. It was a stroke of luck that when Schell was abducted, he was in his pajamas, because that meant he'd left behind his wallet (we'd need the money) and the skeleton key, which I knew would come in handy. Slicking back my hair in the mirror, I studied my reflection, and it struck me that, like one of Schell's butterflies, I'd finally emerged from my cocoon.

I walked out into the kitchen, where Antony was making coffee. He looked up, and I know he noticed my new attire but said nothing as he turned his attention back to filling the pot.

"Did they cut the phone wire?" I asked.

"No," he said, turning off the tap.

"When you get a chance," I said, "call Hal Izzle. Tell him what happened to Schell and tell him we need him to get out here as soon as possible. We'll pick him up at the station."

"Okay, boss," said Antony. He put the pot on the stove and then went into the office to make the call.

I took my seat at the kitchen table, focused on the intricate wing pattern of a mosaic, Colobura dirce, that lay dead next to the sugar bowl, and took stock of what I knew and what I needed to know. My only goal now was to save Schell. I didn't care any longer if we got Agarias or avenged Charlotte Barnes.

When we picked Hal up at the station in Port Washington a few hours later, he was wearing an overcoat with extra-long sleeves, a pair of gloves, and a hat with an exceedingly wide brim he kept turned down, obscuring his face from the curious and the cruel.

"Anything from Tommy?" he asked as he settled into the back-seat of the Cord and removed the huge hat.

"Nothing," said Antony.

"Kid, what's with you?" Hal said, pulling off his gloves. "One time I see you, you're a swami, and now you're a gigolo. You've got more disguises than Lon Chaney."

"The kid's in charge now," said Antony.

"Holy shinola," said Hal. "Congrats on the promotion." He reached his hand into the front seat and I shook it.

"It's not something I wanted," I said. "But you can call me Diego from now on."

I felt Hal's hand on my shoulder. "You're going to do fine, Diego," he said.

"Thanks," I said, feeling as though I'd jumped some hurdle by naming myself.

"Wait till you see what he's got cooked up for you," said Antony, smiling into the rearview mirror.

I then held up the leash and collar I'd kept out of sight on my lap.

"The old leash and collar," said Hal, his eyes widening. "You must have been talking to some of my lady friends."

"I don't know how to say this without being offensive," I said. "But you've got to play the dog."

"How could I be offended?" he said. "That's my bread and butter. You want me to bite somebody, pee on a lamppost, hump some dame's leg? Just let me know."

"You've got to get naked," said Antony.

Hal howled. "This is going to be better than I thought," he said and proceeded to take off his coat and start unbuttoning his shirt.

"I should have put a tarp down on the backseat," the big man said.

"Fuck you, Henry," said Hal. "Diego, do I have any lines, or do you just want me to act doglike?"

"All dog," I said.

"My specialty," he said.

We drove for a while, and as Hal put the collar on I explained my plan. After we crossed the Cold Spring Harbor town line, Antony asked, "What's this street we're looking for?"

I looked down at the directions Stintson had given me. "Bungtown Road," I told him. "It should be the third left up here."

It was late afternoon by the time we drove slowly past the ERO. It was a good-size building set back from the road, at the end of a straight path that led right to the front door. I couldn't help but think that it was trying to hide itself among the surrounding trees while its "researchers" did their nefarious work. I directed Antony to drive to the end of the block and park. There was a field and some woods behind the building, and it was my plan to approach the place from the back.

"This could take some time," I told Antony. "Once Hal gets back to the car, drive around for a while and then pull up on Bungtown a little ways down the street but facing the building so you can see me when I come out. We may have to move quickly."

"No sweat," he said.

"Okay, let's go," I said to Hal.

"See you later, Henry," he said and slipped into his overcoat.

"Spread some fleas around in that joint," said Antony.

Hal laughed, but the second he stepped out of the car, his entire demeanor changed. He was now a sullen mishap of nature, escaped from who knew where, as evidenced by the leash dangling from the collar around his neck. His expression had gone completely dull, and a glimmering string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth. When I started walking, he shuffled along beside me like a mindless animal. The transformation astonished me. Hal Izzle was a pro.

We crossed the field and made our way carefully through the woods at the back of the building, making sure no one was watching us from inside. After stashing his coat in the woods, we dashed out from under the cover of the trees over to the left side of the building, scurrying close to the ground, below window level. When we reached the front, I took a little paper bag from inside my pocket and handed it to Hal. He opened it, put his head back, and brought it to his mouth, letting some of the white powder sift in between his lips. He chewed on the baking soda and worked up some spit, and before long he was frothing at the mouth.

"Okay," I whispered, "you're good."

I stayed put with my back to the side wall of the building, trying to imagine the plan unfolding. Hal, for his part, was to enter the foyer and stumble around, as if disoriented. Then he was to drop to all fours, growl, whimper, and eventually just lie down and curl up on the floor until the guard got out of his chair. The idea was to get the guy to follow him outside and distract him long enough for me to slip in behind them.

The wait was torture, and I started to worry that the guard might have a gun and, being spooked by the sight of Hal, draw it. Somehow twilight had arrived without my noticing its approach, and the impending darkness turned my thoughts gloomy. When I was about ready to come out of hiding and go to Hal's rescue, I heard the door open. I peered around the corner and saw the dog man on all fours, swaying back and forth. The door had closed behind him, though, and the guard had obviously stayed inside. Hal growled and barked, clawing the glass of the door, but to no avail. I realized then that if I was the guard, I might not be too anxious to get too close to this creature either, and I feared I'd miscalculated the situation.

Another minute passed and I was sure the jig was up, but then, in what could only be described as a stroke of genius, the dog man suddenly turned sideways to the door, lifted his leg, and started peeing on it. Before he even finished, he started crawling on all fours toward the other corner of the front of the building. The door swung open, and from my hiding place, I saw the guard emerge, dressed in his blue hat and uniform, holding a billy club.

"Get out of here, you filthy mutt," he yelled. Hal got to his feet and shuffled off around the other side of the building. "Jesus Christ," said the guard. He took two steps, as if to follow, but then stopped. I started to make my move as quietly as possible, walking on tiptoe. The guard was only about eight feet from the entrance, though. I'd have definitely been caught, but just as I was about to open the door, Hal stuck his big dog head around the corner again and let loose a string of vicious barking. The man jumped a little, then lifted his club and gave chase. After that I didn't see what happened. I was inside, moving through the foyer and down a hall to the left, as Stintson had instructed.