The Malice Box Read online

  ‘What happened?’

  She got up and walked to the window. She was rigid. ‘I couldn’t go on, that’s all.’

  ‘Your work?’

  ‘I ended up caring. You can never care. Not about people. Just about the cause. And sometimes you forget you’re not actually even serving a cause, you’re just serving a country.’

  ‘Was there something specific? A particular incident? You said you lost someone.’

  ‘Christ, did I ever.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Clumsy. To lose someone. To fumble a life. Oops. Butterfingers.’

  ‘You blame yourself.’

  She was fighting back tears. ‘Can we talk about something else? Tell me about Jacqueline. Or your job.’

  New York, August 27, 2004

  Robert stood on Broadway outside St Paul’s Chapel at 2 p.m., looking at the obelisk through the railings. The Quad showed four satellites engaged, accuracy of 29 feet, ready to navigate.

  It rang.

  ‘Robert. Waypoint 064.’

  ‘And good afternoon to you.’

  ‘Hi. You can take the subway to Canal Street.’

  The Quad showed the new waypoint as a location in SoHo, just over a mile north and slightly west. As he walked, he was treading on stars in the sidewalk again.

  Robert crossed Broadway near the giant clock at Vesey and walked north, heading in the direction of City Hall. On the corner of Barclay a green octagonal information booth offered free maps of New York. He took one, unable to resist.

  The signal faded. Trying to reconnect, he walked into City Hall Park and found himself staring at polished granite slabs laid into the sidewalk showing scenes from the area as it used to look. The granite was so smooth he could see his reflection, as though he were staring through the ground directly into the past.

  An image of the burning room flashed again into his mind. The past had never felt closer. He walked back to Broadway. The GPS signal returned as he reached the R and the W subway station, the gated grounds of City Hall itself to his right, closed to the public for security reasons.

  The Quad now said 0.9 miles.

  Something about the station entrance railings leaped out at him. A form like a fish was welded into the design. Green metal. He took a picture of it.

  ‘I’m going to tell you a story as you go,’ Terri said. ‘I hope you like it.’

  ‘I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Did you see the reading of Salome by Oscar Wilde that Al Pacino did last year at the Barrymore? Marisa Tomei was in it?’

  ‘Missed it, sorry.’

  ‘She did a Dance of the Seven Veils, very Middle Eastern. Made her butt shimmer and vibrate. The night I saw it she ripped her top off, flashed her breasts. It was very erotic. She didn’t do that every night.’

  ‘Wish I’d seen it.’

  ‘The Dance of the Seven Veils isn’t in the Bible, though the scene where John the Baptist loses his head is, of course… not everyone realizes.’

  ‘Hadn’t thought of that, but, yes, think you’re right.’

  ‘There was no Dance of the Seven Veils as we now think of it until Wilde wrote that play in the nineteenth century… in French, no less… but this story is where it comes from. It’s on a clay tablet. Very, very old. The story of Ishtar.’

  ‘The film version didn’t do too well.’

  ‘Shut up and listen. It’s the MP3 file I sent you last night. Start it as you go down the steps. It’s about what’s happening to you. When you get to Canal, take the left-hand exit and cross Broadway to the west.’

  Then she was gone.

  Robert found the icon on the Quad screen and clicked it as he descended past the green ironwork.

  The station was a utilitarian brown-and-yellow riveted oblong box, dotted with grubby dark blue mosaics of City Hall on the far side of the rails.

  Her voice was closer, more intimate, in the recording. She’d used a good microphone.

  ‘Hi, Robert. You’ll like this. Ishtar, goddess of love, daughter of the moon, has chosen a lover. She has taken Tammuz, the shepherd, to be her husband, and now he has become the god of fertility. Life on earth flourishes. But Ishtar has a sister, who rules the land of the dead, and she captures and imprisons Tammuz.’

  The R train came. He got on and found a seat.

  ‘Ishtar goes to her sister’s realm, the land of no return, the house of shadows, the place of darkness, to free him. There is no way back from this road, no exit from this house, where clay and dust are the only sustenance. The dead resemble birds, in this telling. Ishtar demands entry. Her sister, Ereshkigal, perhaps in joy, perhaps in fear, orders her to be admitted.’

  Robert closed his eyes and let his mind drift into the story. Entering the land of the dead… to reclaim a lost soul… that is what they were doing. Rescuing Adam…

  ‘The gatekeeper welcomes Ishtar to the land of the dead and opens wide the first gate. She is wearing no dress, only items of personal adornment and modesty. He takes the crown from her head. She asks: “Why do you take my crown?” And the gatekeeper replies: “Enter, my lady. Suchare the decrees of my queen.”

  ‘At the second gate, he makes her take off her earrings.

  ‘At the third gate, he makes her take off her necklace.

  ‘At the fourth gate, he makes her take off the ornaments of her breast, made of precious metals.

  ‘At the fifth gate, he makes her take off her girdle, inlaid with charms of birthstones.

  ‘At the sixth gate, he makes her take off her bracelets and anklets.

  ‘At the seventh gate, he makes her take off her final undergarment.’

  Robert smiled, holding the erotic image at a distance. Terri was stripping for him? She’d narrated it deadpan, but with just a hint of mischief at the edge of her voice. Was he going to let himself be seduced today? He’d never been a philanderer. He just wasn’t that kind of guy. He’d resist. He had to. That’s what the trial had to be.

  ‘Thus Ishtar is naked when she meets face to face with the queen of the dead. Ishtar immediately attacks her sister. The seven judges of hell turn the eyes of death upon Ishtar. Ereshkigal unleashes upon her a host of diseases, like a pack of hounds. Ishtar dies, and her corpse is hung upon a stake. The earth lies barren. Fertility dies. Man and woman sleep alone. The bull does not mount the cow, and trees and plants do not quicken.’

  Wow, Robert thought. Erotic charge dispelled, no problem.

  ‘But Ishtar has left word that if she does not return from the land of the dead after three days, she must be rescued. The messenger of the gods, seeing sterility all around, speaks with the sun and moon, and pleads with the god of wisdom, to restore fertility. The god of wisdom forms a being of radiant light to rescue Ishtar. The being’s name is Asushu-namir, which means “face of light”. The gates of the underworld open to Asushu-namir, who is taken to an audience with the queen of the dead.’

  A Unicorn, Robert thought. Like the Man of Swirling Light. What he must become.

  ‘Such is the radiance of this extraordinary being that when Asushu-namir asks the queen of the underworld for the water of life, she curses and spits but finally cannot refuse, and orders Ishtar to be sprinkled with the life-giving water and removed from her sight. Ishtar is restored to life.

  ‘At the first gate, her undergarment is returned to her.

  ‘At the second gate, she puts on again her anklets and bracelets.

  ‘At the third gate, she puts on again her girdle, studded with birth stones.

  ‘At the fourth gate, she puts on again the ornaments of her breast.

  ‘At the fifth gate, she puts on again her necklace.

  ‘At the sixth gate, she puts on again her earrings.

  ‘At the seventh gate, she puts on again her crown.

  ‘Tammuz her lover appears by her side, restored to her. Vegetation enlivens the earth. Fertility returns, and the earthlives.’

  The story ended as the train pulled into Canal Street Station. T
he ride was barely two minutes. He got off, its images still echoing in his mind.

  The exit was in the middle of the platform, by a sign saying waiting area in Chinese and English. Robert took the left-hand stairs and crossed Broadway to the north-west corner of the intersection, as instructed. Opposite him rose the off-white National City Bank of New York, built in Egyptian Revival style in 1927, now housing a shoe store. The GPS signal returned with an accuracy of 40 feet, and he headed west. The Quad directed him to make a right turn as soon as he could. The waypoint was just under half a mile away.

  He passed shopfronts selling knock-off bags and belts, perfume and clothing, a backrub place, a music equipment and electronics store with huge speakers in the street, a closed hardware store, an industrial plastics store covered in yellow graffiti, and arrived at the corner of Mercer Street.

  He made a right. The smell of urine hit him immediately on the heavily spray-painted, run-down first block. Then, as he approached the corner of Grand Street, the Cast-Iron District began and elegant former SoHo warehouses came into view, housing galleries and up-market clothing stores, residential lofts and trendy restaurants.

  The Quad buzzed and Terri returned. ‘Once you’re on Mercer just keep going straight till you recover the signal, and listen. There’ll be a stop or two along the way –’

  ‘That story?’

  ‘Did you like it? It contains today’s agenda, a little bit at least.’

  ‘The being of light? That’s me?’

  ‘It’s all you, Robert, in a sense. We are stripping down your identity, piece by piece. Then, if all goes well, you clothe yourself again. But in a new form. In light. Imagine me taking off my crown now. Can you? And stop when you get to Eve’s Delight.’

  It was just north of Grand, a glass shopfront leading to a virtually empty foyer, with the wares discreetly set further back from the street. It was half past two. It was a sex shop, one of the classier ones, run by women. Not his usual kind of haunt, though Kat and he had playfully explored a couple in their earlier days.

  Robert stopped and looked up before going in. To the south, the Gothic tower of the Woolworth Building was perfectly framed against the deep blue sky. To the north, framed equally perfectly, he saw the metal spire of the Chrysler Building. Its seven parabolic arcs shimmered in the sunlight.

  ‘Go in, Robert. There’s something waiting for you here.’

  ‘This isn’t the waypoint. Is there a cache here?’

  ‘No, the cache comes later. This is just a present, to help with today’s activities. Ask at the counter.’

  He went in, feeling slightly awkward. A friendly woman with multicoloured hair and a nose stud greeted him.

  ‘I understand there’s something here for me to pick up? My name’s Robert.’

  She gave him a relaxed, welcoming smile. ‘Hi, Robert. How are you today? Let me check.’

  She looked under the counter. ‘It’s your lucky day. Your wife left this for you.’

  She produced an orange-and-black plastic bag with his name clipped to it on a card. ‘She did?’

  ‘Would you like me to go through it? She asked me just to explain a couple of things.’

  ‘Er… sure.’

  She took on a happy, matter-of-fact, unalluring voice as she removed the items from the bag.

  ‘You may want to stretchthe cock ring a couple of times before you use it the first time, and lubricate it a little… it goes on before you’re fully erect. There’s a diagram included.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘If you’re not fully familiar with them, the main thing of course is to take it off if you feel pain or discomfort, and don’t leave it on for too long after sex… there’s some lubricant here… the blindfold is self-explanatory… oooh, I love pin-wheels. They won’t pierce the skin, but they can be very intense, you might want to start slowly with that… I th ink th at’s it?’

  Robert stood in a speechless daze, feeling completely awkward. He couldn’t use these things with Terri. He didn’t even know how. Yet she had read him well: part of him was enjoying being teased.

  ‘Is everything OK, sir?’

  ‘My wife’s been… busy.’

  She smiled. ‘Will there be anything else? No rush, if you’d like to look around.’

  ‘No, that’s… how much is all that?’

  ‘It’s taken care of, sir.’

  He emerged on to the sidewalk. ‘I’ve just taken off my earrings, Robert. Let’s walk.’

  ‘That was…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I mean, I’m not unfamiliar…’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But I hadn’t ever…’

  ‘Relax, Robert. You and I have some talking to do. If you need some help with it, I can promise you it’s all a necessary part of the Path.’

  He passed Pearl River on his right, the giant Chinese goods store that went all the way through to Broadway, like some of the graffiti-sprayed vacant lots. He crossed Broome.

  ‘Count the lotus flowers, Robert.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Learn to look and you’ll see.’

  He stopped outside a children’s store called Enchanted Forest and looked around him. ‘Don’t see anything.’

  ‘Learn to look and you’ll see.’

  On the other side of the street there was a design in the black iron columns of an old warehouse. He crossed to look more closely. It was a flower like a lotus, repeated on several of the columns, a flower of black iron. He counted. ‘There are eleven, Terri.’

  ‘Look at it another way.’

  ‘Another way? How?’

  ‘You’ll see. Learn to say yes. Use your eyes.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Use them better.’

  What was she getting at? Eyes. I’s, to say yes. Aye, aye. II.

  ‘I have it. Roman numerals, I and I.’

  ‘So what’s the answer?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Good. Remember that. It fits the sequence. Part of the next password. What did Ishtar take off next?’

  ‘After the earrings? Her necklace, I think.’

  He passed a big warehouse of Indian goods, then a hip clothing store.

  ‘There goes mine.’

  He was at the corner of Mercer and Spring.

  ‘It was all brothels along here in the nineteenth century,’ Terri said. ‘Keep moving. What did she take off at the fourth gate?’

  He could sense water flowing underground. Streams and grass and greenery long gone.

  A sign drew his attention, and he photographed it with the Quad: DANGER. HOLLOW SIDEWALK. Indeed. He no longer trusted anything, even the ground under his feet.

  ‘Umm… breast ornaments.’

  ‘There goes my bra… You read Neuromancer, Robert?’

  ‘William Gibson, right? No.’

  ‘Scene where the hero Case is plugged via computer into the sensations of the street samurai chick so he can follow where she goes and see what she sees… they call it simstim?’

  ‘Didn’t read it.’

  ‘She runs a finger around her nipple to give him a taste of how it works… I love that scene. It’s so hot.’

  Robert wanted to say he was married. The words wouldn’t come. She knew anyway. And just in one sense, just for a few hours, he realized he didn’t want to be. He was starting to no longer recognize himself.

  He passed an antiques and bric-a-brac store, then a lingerie store with mannequins in provocative poses in the window. He looked away, trying to cool himself down. He came to the corner of Prince Street, outside Fanelli’s Bar. The GPS signal kicked back in, accuracy 62 feet, and ‘Arriving Destination’ flashed up on the Quad screen.

  ‘I’m at the waypoint,’ he said. It was nearly three o’clock.

  ‘Well done. This was a brothel too. And a speakeasy. It has a hidden room downstairs. Secret entrance via a closet in the bar. Now, you’ll need a clue.’

  ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘First, what was the fifth thin
g she took off?’

  ‘Her girdle of precious stones. Didn’t know they had them back then.’

  ‘Think studded belt, maybe belly-chain, garter-belt, that kind of thing. There goes mine.’

  ‘What’s at the end of this, Terri?’

  ‘I am, Robert. And you are. Ready for your clue?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When I saw where the waypoint was, I couldn’t resist. I’ve had some time to prepare this one. I did it myself. It’s better than the one the Watchman sent me.

  ‘In a curtained room, in a secret bower

  Seek the sacred rose, find the holy flower

  She’s on display, and ready to play

  And none can resist her, once they have kissed her

  To rescue moon’s daughter

  Pass the Trial by Water.’

  Robert scribbled it down.

  ‘I’m your dream creature, Robert. Come find me. There go my anklets and bracelets.’

  He started to walk back towards Eve’s Delight, confused. It was too far from the waypoint, though. What did she mean? The secret room at Fanelli’s?

  He’d barely begun walking when he stopped again. On display.

  ‘You’re getting warm.’

  The window of the lingerie store.

  Curtained room…

  He stared at the mannequin on the left. Long black hair, wearing just black panties and thigh-highs, black opera gloves…

  ‘You’re getting very warm.’

  ‘You’re inside.’

  ‘Hot… come in and ask for your wife. But take a good long look at the mannequin in the window, the one who’s standing up on the left. That’s what I’m wearing.’

  ‘Terri –’

  ‘Please. Do it now.’

  He walked into the store. The décor was silver-grey and pink. A woman in her twenties in a form-fitting pink uniform came to greet him, her breasts pushed up into a welcoming décolletage. Two other women, dressed identically, fussed with the displays in the background. He was the only man in the store.

  ‘I’m looking for my wife? My name is…’

  ‘Robert? Hi, how are you? I’m Gemma. She’s expecting you.’

  She led him past racks of lace finery to a mirrored space at the back of the store. She gestured to a circular sofa in deep red-orange. There were several changing rooms against the back wall, each with a silver-grey curtain.