LO, I WILL TELL YOU A MYSTERY

Chapter 7 Jumping the Loan Shark

Excerpt from Veronica's diary:

Joan and I decided to drive over to the loan shark's office. Originally I was considering breaking in, but to my surprise it was lit up and seemingly open for business, even though it was Friday night. The American work ethic, I guess. To Joan that was actually an advantage: it meant I could put my scheme in effect before her Dad showed up and dragged her back to the East Coast. Personally I had hoped that she would be out of the way, in case this turned messy, but the universe rarely cooperated with me..

"OK, this is how we'll handle it," I said. "You need to stay out of sight, because if Hunter's there he can recognize you. I'll be wearing a wire. It'll transmit to a tape out here, but you can also listen in. If I run into trouble --"

"Then I charge to the rescue, right?" Joan said eagerly.

"NO. You make yourself scarce, then call Weevil Navarro and have HIM charge to the rescue." Too bad this was spring vacation and most of my friends were out of town. Most people went TO Neptune for vacation, but if you lived there, you wanted to get OUT. But Weevil couldn't afford to leave. "I'll give you Weevil's number. Don't leave the rental car at his place; his cousin runs a chop shop ---"

It was a good thing that we were still in the rental car. If somebody was looking out the window, my red convertible would have created quite the wrong impression.

----

Joan sat in the front car. She saw Veronica go into the office under the big neon sign advertising EASY WAY; after that she had to depend on what she heard from the bug.

A man introduced himself as Nick Harriman and invited Veronica to sit down. Definitely not Hunter's voice, which Joan was sure that she would recognize even after nearly a year.

Then Veronica went into an amazing act. Just listening to it was awesome; it was too bad Joan couldn't see her. Veronica, with a hysterical edge to her voice, gave her name as Kristin. She and her "big sister Amber" had run away from Los Angeles and come to Neptune to enjoy the sun and surf, though they also had vague notions of getting jobs in the service economy there. The jobs had not materialized, and their rent was coming due. If the girls could not cover it, they would be out on the streets.

At this point there was a crashing sound, and Veronica's voice saying, "Oh, how clumsy of me." Footsteps, and Harriman's voice, sounding much louder than usual, assured her that everything was all right. More footsteps and Joan could hear Veronica mutter "S---" under her breath, though she couldn't tell what her friend was swearing about..

"So how much money do you need for that rent?" asked Harriman a moment later..

"A thousand dollars."

"That's a lot of rent for a couple of girls."

"Yeah, we went in for the luxury type apartment. Stupid of us."

"If I put up a thousand, would you be able to repay it by the end of the month?"

"Yeah, cool."

"Let me see some ID."

Joan held her breath. But Veronica must have anticipated that question. Maybe she had a fake ID with her.

"Fine," said Harriman. "OK, fill in the blanks on this form----"

-----

"Now I know he's crooked," said Veronica, settling into the driver's seat.

"Why?"

"He never asked for proof that we could pay him back. I just said two words and he accepted it, though by my story there was no source of money.. Even a loan shark knows that you can't get blood from a turnip, no matter how much you beat up the turnip."

"Then why did he give you that money?" Joan asked, staring at the wad in Veronica's hand. It was probably the first time in Joan's life that she had seen a thousand dollars in cash.

"Because a pretty girl in need of money -- and I could tell he was sizing me up -- has an option that a guy doesn't. Prostitution. If 'Kristin' doesn't pay back, he'll probably turn her over to a pimp."

"Oh my God." Joan remembered that her father had broken up a prostitution racket preying on immigrant girls, roughly a year ago. What shocked him the most, Will said afterward, was that some girls weren't any older than Joan. There but for the grace of God go I. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, Joan asked, "What were you cursing about in the middle of the meeting?"

"Oh, that. I 'accidentally' knocked some knick-knacks off his desk, hoping to plant my bug while picking things up. But he immediately circled around his desk and picked up the things with me. Either he's very gallant or he's very paranoid. Either way, I can't listen in on the office."

Veronica's casual attitude toward eavesdropping gave Joan the willies. Suppose somebody listened in on one of her conversations with God? Grace had actually done that, a year ago, but then God had let her do it because He wanted her to know about Joan. He knew everything, and if He knew somebody was listening in on a conversation, he could probably do something about it, so maybe Joan shouldn't worry. Still, it gave her a strong sensee for privacy..

At this point a car drove past, and Joan felt a strange, yet familiar sensation. As if a cold wind was blowing past her. The funny thing was that all the car's windows were closed and the AC was not on.

Déjà vu. Joan remembered that wind. It always blew when Hunter was nearby. Maybe it was a special sensation given her by God to warn her when Hunter was a possible threat.

"Turn around. Follow that car."

"Why?"

"You owe me a car-following, don't you?"

Veronica grimaced and did a U-turn.

-----------

Without a bug, we had to sneak up to the office and peak in the window to see what was happening. Hunter -- I recognized the face from those computerized mug shots that Girardi had shown us -- was having a huge argument with Harriman. I wished that I had succeeded in planting that bug -- or, for that matter, that I had learned to read lips at some point, like HAL in 2001. They say that automation causes the erosion of some vital skills, and they are right.

At one point Hunter hesitated and glared toward our window. Joan squeaked and took to her heals. I got my taser out and kept watching: Hunter seemed to lose interest in the window and turned his attention back to Harriman. I decided to give up and follow Joan.

Maybe Joan was finally convinced that this was too dangerous for her, that it would be better to wait for our Dads. As far as confrontations went, I agreed. But Pride compelled me to take the case as far as I could before Dad took over. In the safety of our car, I got out my cell and punched in a familiar number.

"Mac here."

"This is Veronica. How's vacation?"

"Fine, if you like sitting on a beach and getting sand in your bikini. I don't."

"How'd you like to do a computer search?"

"Cool. I'll make this a busman's holiday."

"Huh?"

"British expression I read about. Never mind."

"OK. Find out if there is anything sinister about the name Nick Harriman."

"Will do."

Mac's call came back when Joan and I were about to settle down to bed in the Mars apartment. "Hello?"

"This is Mac. That Nick Harriman guy doesn't seem to have a record. But I then asked for a cultural search, and got a wierdy."

"Shoot."

"If you drop the H, you get Arriman. And it turns out that in ancient Persian mythology, Ahriman was the name of the Devil!"

TBC

(Author's Note: Issac Asimov also based a name on "Ahriman" in his story "The Last Trump"; his version was R. E. Mann)