Sirens, page 32
smell, sweet and thick and clinging, that she could not identify. Baba
felt cool against her and she wrapped him in her arms. Flecks of flesh
stuck between her fingers like a shattered sweet. Baba coughed, said
something. She put her head down. '?' she said bewilderedly. '?' But she
was thinking, Should I stay or leave him to call an ambulance. She
missed what he said. ', I can't hear you.' '. Ally that PR cocksucker."
His voice was thick, liquid, dull. She wiped the lacing of blood from
his lips. ' work on the set-up for five years an' now he wants it all."
His eyes closed for a moment and she was terrified he had slipped away.
"Baba. Pshe whispered fearfully. His eyes flew open and she saw the
spark within them. ', mama. Yo know whut that spic muthafucka said t'me
when he shot ... says
"Know what's wrong with this city? Too damn many niggas." ' ' up. Shut
up. Who cares about all that now?' He began to shiver. Sweat rolled off
him like rain. Again she wiped tenderly at his face and she saw him
staring up at her. Her eyes filled with tears. ', Baba,' she whispered.
' die. Don't die.' She pressed her palms more firmly st his chest.
Through the film of blood she could feel his ttered ribs, the tired
fluttering of his heart labouring on.
eyes never left hers. His lips opened with an effort, his 4., th pink
with the unending flow of blood. :,'Mania .. She clutched him.
"Baba, I won't let you die. I won'tp But could feel the warmth flowing
out of him, the life like a m draining into the sea, dissipating all its
power in that st deep. She wanted to open her veins to him, do anything
give him life again but she was no goddess and he no hical hero.
'..'Baba, I love you.' But she could do nothing, now or before, en she
had stood silent and unmoving in the safe shadows the room while she
watched the steel-jacketed pellets troying him. She replayed that one
instant over and over her mind. Why didn't I move? Why did I just stand
there? ow I'm helpless. Utterly helpless. And at some point her eyes
began again to focus on the side world. She found that what she held was
now merely cooling and pooling form. There was no life anywhere to be or
heard. Outside, beyond the striped protection of the shades, the lating
sound of a siren wailed at her on its way to some gency. There was none
here now. She heard conversation the street like the chittering of
monkeys in the treetops, tifiable but indecipherable. Street Spanish.
Then the ds moved away down the block. His eyes were glazed but she
would not leave him. Her cles were cramped and her flesh was raised in
goosebumps the pain only made her less aware of what she must ainly
sometime face..1 should have, I should have ... oh, I should have ...
She fled with her clothes close around her, with hate an enetrable bead
hidden in a locket strung about her neck. a long time she thought that
she would never smile again of course, that was just a young girl's
foolish notion. 278 279 Part Three Forest of Light Hast Du was, Bist Du
was - If you have something, then you are somebody - Viennese saying
Seven ' Eclaire was situated along the sweeping rollerter of San
Francisco's California Street. The limos swung the Lree-lined driveway,
purred to a halt before the ch-inspired frontage of dark red brick and
scalloped beige onry. But in fact the hotel presented two distinct
fagades to the comed guest. For, soaring above the ivied six-storey
oldrld section, gleamed the bronzed-aluminium and smokedss tower curving
upward thirty-three storeys to dominate section of the city's skyline.
The Auberge had become, in three years since its opening, the most
talked-about cture in San Francisco, overshadowing both the atriumed tt
Regency Hotel in Embarcadero, Center and the nsamerica, pyramid. Silka
left the car and the door locked behind him. For a e he could be seen
with Benno Cutler conferring with the agemcnt of the hotel. Liveried
bellhops opened the trunks @the limos, hustling the band's and Daina's
luggage inside. Silka banged on the door and the driver unlocked it. He
k his head inside, looked at Chris. ' security's been on.' They th' same
people we had before?' - Silka nodded. ' as possible. They had to haul
one guy from vacation. He was fishing in Tahoe.' He laughed.
tard's really anxious to bust heads.' se him,' Chris said. ' don't want
you tied up with that all th' time.' He sounded like he was in the
middle of a ncil of war. ''s all set,' Silka said. ', I've got to fix
Miss. itney up with her badges soon as we get upstairs, otherwise T be
stopped at every checkpoint.' He took a look outside. kay. Any time
you're ready.' The enormous lobby was cool and dim with cream plaster
ric columns rising to a buff-and-gilt arched ceiling laced 283 with
cupids and seraphim. To the left the lobby swung in a dogleg off which
could be seen discreet hand-lettered signs for the bar, a nouvelle
cuisine restaurant that did not open until six in the evening and,
adjacent, a cabaret announcing the appearance of Shirley Bassey. Nearer
to hand pale green and gilt sofas and matching club chairs were
scattered about, interspersed with tall fems, their wide fronds creating
subtle shadows as well as natural screens. The floor was mottled marble,
covered in its centre by an enormous Oriental rug. The Heartbeats had
booked the entire fifth floor of the old-world section of the hotel
which was, in effect, the fifth and sixth floors because all the rooms
there were duplexes. Tourists, of course, were relegated to the
modernistic splendour of the steel-and-glass tower with its
Nautilus-laden gym and Olympic-size indoor swimming pool high above the
city. The duplexes here had their own saunas and whirlpool baths, Daina
saw. All that was missing was the Swedish masseuse and she could be
ordered at the touch of a button. No wonder the Auberge was booked
eighteen months in advance. Chris and Daina were in the comer suite at
the far end of a hallway filled with pearly black-and-white prints of
San Francisco and men in dark suits and faces to match. It was a rather
spectacular apartment by any standards. Certainly Daina had not seen a
hotel room to match it. Around to the left was a full kitchen of copper
and chrome and, beside it, a dining room with an oak table large enough
to accom- modate twelve people comfortably. Facing them as they came
through the enormous double doors was the living area, which might have
been somewhat smaller than a football field but not by much. The entire
far wall was made up of a series of windows through which the city,
white as alabaster, shone in the bright sunlight. To the far right, a
spiral staircase, laden with tiny lights, led up to a pair of bedrooms,
each with its own plant-laced bathroom, connected by the sauna and the
whirlpool bath. While downstairs roadies came and went with equipment
284 IJ:bariges in schedules, harried press people fretted over '
interview schedules that Chris and Nigel might ight not confirm,
according to whim, and arranged for for the elite of the press corps
with Benno, Silka hustled upstairs and out of the maelstrom. e seemed
enough marble up there to build a fair-sized o. She chose the bedroom
with the deep green motif - was midnight blue. The curtains - both sets
- had pulled back. Sunlight flooded the room. Behind her she hear Silka
directing the bellboy with her luggage. Yes, rd him say, it's really
her. e went to the window. The air seemed like crystal, the perhaps
magnified after LA's almost constant smog. her eyes she traced the lines
of the buildings as they precipitously down to the deep blue of the bay.
Gulls ed low along the wharves and, out of the comer of her she saw the
bright red and gold flash of a cablecar as it peared over the crest of
Russian Hill, plunging down to "level. Far off, on a distant corner, she
thought she could out the brilliant costume of a street musician. The
sight her long to walk those streets herself. e turned around, saw Silka
staring at her. He was standing far side of ' room where the sunlight
lapped only at ' of his shiny black shoes. The rest of him was in Daina
recalled a football player she had once met, Iling at the size of him
even without all his protective g. It was as if he had been bred to
lower his shoulder the wind out of people. Now Silka struck her in the
same way. want to get out of here,' she said, ' a little while." nodded.
' has arranged a car for you. It's downwhenever you want it.' He crossed
the room in two cc-dissolving strides. ' first we have to prepare you
ght.' ile he set up the Polaroid camera and the other para- ia that
would process the colour photo of her face on to nated card marked with
infra-red dye, which she must at all times while she was with the band,
she said: ' Tie meet the band?' ilka grunted.
"Picked them up one summer in Cap 285 d'Antibes. Walked up to Jon
wearing nothing but a monokini and lay down beside him. That was the
kind of thing he couldn't resist.' ' then after Jon died ' still,
please.' The flash went off and the mechanism whined out the developing
photo. Silka put the camera aside. ', yeah, she moved in with Nigel
after Jon died but it wasn't what she wanted.' He looked up at her as he
worked. ' the moment she spotted them what she wanted was to make it
with Jon and Chris at the same time.' He shook his head. ' they drew the
line at that. They were far too close to share a woman ... brothers
under the skin and all that ...' ' Nigel? What of him? They all came
down to London together. Wasn't it one big family?' ', yes and no. '
they were all close but Nigel resented the special musical relationship
Chris had with Jon. Together, they made magic music. How can you explain
it? You can't. But Nigel had to try. He'd come to me and say, "They're
plotting behind me back, Silka, I know it. They want me out o' th'
group." At first I tried to tell him it wasn't true but he only wanted
to listen to himself or someone who would echo what was in his mind.'
Silka shook his head again. ' was a wild boy in those days, was old
Nigel. Two, three times a week I had to come get him out of some bird's
house when he'd been caught by the husband or the boyfriend with his
pants down.' He laughed amazedly. ' bastard just didret care. He was
insatiable when it came to women. I mean, oh, they all were in their own
ways but with Nigel it was different somehow, deeper and' - he shrugged
his massive shoulders - ' pathological is the right word, I dunno.
Anyway, he kept me plenty busy.' His eyes clouded. ' Jon died.' He
sighed, handed her the laminated tag. ' you go.' The photo of her wasn't
half bad. She pinned it on. ' then the band changed,' Daina said. ' what
I've been told it had to, didn't it?
Jon was behind all those outrageous publicity stunts that got the band
so much press in the beginning.' Silka began to clean up. ' knew what we
wanted everyone to know. Half the time Jon was too ripped to think 286
anything. Tie whispered them into his ear. I don't - no one y knows how
many were his and how many were Tie's. don't think even she could tell
you for certain because over e the process became blurred.
It's always like that with genesis of ideas, don't you think? I mean
even when, one Ming, you wake up and think, What a great idea! it's
really synthesis of what you've heard, seen, felt, acknowledged and, Y,
act upon.' Daina found herself wondering what a man who spoke this felt
like this, thought these thoughts, could be doing as yguard for the
world's greatest rock band. ''s what makes us different from anything
else on this ,, isn't it, Silka? We have the power to act on all that.'
went out while the band had their interview with Rolling n th e, e limo
taking her wherever she directed. They went left on to Hyde, crossing
Russian Hill, down into e part of the city she had seen from her window.
A cablecar bled by. She could hear the muffled clanging of its warning
as if from a great distance but by the time she thought press the button
to roll down the window, it had disappeared the lofty heights, on its
way to Ghirardelli Square where, knew, it would empty of its passengers
only to turn around the terminal to begin its grinding journey up the
steep slope 0 Union Square. ' and Green flashed by her and she was on
the crest the hill. The street performer she had glimpsed before was e
but the streets, filled with people, were as friendly as she einn d. '
here,' she said as they came to Union et and the limo took her west.
Within three blocks the street was lined on both sides by the ,
eccentric clothing boutiques, art galleries and restaurants so loved.
She told the driver to stop outside Elaine Chen's wherel ide, they made
the most inordinate fuss over her, serving r steaming herbal tea while
they paraded dresses, skirts, ses and sweaters before her. Customers
were no longer interested in the shop's wares, stering around her,
asking questions about Chris, the film, sting slips of paper at her to
autograph. They had the k, 287 heat of the sun, gobbling oxygen,
straining for a touch just as if she were some slick-skinned alien. It
made her feel ten feet tall, as if she possessed enough power to light
the world. It was only when Elaine Chen herself appeared from the bowels
of the shop to shoo them all outside and lock the door behind them that
there was any kind of a chance to shop. But then Elaine knew how to
flatter her important clientele. Back on the street, with her packages -
she had bought a pair of silk dresses, a satin blouse and a remarkable
grapecoloured jacket of silk and linen - she ran right into a slim,
rather effeminate-looking man in dark glasses, visored cap and pale grey
uniform. ' I take those?' Now Daina saw it was a woman, her voice high
and musical. She smiled charmingly. '.' She held out one arm for the
packages, gestured behind her at the silver Lincoln stretch limo purring
at the curb. It was not the one that had brought Daina here. ''s my
limo?'Daina said. ',' the liveried woman said. She began to usher Daina
towards the silver car. ' face is too well known for you to be on the
streets this long.' And she was right, Daina saw. Passers-by and
windowshoppers were becoming no longer that. She was eclipsing even the
sights of San Francisco, she reaaed with a little thrill. The woman
beckoned. It was dangerous to be out on the streets alone this way.
Daina nodded. ' right.' And, handing her packages over, stepped through
the opened rear door into the dark, cool interior of the car.
She might have been in a living room. There were no conventional seats
here but three butter-soft leather and rosewood swivel chairs. Between
them was a bar, TV, a massaging footbath in one comer, a bookshelf
filled with hardbound editions of Peter Pan, The Brothers Karamazov,
Lolita, Candy, The Story of 0, A Clockwork Orange, and the complete
works of Garcia Lorca. An odd assortment, Daina thought. But not half as
odd as the man who sat in the chair nearest the footbath. He had a long
narrow skull, bald on top but with thick silver 288 r on each side
combed straight back and not, as some vain did in ludicrous fashion, to
the side, trying to hide their ess. His wide, wrinkled forehead and
bronzed, leathery skin reminded her of a beautiful black-and-white
photograph Of Picasso she bad once seen. But there the resemblance ended
for he had no deep lines whatsoever in his face though he was, she
estimated, in his late sixties. Rather, the pleasant planes of his face
were covered by a skin of unbroken tiny wrinkles i one were viewing him
through a fisherman's net. Too, ere fierce bituminous chips with the
power of a far s eyes w younger man. ', Miss. Whitney,' he said.
"Do sit down.' He had a voice like Alexander Scourby's, deep and rich
and trained to be heard by many. He wore a pair of charcoal slacks with
deep pleats, a white viou v@Ahort-sleevcd linen shirt that had ob i sly
been made for m and black huaraches beneath which she could see his bare
One leg was crossed over the other at the knee. His hands e in his lap.
They were, she saw, large hands with great rled knuckles and bent
fingers as if he were suffering from itis. ' am Meyer,' he said. '
Meyer. You know me.' It was a question. She nodded. ' has spoken of you.
