Free Darwin's Nightmare by Mike Knowles Page A

considered myself like them. There was a line separating what I was from what they were. I was independent; I chose the jobs I wanted to work. It just so happened that one person in particular used me for my skills more than others. Paolo recognized my usefulness early on and he used me for jobs that required the ignorance and secrecy that only an outsider could provide. I worked on the fringe and I made Paolo aware of where everyone stood, be they gangs, other organized outfits, even cops. Being an outsider, I couldn’t use information I found to hurt Paolo: no one would talk to me or believe what I said. There were also the hoods he employed who would have been happy to kill me for no other reason than to relieve their boredom. I lived the life I was taught. I was off the grid to everyone. No one knew where I lived; I had no accounts or property in my name. I hardly had a name — just the one word I used for an identity. I was a ghost in the machine. No one saw me coming and no one traced me back to anyone.
    I stared out the window, thinking of the why, unable to find an answer. “Go see her,” was all I said.
    Steve nodded and grunted something as he got out of the car again. Sandra opened the door as he walked away from me and ran outside to him. They hugged in the street and cried together, two people who refused to follow the rules. I sat for a time watching the two forms joinedtogether with arms and lips. I smiled and found myself thinking of my parents. All the years I had lived with my uncle had never shown me what they were. I learned what they did, but I never knew who they were. No matter how hard I tried to climb into their world, they were unknown. I could only hold on to their memories like the edges of dreams. I had parts and images, but no real recollection of them. I thought of them as I watched Steve and Sandra in the rain. I saw two people who fought the system to make their own life. Two people who went outside the rules to protect their small family. In that moment I felt closer to my parents, closer to two people who fought to give me a life I had no right to have as the son of bandits. Steve and Sandra refused to give in to the mob, refused to give in to their filthy pressure. They wanted a life on their terms, and I helped them get that — maybe only for a short time longer.
    I pulled away from the curb and drove to a coffee shop around the corner. I found a spot behind it and parked, then sat in the car watching the streetlights fade into large blotches in the growing fog on the windshield. I got myself involved in a mess, and getting out was not going to be easy. I needed to meet with the boss before word got out — or worse, a contract.
    I got out of the car into the glow of the streetlight and walked to the coffee shop to the beat of the gravel under my shoes. I used the storefront windows to check out everyone in the shop before making a move to enter. No one looked out at me. No one even looked in the direction of the doors. I moved through the pair of doors separating outside from inside and ordered a tea at the counter. I sat at a table for two against the wall and watched everything that was going on in the restaurant. The counter had stools lined up for solitary eaters at a red scarred countertop. Sugar, napkins, and ketchup were the only decorations inthe restaurant. Four men sat in the red swivel stools at the counter and ate in silence. One waitress served them in her T-shirt and apron. She didn’t move fast and she didn’t move slow; she did her job with quiet efficiency amid the hum of the air conditioner and the clanging that sporadically erupted from the kitchen behind her.
    The waitress came out from behind the counter and brought me my tea. After she had left me the water, a mug, and a metal container full of milk, I thought over the events of the day. I had witnessed the deaths of seven people who were connected in their own right. I hadn’t