Ours was the most reckless engine on the road until we turned to see that Pierre had dumped his motorcycle to make for a fire escape. We stopped the car, and I jumped out to chase him.
I managed to grab him and threw him against a dumpster. “Not so fast!” I punched him in the face.
I became a raving mad loon hellbent on revenge! I didn’t mind it. Maybe I’d been holding this inside for too long—the way I barely got out of Greenwood, the way I’d been made to feel grateful for West Egg like it was a grand act of charity instead of a means totame us. But we weren’t boys in need of taming! We weren’t strays to be thrown scraps! Students were failing at life because we were being treated like kindling. Why not punch a guy?
“Who started the fire?” I screamed, punching him again, breaking the skin on my knuckles.
“That’s enough, Nick,” Daisy said, pulling me away.
It was not enough though!How dare he help someone who’d burn us alive?
Jay and Zihan were watching me like I was a maniac. I resolved to stop punching and catch my breath. I couldn’t yell at the man incomprehensibly and expect answers.
Pierre, frazzled and skinny-necked, looked even weaker with three punches in his face. “Who are you people?” he whinnied. “What do you want from me?”
“Official business, as far as you’re concerned,” I said, steady. “Word is, you’ve got a knack for coverups. What’s your latest one about?”
“Whoever mentioned my name is aliar,” Pierre said.
“Was it the West Egg fire?” I demanded.
“I don’t know shit about that! Look, I’ve covered up a lot of bad things, but I didn’t do no cover-up for a school fire—this I know for sure.”
He was giving me nothing, so I punched him again. He started laughing and shouting, “Lay it on me! Let’s go again,” until another punch knocked him out.
Daisy walked over to me and looked down at the unconscious body at my feet. “Well, Nick, what do we do now?”
“Leave him,” I answered. “We have what we need.”
Daisy raised an eyebrow, and I pointed to the motorcycle Pierre had abandoned, still sitting down the block, where the mutt was sniffing around for his owner. The tag of the dog’s collar—sure to have Pierre’s address engraved on it—almost gleamed in the spotlight of the streetlamp.
“Trust me,” I told her.
I had a plan for this now. Sometimes just asking wasn’t enough.
Daisy had work in the morning at six o’clock sharp. Jay said he was exhausted, so he was heading home. I explained that I needed some time to myself to think. Just so they wouldn’t worry, I added that I would be home shortly. When they left—Jay promising to hail a cab and escort Daisy home—I asked Zihan if he’d break into Pierre’s apartment with me.
“I figured you were lying to them,” he said, his tone knowing. “But I’m in. Lead the way. I’ll follow.”
His quick acceptance only made the weight of my decision easier to carry. There was comfort in knowing that Zihan was game for whatever came next.
I never had gone to such extreme measures to get answers before. But we had to find justice on our own now that no institution was supporting us.
We left Pierre where he had fallen, leaning against the dumpster, after searching his jacket for his house keys.
I took a knife to both his motorcycle tires to get a head start, while Zihan grabbed the leash of Pierre’s dog and put him in thecar. Once I read the dog’s tag, Zihan drove us inconspicuously to Pierre’s tenement.
Pierre lived in an opulent penthouse that showed a view of Union Square—a park surrounded by office buildings. There was a filing cabinet behind his desk. I opened it to find stacks of folders and binders.
Soon I was caught up in the bizarre contents of Pierre’s records. I found a stack of newspapers that showed investigative reports of several crimes, but nothing damning.
I sat on the floor and sifted through the file cabinet. I pulled out more newspaper clippings and stumbled on something unexpected.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE IN SELECT PUBLICATIONS
NEW GOVERNMENT BUREAU AIMS TO TARGET RADICALS IN HARLEM
Washington, D.C.—Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer has intensified efforts to safeguard American ideals by ordering sweeping raids on radical organizations, including the Universal Negro Improvement Association. To further these aims, his office is establishing a special bureau to investigate and monitor suspected agitators, compiling records of their activities and associations.
