The Secret History of Las Vegas by Chris Abani Read Free Book Online

sense since she was a prostitute and unable to love him back, he couldn’t help it. And what if he gave up Asia and fell for Sheila? What then?
    Whatever Sheila saw in his face made her sit up. Look at the time, she said.
    Yes, he said.
    I must go, she said. I have work.
    Yes, me too.
    See you tomorrow, then?
    Yes, sure.
    At the door she paused momentarily, then shut it resolutely behind her.

Nine
    S unil knocked on Brewster’s door and entered without waiting. An older, often offensive, and unpleasant man, Brewster had founded the institute thirty years before. His early work had been in the area of group dynamics, a term that was a catchall for all kinds of work and that made Sunil in particular deeply worried. When it came to Brewster, everything sounded like a euphemism for something darker. There were five other projects housed there, all sponsored by the Department of Defense—Psychological Research; Weapons and Applied Tactics; Information Extraction and Analysis; Robotics and Organic Intelligence; and Planetary Resource Management.
    Dr. Brewster, Sunil said, I need to talk to you.
    As urgent as you might feel that need is, Sunil, you can’t just barge in here. Brewster was wheezing a little from the oxygen pumping from the portable tank, not much bigger than a thermos, in his lab-coat pocket. A hose snaked up to his nose, held in each nostril by a discreet clip. Brewster used the oxygen to stay alert for the long hours he put into work, and at seventy-five he probably needed it.
    I just got an order to sign for thirty dead apes, Sunil said.
    Brewster looked at Sunil with a blank expression.
    Bonobos, Sunil said, as though that would jog Brewster’s memory.
    So what? We run a lot of animal experiments here.
    So I didn’t authorize any tests on bonobos. I was wondering if you did.
    Listen, Sunil, I made it clear when I hired you that you answer to me, did I not?
    It’s just that thirty bonobos are a lot, and I wasn’t consulted on it. I would like to be consulted on experiments that are being signed through my lab.
    How long have you been here now, Sunil?
    Six, seven years, why?
    Wrong answer, Brewster wheezed. You should have said, long enough to know that’s just how things run here.
    I don’t like wading through shit like this. It’s too much to ask.
    Just hold your breath and swim upstream, Sunil. Don’t take it all so personally.
    Sunil smiled tightly. He wanted to say that in South Africa it was always personal. But he didn’t.
    Brewster was watching Sunil closely.
    Fine, Sunil said. He was awkward and uncomfortable as any boy would be in the principal’s office. Just then Sunil’s phone rang.
    Take it, Brewster said, waving his approval.
    Sunil took out his cell and looked at the caller ID. It was Detective Salazar. He vaguely remembered the man, but he did remember the case from two years ago that had led Salazar to consult him. Dead homeless men dumped out by Lake Mead. Sunil had been brought in as a psychological consultant. But since, unbeknownst to Salazar, the institute had dumped the bodies in the first place, Sunil was really more of a spin doctor. Protecting the institute.
    Salazar, he said.
    Dr. Singh, so good to get hold of you. I have a problem I think you can help me with.
    Listen, now is not a good time—
    The bodies have started appearing again.
    Sunil looked at Brewster and turned away, thinking, Shit, shit, shit.
    I can’t really help, Detective, he said.
    Yes, you can. I think we’ve arrested the killer and I need you to come down to County and administer a psychological evaluation.
    You caught the killer?
    Yes.
    So why do you need a psychological evaluation?
    It’s complicated.
    It always is with you, Salazar.
    They are Siamese twins.
    Conjoined twins?
    Yeah. I found them out by Lake Mead and there seems to be some uncertainty as to whether they were committing suicide or covering up a crime scene.
    The duty