He poured two shot glasses. “Peace and love,” he said.
“Peace and love,” I answered.
He threw back the whiskey like a professional and refilled his glass when I was still only halfway through mine. He met my eyes. “You can’t stay here,” he said. “You know that.”
“Why? Because of Denise?”
“No, we can handle that. It’s you. You’ve got a price on your head. It will only be a few days before they come here looking for you.”
“Denise tell you that?”
“No.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“I told you I was an ex-cop. I still have contacts. The word is out that you ran off with Denise. It’s just a matter of time before they figure out where she might have gone.”
I was silent.
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t take the chance. Too many people might be hurt.”
“But even if I’m not here, they’ll find Denise.”
“They won’t find her. I’m sending her away. By tomorrow night she’ll be a thousand miles from here.”
I finished the scotch. “When do you want me to leave?”
“Tonight when everyone’s asleep. I’ll come and get you. Use the small room that Denise took you to last night. Your own clothes are there already.”
I got to my feet. “Thank you, Brother Jonathan.”
“How are you fixed for cash?” he asked.
“I’m okay.”
“Peace and love.”
“Peace and love,” I said and left the office.
My clothes, neatly pressed, were on a hanger on the back of the door. I stripped quickly and went into the bathroom. The lights went out in the middle of my shower. I swore for a moment, then remembered that they were on an automatic switch. I wrapped a coarse towel around me and went in search of the candle. I didn’t know she was there until I lit it.
She was sitting, small and forlorn, on the edge of the narrow bed. Some of the makeup had come off her eye and it still looked dark and swollen. “You’re going away,” she said.
I rubbed the towel over my head without answering.
“I knew that when Brother Jonathan had your clothes returned.”
I finished drying myself and reached for my shirt.
“I want to go with you.”
“You can’t,” I said bluntly.
“Why?” she asked much like a child.
“Because you might get yourself killed, that’s why. Brother Jonathan doesn’t want that to happen to either of us.”
“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”
I pulled on my jeans and sat in a chair to put on my shoes and socks.
She came off the bed and knelt in front of me. “Please take me with you. I love you.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She hid her face in her hands and began to cry. Her voice was a faint wail. “I never do anything right. I thought it would be good here. We would be safe.”
I touched her hair. She caught my hand and pressed it to her lips. “If I stay here, nobody would be safe. Not you, not Brother Jonathan, not any of the kids. And they had nothing to do with it.”
“I’m not asking for forever,” she whispered against my fingers. “I know I’m not enough for you. All I want is to be with you for a little bit. Then, when you want me to go, I will.”
I put my hand under her chin and turned her face up. “That’s not it, baby. Not it at all. Enough people have been hurt already. I don’t want to bring that shit up here.”
She was silent for a moment, staring into the palm of my hand. “Do you know you have two lifelines?” she asked.
My mind leaped to follow her chain of thought. “No.”
With her finger she traced a line from the heel of my palm to the bottom of my index finger. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re going to live a long time.”
“That makes me feel better.”
“But right now your lifelines are running parallel to each other.” Her finger touched the center of my palm. “And the first one stops about here.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Her eyes were serious. “I don’t know. But it means that one of your lives is going to come to an end soon.”
“I hope it’s not the one that has to do with my breathing.”
“I’m not being funny,” she snapped.
I didn’t answer.
“I’m very into palm reading. I’m good at it.”
“I believe you.”
“No, you don’t,” she said petulantly.
I smiled down at her. “Will starting a quarrel make you feel better?”
Her lips trembled. “I don’t want to quarrel with you. Not on our last night together.”
“Then stay cool.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Brother Jonathan said he would come for me.”
“That would be around midnight, when he makes his final rounds. We have time for a farewell fuck.”
I laughed aloud. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Unh-unh.” She got to her feet and began to unbutton her shirt. “Just holding your hand made my cunt get soaking wet and I’ve got a cherry ass you promised to take.”
I put a hand over hers. “I’ll never make it, baby. With what I got going in my head there’s no way I can think of getting it up.”
“I can think of lots of ways.”
I was right and she was wrong. But it didn’t matter. She made it so many times grooving on the game that it didn’t matter who won or who lost. By the time Brother Jonathan knocked on the door we were both dressed again.
His eyes took in the scene, rumpled bed and all.
I turned to Denise. “It’s time.”
“I’ll walk out to the car with you,” she said.
Silently we went around back to the barn. Brother Jonathan swung open the doors. They creaked loudly in the night. We went inside and I got into the car. The old Valiant lived up to its name. The motor turned over without protest.
Brother Jonathan stuck his hand through the open window. “Good luck, Gareth. Peace and love.”
He turned and walked out of the barn, leaving Denise. She leaned into the window and kissed me. “Will you call me when you come back?”
“You know I will.”
“I’ll be waiting here for you.”
It wasn’t until then that I realized that she didn’t know Brother Jonathan was sending her away. I wasn’t going to be the one who told her, so I just nodded.
“I love you,” she said, kissing me again. She stepped back. “Peace and love.”
“Peace and love,” I said, putting the car into gear and backing out of the barn. As I started down the dirt driveway, I saw in the rearview mirror that Brother Jonathan had put his arm around her shoulder and was walking her back to the house. Then I turned a curve and there was nothing behind me but night.
22
It wasn’t until I pulled into a gas station on the freeway to San Francisco that I noticed the brown manila envelope on the seat beside me. The attendant stuck his head in the window. “Fill it up,” I said.
He went behind the car and I opened the envelope. Inside was a thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills and a folded note: “I dumped the gun for you. Go to Reverend Sam’s Peace and Love Mission in North Beach in SF and ask for Brother Harry. He will have a ticket for a flight to Honolulu tomorrow and information about your contact there. Peace and love.”
There was no signature. It wasn’t needed. I stuffed the money in my pocket, read the note again, then tore it up. I got out of the car and dropped the pieces in the trash can.
“Check under the hood?” the attendant asked.
“Everything,” I said and headed for the john.
The attendant was waiting for me with a slip of paper in his hand. “You needed a quart of oil and I topped up your radiator and battery water. Six fifteen.”
I gave him seven dollars and got ba
ck in the car. It was five thirty in the morning and the day was coming up as I cruised past the mission at the end of North Beach. It was an old gray building, more like a warehouse than a hostel. There was a sign over the vacant lot: NO PARKING EXCEPT MISSION VISITORS. I pulled into a spot right up against the building. Then I got out of the car and started toward the door.
Before I could knock, it was opened by a medium-sized man in a brown suit. “Brother Gareth?” he asked in a thin voice.
I nodded.
“I’m Brother Harry,” he said, extending his hand. “Peace and love.”
“Peace and love,” I replied. His hand was soft.
“Come inside. I’ve been waiting for you since four o’clock. I was beginning to worry.”
I smiled at him. “That Valiant is not exactly the fastest car in the world.”
“You’re here. That’s all that matters,” he said, leading the way down a corridor. “I’ve got a room ready for you. You can crash there until your plane leaves.”
“What time is that?”
“Three-forty-five. But don’t worry about it. I’ll get you there on time.” He opened a door and I followed him into the room. “Can I have your car keys?”
I stared at him.
“I was told the car is hot. It will stick out like a sore thumb on our lot.”
I gave him the keys. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I was told to put it into a compacter.”
There was nothing to say. If you had to get rid of a car, that was the way to do it. No trace left. All the same I felt a twinge. The little old car and I had done a lot together.
I looked around the plainly furnished room. There was a narrow bed, a narrow chair, a narrow closet and a narrow window on the wall. It was a perfect room for a thin man. Suddenly I was totally exhausted. I couldn’t think. All I wanted to do was sleep.
“I’ll be back in a few hours with your breakfast. I think it’s a good idea if you stay in the room. We don’t want anybody to spot you.”
I nodded. Speaking was too much effort. He closed the door behind him and I stretched out on the bed with my clothes on. I had just enough strength to kick off my shoes before I went out like a light.
I slept through breakfast, but Brother Harry woke me for lunch. “You have to be at the airport an hour before departure,” he said almost apologetically as he placed the tray on a chair before me.
“That’s okay.” I looked down at the tray. Beef stew. I might have guessed. “I’m not really hungry right now. I’ll get something at the airport later.”
“The bathroom’s over there. You’d better shave. Blond beards don’t go with black hair.” He gestured to the other door. “You’ll find a razor in the medicine cabinet.”
The shave and shower helped. I began to feel alive again. I came out of the bathroom. He was waiting and so was the beef stew. I still wasn’t up to it. “Any objection to getting out to the airport early?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Do you want to leave now?”
“Yes.” Suddenly I had had enough of small rooms and narrow beds.
He pulled his old Ford Fairlane to a stop in front of the United Airlines terminal, reached into his coat pocket and handed me an envelope. “Your ticket’s in there,” he said. “Brother Robert will be waiting for you in Honolulu. He’ll take you to the mission.”
“How will I recognize him?”
“He’ll find you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Peace and love.”
“Peace and—” I stopped. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why are you going to all this trouble for me? I’m not even a member of your church. And yet all it took was a word from Brother Jonathan.”
“Oh, no,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t Brother Jonathan. He hasn’t got that kind of authority.”
“Then who has?” But I knew the answer almost before the question passed my lips.
“Reverend Sam,” he said in a hushed voice. “There isn’t a thing that happens in the church without his knowledge. He takes care of all of us. God bless him. Peace and love.”
“Peace and love.” I got out of the car and watched him drive off into the traffic heading toward the city. Inside the terminal I checked the departure board. It was only two thirty, which meant that I had an hour and a quarter to wait. I headed for the nearest cocktail lounge.
The bar was crowded, so I sat down at one of the small tables. The waitress came with my order—a double scotch on the rocks.
The way I figured it Brother Jonathan must have called Reverend Sam almost as soon as I got to his mission. Jonathan wouldn’t have made these arrangements on his own. It was organization all the way.
But what had made Reverend Sam decide that I needed protection?
“Another double, sir?”
I looked up with surprise. I hadn’t realized I had emptied my glass. They had to be watering their whiskey because I didn’t even feel it. I nodded.
She put down the drink. I glanced at the clock behind the bar. Two-forty-five. “Is there a phone here?” I asked.
“Just outside the entrance, sir.”
I paid the tab. “I’ll be back,” I said, leaving the drink on the table. I got a stack of quarters from the cashier and put in a call to Reverend Sam.
I caught him at home. “How is Bobby?” I asked.
“Much better. The doctors expect to have him on normal foods by the end of the week.” His voice lowered. “Where are you?”
“San Francisco International.”
I could hear the relief in his voice. “Then you are going to Honolulu?”
“The plane leaves in an hour.”
“Good. When Lonergan told me how bad things were, I knew I had to do something.”
“Was it Lonergan’s idea that I ship out?”
“No. But when I told him what we could do, he thought it was a good solution. I owe you too much not to help out.”
I was silent.
“I’ve made all the arrangements. You’ll be well looked after.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You don’t have to thank me. After all, you wouldn’t be in this trouble if it weren’t for Bobby.” He hesitated a moment. “If you need anything, you call me.”
“I’m all right.”
“Then don’t worry. I’m sure Lonergan will have everything straightened out in a short time; then you’ll be able to come back.”
“Sure.”
“Have a good flight. God be with you.”
“Peace and love,” I said, hanging up the phone.
I made a series of calls trying to track down Lonergan, but he was nowhere to be found. No one at his home, his office or the Silver Stud knew where he was. I couldn’t even get an answer on the mobile telephone in his car.
I was bothered. It was all too pat. Lonergan knew I didn’t want to go away. Yet I was moving farther and farther away from where I wanted to be. I didn’t even know whether the copy for the paper had made it to the printers on time. I put another quarter in the phone and called the paper.
“Hollywood Express.” I recognized Verita’s voice.
I knew she would know who it was, so I didn’t identify myself. “You okay?”
“Yes. You?”
“Fine. Can you talk? Anyone around?”
“I’m alone. Everyone’s gone.”
“The copy make it to the printers?”
“It’s all done. Your friend is very good. She worked all night to have everything ready.”
“Good.”
“Are you coming back?”
“That’s a strange question. Of course I’m coming back. What makes you ask?”
“Lonergan says you’re not. He was here with Ronzi. They took Persky upstairs for a meeting. When they came down, Lonergan said you were selling the paper to Ronzi and that Persky was taking over for you. When Lonergan and Ronzi left, Persky told me that
I wouldn’t be needed after this week.”
I felt the rush of cold anger. My uncle was doing his usual number. Playing God. “No way,” I said. “It’s not going to happen.”
“What can you do? If you come back, they will find you and kill you. They are evil, those men.”
“You go home and wait there until you hear from me.” I put down the phone and walked over to the departure board. There was a flight to Los Angeles at three thirty.
I was on it.
23
Honest John, the used-car man, squinted against the late afternoon sun. “This here’s our special for the week. Jes goin’ on TV with it today.”
I looked at the Corvair convertible. The black top and vinyl seats had been freshly polished and the yellow body gleamed from a recent wax job. “What are you asking for it?”
“Eight hundred including T and L. It’s a steal at that money. Twenty-three hundred new in sixty-five. Practically no mileage on it at all, considerin’.”
“How much?”
“Look at the speedometer fer yerself.”
I opened the door and looked. Sixteen thousand miles. I turned back to him.
He nodded. “Sixteen. That’s right. Nothin’. That car’s good for a hundred.”
“Not according to Ralph Nader.”
“What the hell does he know? He’s jes makin’ a name fer hisself scarin’ hell outta people. I drove that car myself. Handles like a baby carriage and jes as safe as one in the hands of a mother.”
I opened the lid. The engine looked good. At least it had been steam cleaned. The treads on the tires were not bad. Didn’t look like sixteen thousand miles. I went to the front of the car and opened the trunk. In the Corvair everything was back to front. The engine in the rear, the trunk in the front. There was no tread at all on the spare tire. There were even some bald spots showing through the black rubber. I looked at Honest John.
He had an answer waiting. “You know how some people are. Cheap. Won’t buy a new tire for a spare.”
“Sure. Can I take it around the block for a test?”
“You don’t have to. With our money-back guarantee, if you’re not happy, jes bring her back within ninety days an’ we give you the full credit fer the price against any other car you pick.”
Harold Robbins Thriller Collection Page 32