“President Announces New Era in Détente.”
“Press for Peace, Crescatt Says.”
“Chief Executive Takes Cause to People.”
Cory continued his search of the house, but there was nothing else of interest. He left by the back door and walked to the car.
As he drove away, he planned his next step and thought about what he knew. Atkins had begun to put certain things together and had been killed for what little he knew. Wilton James controlled Sergeant Pierce and in turn knew Norm Lewis. They were all members of the so-called Committee of One Thousand. It wasn’t much information, but far more than he had known a few days ago.
The Bay Bridge Motel did a backwater business. During the off-season it had a few regular traveling salesmen, and during the season it took the overflow from nearby Holiday Inns and Howard Johnsons. Since it was located in Lantern City, it suited Wilton James’s purposes perfectly. He liked out-of-the-way places where their car could enter and leave in relative anonymity. His only requirement was cleanliness, and the Bay Bridge Motel nearly qualified.
Sergeant Pierce sat on the second double bed with a can of beer clenched in his fist. He tilted the can to his lips and drained it before lobbing it across the room into a metal wastebasket. “I say we call in the locals. Maybe even get a few trustworthy guys in from Deerford to help. Hell, let’s shake this whole damn town until they fall out.”
“I think it judicious we do it ourselves.”
“That could take forever. We don’t even know if they’re still in Lantern City.”
“They’re here,” the senior detective said matter-of-factly. “You sign out on sick leave?”
“Like you said. I got the cast off.” The bulky sergeant rubbed the lower part of his leg. “That son of a bitch.”
Wilton James tapped the street map spread out on the bed beside him. “I think they’re here, and I think they have a limited number of places to hole up.”
“I’ve checked out all the motels and inns. They aren’t there.”
“They aren’t that dumb.”
“Hell, Wilton. There’s probably two thousand houses in this berg, and half of them are empty summer places.”
“Exactly. And they’re in one of those empty cottages. Men are creatures of habit. When they go to ground, they run to known burrows. What contacts does Cory Williams have in this town?”
“None that I know of.”
Wilton James stuffed his pipe slowly. “Then I suggest we find one. Get his file from the car.”
“Jesus! There must be two thousand pages of notes and interviews in those files.”
“And somewhere in those pages is a hint, a pattern, something that links him with Lantern City. Get the files, Pierce. Now!”
Dawn streaked the sky. A low mist hung waist high and curled around trees as Cory turned onto the road that ran parallel to the Hunt Club. He had walked the road a dozen times in the past and knew that it led past several ancient house foundations, ending in a meandering path that turned into a deer run. He drove the car several hundred yards until he was well away from the main road. After dousing the headlights he let the car roll silently to a stop. The morning mist gave the area an eerie cast. As he left the car and began to walk a wide semicircle toward the club, he felt a forboding presence surrounding him.
The ghosts of farmers absorbed a century ago into the industrial plants of nearby Waterville walked with him. He knew that the apparitions represented his own anxiety, but this visit was one of the few options he had left.
He stopped and took the pistol from the waistband and twirled the chamber. It was fully loaded. Then he replaced it and walked warily on.
At first glance the Hunt Club seemed untouched by the fire that had taken Ed Robinson’s life. It wasn’t until he made a complete circuit of the desolate building that he saw smoke and soot marks surrounding a bedroom window in the northwest corner of the second floor. The glass must have been broken out by the volunteer fire department, but it had been replaced. Will Ratherman, the club’s custodian, must still be around. Cory slipped the gun from his waistband and held it firmly in his right hand.
Will Ratherman fought demon-filled sleep. The custodian moaned and squirmed on the narrow bed. An arm encased in a smudged thermal-underwear shirt unconsciously brushed the stubble on his chin.
Cory stood in the doorway of the small bedroom behind the kitchen and looked around. The kitchen light, to his back, fell across the floor. The room was crowded with the minutiae of a man’s hermitlike existence. A faded magazine photo of Jacqueline Onassis was taped to a splotched mirror over the dresser. Cartons and footlockers seemed to fill every available space in the narrow quarters. A shotgun in the far corner was probably loaded with buckshot to fire at marauding predators.
He took two steps across the room and picked up the shotgun. He levered the action until shell casings ceased ejecting from the chamber.
Ratherman sat up in bed. His hands clutched the edge of the worn army blanket. “Who’s there?”
Cory took two steps forward and placed the barrel of his pistol against the side of the custodian’s head. “I want some answers, Will.”
The man on the bed blinked, and blinked again. “That you, Mr. Williams?”
Cory pressed the barrel deeper into the flesh of the man’s cheek. “You know it is, Will,” he said softly.
“I had the feeling you’d be coming out here. I stayed up the first couple a nights after you busted loose. I thought you’d come but I had to get some sleep sometime.”
“Come on.” Cory waved the pistol toward the kitchen. “Put on some coffee, and we’ll have a chat.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Williams.” The custodian levered his legs out of the far side of the bed, away from the muzzle of Cory’s pistol. “I’ll turn the pot on. You know me. I make good coffee. Everyone always said that.” He pulled paint-spattered overalls over his long underwear and slipped his bare feet into muddy brogans.
“Hurry up.”
Cory stepped into the kitchen and crossed to the stove. He lifted the lid on the coffee pot that perpetually sat over a rear eye. It was still half full of yesterday’s brew. He lit the flame under the pot.
His back was to the bedroom door when he heard the custodian shuffle out of the room. “Raise ’em slow, Mr. Williams. Real slow or you get a charge of shot in your back.”
Cory turned to see Will Ratherman standing ten feet away, with the shotgun pointed at him. “Put that down, Will.”
“I said slow. I don’t want to cut you in half. That’s what this shot will do at this range.”
Cory raised the pistol and shot Ratherman in the thigh. The shotgun clicked twice on empty chambers before the man hit the floor.
Cory walked over to the fallen man, who clutched his bleeding leg and stared up at him in terror. He bent over and again placed the barrel of the pistol inches away from the man’s head. “Do you want to die?”
“No.” It was an anguished choking reply.
“That’s what’s going to happen unless you tell me everything I want to know.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Williams. I’m going to bleed to death unless you help me.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Cory put the pistol on a far counter and bent over the fallen man to rip away the blood-soaked overalls. He worked hurriedly to staunch the bleeding and tie a makeshift bandage over the wound.
Later, Ratherman sat at the long kitchen table with his leg elevated on a stool. He cupped a coffee mug with both hands. The hands shook.
“How did Robinson die?”
“We had a fire. He was up there with a girl, and they must have had a cigarette or something. Coulda burned the whole place down.”
“Where were you?”
“Asleep. Nearly unconscious.”
“Tell me.”
“It started a coupla days before. I got a call from one of the members. He had a friend wanted to say here a day or two.”
“What member
?”
“Norm Lewis.”
“Go on.”
“I said sure. I mean, members do that ever’ once in a while. So this guy comes up here. A big guy. I mean, real big. Didn’t have much luggage. Didn’t want to shoot, or nothin’. He just sat around, and we played cards and drank whisky.”
“Tell me about this man. Exactly what did he look like?”
“Short hair. About forty. Broad shoulders.”
“Did he carry a gun in a holster on his belt or across his shoulders?”
“He did. I figured he was some sort of cop.”
“Sergeant Pierce,” Cory said.
“Who?”
“Never mind. Then what?”
“’Long about mid-evening, we’d been drinking, and me winning him at gin, something happened.”
“You passed out.”
“They told you.”
“I can guess. Then?”
“Then, I don’t know. I woke up late in the night. I don’t know what woke me up.” The man retreated back inside a shell. “That’s all. You know the rest.”
“I don’t think so.” Cory extended his arm along the table-top and braced his gun hand. The barrel pointed directly at Will Ratherman. The man at the far end of the table looked at him and his eyes widened. “You know more.”
“They’ll kill me. I didn’t mean to see anything. I don’t think I was supposed to see anything.”
“But you did.”
“Put that gun down, huh?”
“Tell me what you saw.”
“I figure the big guy I was drinking and playing cards with slipped me something.”
“Chloral hydrate.”
“Huh?”
“A Mickey.”
“Yeah. I can drink pretty good, you know. I mean, I got lots of practice up here all alone. I never passed out like that before. I can always stagger into bed. This time, I don’t know. One minute I’m playing cards, and the next, I’m out. I woke up in the middle of the night. I got a strong constitution; and that stuff don’ knock me out like it would some people. I got outta bed, and before I left the room I looked out the window and saw two guys outside, carrying a big sack.”
“What did the other man look like?”
“Don’t know. Couldn’t see well enough. He smoke a pipe; that’s all I could tell.”
“What did they do with the sack?”
“Buried it. Out behind the north wall, about four hundred yards from the house.”
“Then what?”
“Then I smelled smoke. I had to wait until those guys left. When I heard them go, I ran upstairs. Robinson was burning; there wasn’t anything I could do. I called the fire department, but he was dead before they got it under control.”
“All right. Can you hobble outside and show me where they buried that sack?”
“Guess I have to, huh?”
“You do. And tell me where there’s a shovel.”
It took Cory twenty minutes to dig up the sack and rip it open. He looked down at the body of Joe Page for a long moment before he turned away and retched in the high meadow grass.
CHAPTER 15
“How did you get in here?” Ruth Lewis asked.
“Over the pool cabana and through the solarium.”
“Sounds like a book title.” She turned away and walked to a bar cart in the far corner of the living room. “Martini, isn’t it?”
“With twist.”
“Of course.” She mixed the cocktail with dexterity, pouring such exact amounts of ingredients into the shaker that the poured cocktail exactly brimmed the rim of the glass. She prepared a Scotch and water for herself.
“What’s this?” He held up the plaque he had removed from the gun-room wall.
“Let me see.” She took the Committee of One Thousand plaque, looked at it myopically for a moment, and shrugged. “Some big-deal organization Norm belongs to.”
“Tell me about it.”
She sipped her drink. “I don’t inquire about the commodity market or Norm’s politics, and he allows me my extracurricular activities.”
“Then it is political?”
“If it’s not making money, anything else Norm does is political.”
“You must know something about it. He goes to meetings, or letters arrive.…”
She watched him over the lip of her glass. “Are you going to make love to me? I’ve never done it with an escaped convict.”
“Would you like me to ravish you on the rug?”
“Best offer I’ve had all day. Are you making it with that little waitress who helped you escape?”
Cory felt a burning resentment at her condescending attitude toward Ginny. “You’ve turned into a real bitch, Ruth. It makes you and Norm a matched pair. You set me up didn’t you?”
“If I say no, you wouldn’t believe me, and if I tell you I did, you might kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you.”
She finished her drink and mixed another. “Yes, I helped. You always were kinda dumb, Cory.”
“Tell me about the Committee?”
“What’s to tell? I’m not a member.”
“Tell me anything, no matter how unimportant it may sound.”
“Norm’s father brought the concept back from South America! It seems that down there, there’s a network or committee that stretches throughout the southern hemisphere. It’s made up of politicians, police, and army officials. I think that certain bureaucrats and very, very rich men are also included. Of course they claim to have the highest moral standards and patriotic feelings … maintaining the status quo neatly sums it up.”
“And it’s the same in this country?”
“As far as I know.”
“Who else is in it?”
“Two other men in Deerford that I know. I think they’re police officers. I’m not even supposed to know that much.”
“And in other places?”
“I don’t know. There’s a man in Toledo they call Rook, who calls Norm once in a while. That’s the only other contact I know.”
“For someone who claims not to know anything, you seem to have a good deal of information.”
“Not really. I’ve told you all except for one thing.”
“Which is?”
She slowly crossed her legs and tilted her head in an overt expression of sexuality. “They’re going to kill you,” she said matter-of-factly.
He was used to the constant clangor of phones and was able to differentiate his when it buzzed. He snatched the receiver from its cradle without averting his eyes from the slow march of numbers crossing the computer console on his desk.
“Lewis.”
“We’re in Lantern City. I know damn well he’s here, but don’t know where.”
“Damn it, James! I told you never to contact me here.”
“Time is of the essence.”
“Isn’t it always?” Lewis said dryly.
“Listen, Lewis. I’ve stuck my neck out ten thousand miles on this. I want your cooperation. You know him better than anyone. You know his past and his friends. We’ve been through our files twice and can’t find any connection between Williams and Lantern City.”
“Connection?”
“Does he know anyone down here? Did he ever know anyone? Men are predictable creatures of habit.”
Norm Lewis flicked off the console on his desk. “Yes, there’s a connection. I have a summer place in Lantern City. He’s been there a hundred times, going back to when we were kids.”
“Address?”
“Two Cove Lane. It’s the last house on the road, and located on a small beach.”
The phone clicked dead. Lewis stood up. He would wait for their return call at home. It shouldn’t take too long.
Norm Lewis left his office and walked toward the stairs leading down to the garage. If he hurried, he would be home in ten minutes.
The faint scratch of a latchkey in the front door startled them. Ruth’s glass fell to the floor and rolled noise
lessly over the carpet. Cory pulled the revolver from his waistband and gestured for silence.
The outer door banged shut. They heard him in the hall. “Ruth! Where in hell are you?”
Cory braced his back against the wall near the door. He silently mouthed the word “answer.”
“In here, Norm.” She picked up her glass with shaking hands and kept her back to the door as she mixed another drink.
Norm Lewis stalked into the room. His back was to Cory. “Now you’ve started sloshing down the booze in the middle of the afternoon. What’s the matter with you?”
“I had a visitor.”
“I don’t give a damn who …” Norm turned to face Cory’s gun. He seemed fascinated with the barrel pointing in his direction. “Put that down, Cory. The cops are on their way.”
“Sit down. Keep your hands on your knees.” Cory watched his old friend sit down slowly on the edge of an easy chair.
“What do you want?”
“Information.”
“Stop pointing that thing at me.”
“What’s the Committee?”
“What in hell are you talking about?”
“This.” Cory waved the plaque at him.
“Christ! You’ve seen that before. I told you that we’re a bunch of police buffs who support our local authorities.”
“Cut the crap! I found a similar one in Wilton James’s house. And I understand Rook has one on his wall.”
The room darkened as storm clouds gathered. Thunder faintly rumbled in the distance.
Norm’s voice dropped. “What did she tell you?”
Ruth sputtered in a near whine. Cory was astounded at the change in the woman he had once loved. From the coolly calculating person of a few minutes ago, in the presence of her husband her whole personality seemed to shrivel into a frightened child’s. “He said he’d kill me. He had that gun and he made me tell him all that I knew. It wasn’t much. You know that. I don’t really know anything.”
“I knew those goddamn plaques were a bum idea. For God’s sake, who ever heard of a secret organization that gave its members fucking plaques to put on the wall? I should have had them all destroyed three years ago.”
Game Bet Page 15