“No, we can’t,” Gleason said. “On the other hand, though, we can’t get a counsel room because the guard looked in his book and he didn’t find my name after your name as your lawyer.”
“Hey,” Walker said, “sorry ’bout that, man. I had, I’ve been having visitors lately, want to see me private? Makes the other cons nervous. Other cons get nervous, I get nervous. I like to sleep on my stomach, close my eyes when I drift off. Other guys, you know, get nervous, think you’re making deals. Doesn’t matter who goes down, they don’t approve of that.”
“Like who?” Gleason said. “There’s another lawyer on your case, that is fine by me.”
Walker held up both hands. “Hey, no offense, man,” he said, “no lawyers at all. Everything you heard is true — assuming that it was, that is, since I wasn’t there.”
“Christina said you needed a lawyer, and you didn’t have one, and she asked me to come,” Gleason said.
Walker nodded. “Well, then,” he said, “mind’s at ease. That is what is true. Guys coming in to see me, what they were was cops.”
“Now wait a minute,” Gleason said, “my understanding was you wanted to see a lawyer before you saw the cops.”
“Mine, too,” Walker said. “Cops don’t always care ’bout that, what the guy in the joint wants. They just drop by for a chat, any time they like. Yank him out of general pop, shoot the shit a while. Put him back in population — let the guy explain.”
“I see,” Gleason said. “I probably already know the answer to this question, but I’ll ask anyway.”
“Don’t even need the question,” Walker said. “Fellow named Consolo. Came out here back in April, told me what was on the way. Then came back here, middle June, asked me how I liked it. First time: ‘Sam is getting out.’ Second time: ‘Sam’s out. I hear rumors maybe you’d like, you’d like to get out.’ ” He shook his head and laughed. “Strange man,” he said, “a strange man. He thinks Sam’s in England, ’cause my little sister went there.” He gazed directly at Gleason. “You know she went to England, Gleason? Tina tell you that?”
“Yeah,” Gleason said.
Walker laughed again. “Damn,” he said, “that’s something, ain’t it? That is really something. Christina goes to England while I’m waiting on her call, and now Consolo and you both know, and she only just told me.”
“Yeah,” Gleason said.
“You know why she went to England, man?” Walker said softly.
“Yeah,” Gleason said.
“You sure you do?” Walker said.
Gleason sighed. “Oh yeah, I’m sure.”
“To catch another plane?” Walker said. “Isn’t that what she did?”
“Could be,” Gleason said.
“ ‘Could be,’ ” Walker said. “Yeah, right: ‘could be.’ I couldn’t get it out of her, either. I knew what it was, but I couldn’t get her, say it. But I knew what it was. I’ve known Christina a long time. I know how she thinks. Oh, very sly, Christina. Very sly, she is.” He coughed. He mused. “Consolo,” he said, “he asked me, he asked what that meant. ‘That mean Sam’s in England? He went there when he got free?’ ”
“What’d you say?” Gleason said.
“Said nothin’,” Walker said. “Thought plenty. Thought: ‘This guy’s an asshole and I’m making deals with him? He don’t know where she went after she left United States?’ He’s either too stupid to be dangerous, or too dangerous to be stupid, but it’s one the other, and it don’t matter which. Not from where I sit. I got to have a lawyer.”
“He’s neither one,” Gleason said. “Neither stupid nor dangerous. He is what he is. He plays strictly by the rules. If there’s some rule that says he can’t find something out, he doesn’t find it out. That’s all. Just plays by the rules.”
“Then he’s stupid,” Walker said, “and he’s dangerous. That is what I just said. He asked me: Did she tell me where she went when she took off?”
“What’d you say?” Gleason said.
“My friend,” Walker said, “I said nothin’. Just like I’m gonna tell the boys when I go back inside from you. ‘Can’t help if people come to see me, matter who they are. I ain’t goin’ no place, Bro, I am still right here.’ ”
“What’d he say?” Gleason said. “Say to you, I mean?”
“Said he heard a guy I know say I would make a trade,” Walker said.
“Did you say that?” Gleason said.
“Did I say that?” Walker said. “Sure I said that, man. Naturally, I said that. I been in here a long time. Got to find myself a way out. Got to get some air. Feel some sidewalk with my feet. Just do what I please. But I did not say I would deal directly with no cop. All I wanted was to find out, if the deal was there. And that is why I asked Christina, what I asked her to.”
“Okay,” Gleason said, “you asked her, and she asked me, and now here I am. Wherever she went, in between. And I’m willing to abide by your decision. Christina asked me to come and see you, and I’ve done that. But I can’t do much, I’m not your lawyer. And I’m not your lawyer now. Makes you nervous, take me on, that is fine by me. If you’re satisfied the attempt’s been made, then I certainly am satisfied, and we can leave it at that.”
“You understand my position,” Walker said. “John Bigelow and I, I haven’t seen him, or heard from him, in years.”
“I understand,” Gleason said.
“I’m going to,” Walker said, “if I go through with this thing, I’m going to need a lawyer. Because I’ve been fucked over before by the law. As you know because you did it. And I learned from that, I did. I need somebody looking out for my ass outside. While I look out for it, inside. They got a habe on me for Wednesday.”
“That’s fast,” Gleason said. “Without a deal, they’re habing you? Why they doing that?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Walker said, “but it doesn’t make me glad. I think, what I think is that they’re gonna try to get what I got, without making me a deal.”
“Well,” Gleason said, “not going to do them any good, get you immunity. They can throw contempts at you for the next ten years, and with the time that you’ve still got, hell difference does it make? You can sit there like a stone, and smile and smile and smile.”
“Yeah, I can,” Walker said, “but I don’t want to do that. And also, the minute I go out of here that day, talk is gonna start. Talk that won’t do me much good. Talk could get me killed. So, they’re bringin’ me in anyway, I should have my deal. Give the bastards what they want, so they isolate me.”
“Is that what you want me to do?” Gleason said.
“It’s what I want somebody to do,” Walker said. “I hope you’re the guy. You, you knew how to do it, the other side. I hope you still do now. I got to look out for myself. Guys get shanks in their backs in here over cigarettes and candy. There’re guys in here that never heard of the Bolivian Contingent, never heard of Sam, that if they knew what I’m doing, they would stick me just for that. For trading him for me.”
“But you’re prepared to do it,” Gleason said. “Betray the revolution.”
Walker snorted. “Sure I am,” he said. “Revolution betrayed me. I’m sick of it. Everybody else but me, Kathie and Jill, out having a good time. I’m still true to principles? Doesn’t make much sense. I just woke up late — that’s all. My life is going by. Sam isn’t going to help me. Christina, by herself — Christina can’t help me. Only way I make bail from this place is by selling something, and I’ve only got one thing to sell the cops. Which is Sam’s ass. Fair enough. But I don’t want to make the trade, and then find out I gave away the only thing I had, without getting something back.”
“Reasonable,” Gleason said. “You need someone you can trust. So: why pick me to trust? Like you say, I’m the guy that put you in. I’m the guy that’s in the process, losing a big federal case. You say you’re not sure you trust me, and yet I’m just the guy you picked? Then why’d you say: ‘Come and see me.’ Why did you do that?”
“So, why not do that?” Gleason said. “Ask your mother for some money. Hire a guy that you’re sure you trust, can trust to get you out.”
“Because I don’t want to, Mister Gleason,” Walker said. “My mother is an asshole. I got in here without any help from her. I plan on getting out the same way. Right now, I’m sitting here, I owe a full fourteen years, the State. Good behavior time’s all gone, all the self-defense I’ve done, and I am rotting here. But I’m not looking to get out and owe the next thirty, my mother. I’m getting out without any help from any goddamned reactionaries. Fucking fascist pigs.
“Think of me as the trader,” Walker said. “What I want is out. What I got’s two things to trade: Sam Tibbetts and my sister.”
“I’m with you part of the way,” Gleason said. “The cops’ll deal for Sam. But who you trading your sister to?”
“You,” Walker said.
“Me,” Gleason said.
“Yeah,” Walker said, “you. You got a marriage sucking brown air. Christina told me that, man, a whole long time ago. You’re about as happy as a big snake in the snow. Unhappy man’ll do things. You’ve done them before. And you’ve done them with my sister, which I didn’t like a lot then, but I do know that you did.”
“Yes,” Gleason said.
“So that’s the deal,” Walker said. “Her pussy for my life. My life out of here.” He laughed. “That’s a better offer’n you get, most your clients, I bet. Christina Walker’s cunt, just for making a few calls?” He laughed. “You really like that girl’s ass, don’t you? You’d do anything for that. Get inside those little panties, stick your cock in her.”
“I don’t have to sit through this,” Gleason said.
Walker laughed again. “Course you don’t,” he said. “You can get up and leave. You are a free man. You can stand up on your back legs and say: ‘Well, that’s it, nigger. Stay and do what you’re gonna do. Another fourteen years or so. That is: if you live.’ But you’re not gonna do that, are you? No, indeed, you’re not. You made a deal, my baby sister. And why’d you make that deal? Because old Christina, she knows what makes you happy. She knows how to get to you. And she did that the other night. Down at the motel. What’s the room number again? Number four, is it? You saving water in the shower, taking one together? They get the dirty movies, there, the cable television? Does Christina know what you like? Does she? Tell me, huh, does she?”
Gleason did not say anything. Walker leaned toward him. “Now you listen to me, white boy. You just listen to me good. There’s only one thing in this world that I want, and that’s Out. Out of this fucking place forever, fast as I can go. I need some promises to do that, someone ride my horse. I need someone to deal for me, with this fucking crazy cop. Only thing I can tell you’s that Christina will deliver. She really seems to like your cock, though that’s not saying much — she’s liked a lot of them. Just like her lovely mother, who’s so smooth and so refined. There’d be a bounty on those women if they didn’t fuck. How long she will deliver?” He shrugged. “That I do not know. But you will get your piece of ass. You will have your fun. You negotiate for me, you will have to lose her, or she will lose herself. Which of those two things comes first? That I do not know. But you should have a nice ride. Which is better’n I’ve got.”
“Brrr,” Gleason said.
“Ah, come on, what is different?” Walker said. “What the hell’s the difference between what you did to me and what I’m offering today? It’s all a fucking goddamned deal. That’s all it ever is. Cut the fucking deal, man, all right? Cut the fucking deal. Talk the people that you got to. Make sure it goes down. Locate Sam and let ’em get him. Then I will get out. Everything is hunky-dory. Everything is fine.”
JULY 28, 1985
40
Florence Amberson Walker was accompanied from the first-class cabin of British Caledonian flight 222 (JFK International to Gatwick) to the EEC gates of British Immigration shortly before 8:05 in the morning. She wore a grey silk Ungaro coat dress and a small round matching hat. She presented her UK passport in the name of Florence Amberson and was waved through. Outside Immigration a tall man in a grey uniform advanced toward her. “Mrs. Walker,” he said, “so nice to see you again.” He offered his arm.
She took it gratefully. “Wonderful to see you, Kenneth,” she said, “I’m afraid I’m getting old.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re looking wonderful.”
She rapped him lightly on the forearm. “Lies, Kenneth, lies,” she said. “You always were a liar. Or your eyes are going bad. I’m absolutely tottering. God, and to think I used to do this as a matter of course. The most primitive equipment, hours and hours in the air, propellers drumming away, stopping at Gander to refuel, and arrive fit for a scrum.” She sighed. “No more, Kenneth. No more. Those days are past me now.”
He patted her left arm with his left arm. “Well,” he said, “into the car then, settle down. I shall have your things in order and we’ll be on our way to a good lie-down for you.”
“Sounds wonderful,” she said. She dozed most of the way to London in the red leather back seat of the Daimler limousine, now and then sputtering a ladylike snore that made the chauffeur smile. Coming into Knightsbridge near the Barracks he adjusted the radio to concentrate the sound in the rear compartment, and very gradually increased the volume until she stirred, opened her eyes and then sat up. She flexed her facial muscles and rubbed her hands together. At The Dorchester Hotel she was ready to emerge smiling when the doorman opened the car. “Mrs. Walker,” he said. “Lovely to have you back.”
“Lovely to be back, Dennis,” she said. “Lovely to be back.”
“It really is the most ghastly thing,” Florence Walker said to Claire Naisbitt at tea in the hotel lobby at 4:30 P.M. Most of the tapestried chairs, couches and low tables were occupied: Americans with greying temples determined to be young wore dark blue jogging suits, tight jeans and running shoes; dark men from the Middle East swept through in white robes, their ladies in silk dresses. Three German men in severe dark suits sat near a rose marble pillar and drank red wine. At the far end of the lobby, a pianist in black tie overlaid the conversations with medleys from “Cats,” “Guys and Dolls,” and “Showboat.”
“There was never any trouble in the old days,” Florence said, “booking a flight on short notice. And there were nowhere near as many of them, then. But now, now with all these damnable students, and tourists, and families with little children absolutely choking the facilities, crowding onto the planes with their baggage and their brats, probably their dogs and cats — even if you did want to spend the whole night listening to their racket, you can’t do it. Because you can’t get on. No matter whom you call. And you have to fly first class — it’s the only thing that’s open. And you have to fly at night, because the day flights are all jammed. The businessmen seize those. Do you know, do you know that the Concorde was full? I tell you, Claire, I was tempted. I truly was tempted. When Christina called me yesterday — no, Saturday, it was — when Christina called me Saturday and dropped her little bombshell, I was actually tempted to ring you up and do it that way. Save this dreadful trip.”
“Well,” Claire said, “damned good thing you didn’t, Florence. Damned good thing, I’d say.” She wore a pale blue silk dress with pearls at her neck, a rose silk hat on her head and a grey flowered scarf on her shoulders. She spread strawberry preserve and crème fraîche on a scone. “They’re all microwave relays now, all the lines are, as if the cables weren’t bad enough. Might as well send a cable, you want everyone on both sides to know what your business is.”
“It was still an ordeal,” Florence said. She drank tea. “It was still an utter ordeal.”
“I’m sure it was,” Claire said. “Neville said, when I
told him I was coming down, he went into his usual performance, stamping feet and growling — What were the Fobeses to think, after we’d promised we’d come — and I had to say to him: ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Neville, do try to be sensible. If Florence thinks it’s enough of an emergency that she’s flying the Atlantic like this, it’s a hell of a lot more important than the bloody damned Fobeses and their bloody dinner party. Now shut up and go yourself, and make excuses for me.’ ”
“Well,” Florence said, “still, I am sorry to disrupt your schedules like this.”
“Nonsense,” Claire said. “The only reason he was angry is that he didn’t want to go himself, but he lacked an excuse. I was getting out of it and he didn’t have a way.” She picked up her teacup and sat back in her winged chair. “Now,” she said, “tell me. Tell me everything.”
Florence lifted her hands and dropped them in her lap. “Claire,” she said, “it’s such a nuisance. Such a damned nuisance. The effort we go to, to deceive the children into believing they’ve managed to deceive us, so they won’t just make things worse? It’s perfectly exhausting. Now here’s Christina, all bound and determined that she’s going to make this glorious sacrifice of her peace and quiet, in order to perform a noble gesture for her brother. Which will of course be at the expense of everybody else’s peace and quiet, meaning Clayton’s and mine — and God knows, there’s little enough of that as it is.”
“Clayton’s still not well?” Claire said.
“Clayton’s drinking too much, Claire,” Florence said. “He’s drinking far too much. Over the years the accumulation of things has simply become too much for him, and now he’s tired and wants his rest. But the heart attack didn’t kill him. He trained his colleagues too well. They knew exactly how to save him. They assumed that’s what he’d want. And at the time, he probably did. But if he’d been downed away from home, almost anywhere else in the world, and just allowed a few painful hours for matters to proceed too far, he would’ve had some peace. Far more than he’s had since.
Outlaws (Vintage Crime/Black Lizard) Page 35