by Jack Womack
"What if you hadn't had Stella under the desk?" I said, taking another drink; it didn't taste nearly so bad by the third swallow. "That would have surprised you, I think."
"Why do you think I had her go under there?" he asked, rocking backforth on his heels as his son had so often done. "You heard a few details, then. Well, I knew somethin' was up. I'd of found out one way or the other."
"You'd have found out when it blew."
When he laughed, he looked at me as if happy to have me home after a long absence. "You never lose your sense of humor, do you? That's a good thing. There's nothin' that gets you through life better'n a sense of-"
"Mister Dryden had been planning to kill you for four days," I said, anxious that he might get on with whatever tricks he wished to play; hoping that he might be quick about it, doubtful that he would be. "How long have you been planning to kill him?"
"Oh, 'bout a year or so. He started gettin' kinda problematic, but I guess I don't have to tell you that. Avalon picked up on it, all right. Now if he'd just stuck to doin' those reckers like they was goin' out of style-and I must of told him a million times, sell 'em, don't do 'em-that would've been one thing. I'd of still had to take him out of his position 'cause he was really startin' to lose my money, and toward the end he started schemin' business deals like a junkie tryin' to buy a plane cause he heard that clouds are made of smack. But no, he had to set out on his own way, tryin' to get into places he didn't belong, tryin' to find out things he didn't want to know and knew he didn't want to know. Got mad at me when I wouldn't let him go on with his shit. So he decided he was gonna get me. Must have wanted to for years, down deep, O'Malley. I bided my time to see. Didn't want to overreact unless I had to. "
"So he was after you and you were after him."
"That's about it."
"I know what his plans are-" Were, I repeated to myself; were.
"I'd hope so."
"What were yours?"
"Let me freshen that drink for you," he said, pouring another draft into my glass. "How's that?"
"Fine. You were saying-"
"I wasn't but I will. It was so simple. I hunched that some thing was up soon. When Stella found that blaster under there I knew right off I was gonna have to move fast-not lettin' him know, of course. He didn't waste any time layin' the blame on you two, but I guess that wouldn't surprise you. So I threw him off the track first by sendin' out a bunch to get ahold of you. Let him think that was as far as I was takin' it."
"He said you threatened him."
The Old Man paused in his ramblings, as if to consider how best to phrase the next anecdote. His smile remained so benign as it had been when I entered.
"Hell, O'Malley, you know lately you could say hello to him and he'd think it was a threat. In any case I got the Army to send a few out after you."
"Why the Army?"
"Cause I figured they'd be about as effective catching you as they were. I knew I'd need you later the way things were shapin' up, but I knew it wouldn't look right unless I tried to get you. So-'
"What if they'd caught me, though?"
He laughed. "I'd've worked it out," he said. "But I knew they wouldn't. So I could put you to good use."
"Without my knowing it."
"Would it have made you happier if you'd known?" he asked. "Delegatin' your work force is the key to success, you know. Now I had a hunch you'd get back together with him at some point and I knew eventually that he'd be back after me. I'd be kinda more ready for you, next time, at least. But then luck started comin' into it. Amazin' how well things work out sometime if you just stand back and let 'em roll."
"And what luck did you have?" I asked, looking at Avalon. I became aware, I thought, of what had happened as he went on, but even so I wouldn't say that I hated her for it, then-for hate you need so much understanding as you do for love, if only two people are involved, and I could not understand why she'd done as she did. Her face revealed no sign, augured no wisdom; whatever she kept incog within her did not even break the surface.
"Once Avalon snuck out of wherever it was you all were hidin' she gave Jimmy a call. He came over from Downtown and picked her up. She was here probably before you even woke up. She told me what she'd left behind for you to find. Said she knew you'd be sure to be in touch with him about it. Had an idea of what sorta mood you'd be in when you saw him."
Jimmy ignored us all; stood looking out one of the unshuttered windows, gazing out over the grounds.
"She was right. When I heard what she'd done I knew you'd take care of my problem for me. Saved me all kinds of trouble, O'Malley. I'm in control again. The company's safe. I'm safe. You're a helpful man, specially when you don't realize it."
"What if he'd have killed me?" I asked. "What if we'd both come up here this afternoon?"
"I know my son, too, O'Malley," he said. "I knew there'd be no danger of either of those things happenin'."
Having dusted, once again, the candy in the big window, I knew that I would shortly be sent along, so as not to mess the display by lingering. To say that I was disheartened at that moment would be an understatement of the most overstated kind. I did retain a choice still over what question I might next ask, whether or not I received an answer, and so spoke to Avalon.
"Did you ever mean anything you said?"
She said nothing; turned, as if hoping that by not answering, she might disappear.
"Better to've loved and lost than never loved at all, O'Malley. That's what I always say. See what I mean, though, overall? No matter how smart. Always somethin' stupid pops up. You should've just headed out to that plane on Saturday, son."
"I know," I said.
"I'm still curious 'bout a couple things, though," he said. "Did he put up a fight?"
"No," I said. "Renaldo did."
"They're so fuckin' wired. You took care of both of 'em then?"
"Took care of Renaldo. "
"What did you do to---
"I didn't."
The Old Man's eyes appeared to unfocus, as if by blurring his vision he might lose sight of something already spotted.
"How'd you mean?" he asked.
"He killed himself."
"No. How?"
"Had some of Jake's poison. Took it."
"Why? What were you doin' to him-?"
"Nothing," I said. "I told him I was coming up here and that he was coming with me."
"But why'd he do a fool thing like-"
"He was scared."
The Old Man, appearing thoughtful, as if wondering how best to arrange his features as he spoke, walked over to his desk again, sitting down behind it. He rested his hands before himself, folding them together.
"Scared of what?" he asked.
"Scared of what you keep in those filing cabinets, I believe."
At once I knew I had him, in some way; that even if I lost Avalon-and to judge from her bearing, and from what she had done, I knew that I had-I might at least retain some small control over my own end. The Old Man's face lost just enough color to indicate that this was a subject he hadn't expected to arise.
"Well now, what'd he think I keep in there?" he asked, his voice even, and daubed thin with reason's paint.
"He mentioned one thing in particular," I said. "It sounded quite interesting."
Had the Old Man known for certain that his late son knew nothing of his secrets, he would have popped my increasing smugness lest it overwhelm the room; he didn't. As I stood there, I became aware that either Mister Dryden had known considerably more about this than he'd let on to me, or that he genuinely hadn't, but had only led the Old Man enough along so as to make him believe that he had. I rubbed sweat off my forehead; my head's wound stung.
"Did it," said the Old Man. "What'd it concern?"
"Generalities," I said, "and specifics. Depended."
"What'd he tell you, O'Malley?"
"What he knew," I said. "I'd think there's more. You might know. "
"You've probably got e
nough there to make a good story," said the Old Man. "Shame nobody'd ever hear it."
"They could read it," I said, finding the time right to remold such truth as I held into a more pleasing form. "He wrote some of it down for me. Signed it and everything, before he-"
"You don't happen to have it on you, I suppose," said the Old Man.
"Afraid not," I said, wondering if anything in my face, or in my voice, would give me away. "It's in a safe place where it'll eventually turn up."
The Old man appeared pensive-frighteningly so. The most awful gleam alit his eyes as if from within. "Well, he took things a little further than I thought he would."
"Far enough," I said.
"You'd need some support, of course, for a story like that," he said. "Elsewise it'll just be written off as the product of an overactive 'magination."
"Maybe not," I said.
"But probably so," he said. "You'd probably want to check around and see if you could dig up any proof that might be lyin' around, wouldn't you?"
"It'd be a good idea, I think."
He reached into his trousers pocket; I could tell that he wasn't pulling out any sort of weapon, and so my fear began to lessenslightly.
"Why don't you have a look, then?" he said, tossing a ringlet of keys at me; I caught them, nearly dropping them onto the floor, my hand shook so. "No tellin' what you might find in there. "
"In those cabinets?"
"Go check it out if you're so curious. I don't mind."
I held the keys in my hand; looked at the filing cabinets. He looked quite at peace and held my stare with ease. "Seriously?" I asked.
"Pandora's box, O'Malley. Open 'er up and stand back."
I walked over to the filing cabinets, unlocked the top drawer of the first one on the left, anf pulled it out. It emerged with difficulty, as if the tracks had lacked oil for years. The Old Man continued staring at me, his mouth kept in a tight smile. Avalon and Jimmy looked on.
"Go ahead. Most of 'em don't bite too hard anymore. Lost most of their teeth, over the years."
The file was stuffed tight with manila folders and printouts housed in black boxes. There were dossiers, and notebooks, and videocassettes protected by soft plastic cases. Tugging out a folder, I flipped through it, thumbing the contents to see what sort of things he might have here.
"You look disappointed, son," he said, "What'cha got?"
The label on the folder said OSWALD, LEE H. An autopsy report inside was dated 1979.
"Just keep lookin'," said the Old Man.
As I skimmed the files, working through them at ever-greater speed, I began developing the concept that history, as it had been taught to me, was evidently a romance and not a science. All I saw seemed oddly skewed, as if I viewed it while dreaming. I extracted a large file in the Q documents concerning the history of their discovery and warrants of their authenticity. It always seemed to me that I remembered when they had been found, but that seemed not to be the case; according to the papers I read, they'd been discovered in the early 1950s. The original intention seemed to have been never to release them to public knowledge. Enclosed in the file, toward the end, were several reports detailing events during the Christian period, and at last, several letters to the president from the Old Man-looking more closely I saw that they were transcripts of conversations between them, and not missives at all.
"How did you get in on this?" I asked, reading. "The Q documents, I mean."
He settled back in his chair, tilting his head to one side as if a new angle might help his memory flow. "That bastard Charlie," he said, referring to the president of that day. "Dumbest sonofabitch ever to sit in the White House and that's sayin' somethin'. See, when he was runnin', he thought he'd get a wider power base if he sucked up to all the preachers and their friends in order to get elected. Too many of 'em wanted to run for office themselves and this way he figured he'd undercut 'em. Well, he did. Only problem then was that once he was elected he had to start followin' up on everything he said. His sense of morality always came out at the worst time."
Among some, the Long Island accident had been seen as the last word of Godness's warning before It chose to settle matters once and for all. Enough in the Congress-at the urging, and with the connivance of, the president-were coerced into drawing up and passing what were even then known unofficially as the God's Country acts.
"They passed some useful laws because of it, I'll grant 'em that, especially the ones havin' to do with real estate. But then they got more serious and started causin' me all kinds of trouble. Interferin' with my sources of income, that sort of thing. They were pretty fuckin' wired when it came right down to it. "
The right to vote would have been restricted solely to those who announced a belief in the Christian God. For a short time, divorce and remarriage were ruled illegal. The courts could do no business as the lawsuits mounted. Criminal laws were strengthened immeasurably. Day-care centers were outlawed for contributing to the destruction of the family unit. Social Security was abolished; on the one hand, it caused the citizenry to ultimately put its trust in the state and not in Godness, and, more to the point, by its abolition great funds were made available for the new military excursions the government wished to begin, especially after political relations with Russia fell apart. Problem areas such as New York were marked for special attention by minions of the Lord.
"It got fuckin' ridiculous. Couldn't walk down the street without gettin' hassled by a bunch of no-mind imbeciles. Stuffin' tracts in your hands. Then they started gettin' even worse, I mean those posters-"
The faithful began beating the Lord into those who preferred not to listen. The heathen reacted in like fashion. As the jihad escalated, all proportion vanished. Christians burst into banks and chopped the hands off moneylenders. Pagans caught and nailed latter-day martyrs to trees in Central Park.
"Conductin' business in a normal fashion became impossible," said the Old Man. "So I put some of my boys inside the government to work on it. Found out about those Q documents. Now Charlie was seein' what was happenin' to the economy while this shit was goin' on and he couldn't get anybody to shut up long enough to listen, except people like me, of course, and we'd already seen what was happenin'-"
Looking over some of the files in those drawers, I could see what had happened. Theological debates had proved so absorbing for that year and a half that no attention had been paid to anything else. America had advisers in five separate wars-in those days it was unusual, I inferred, for the government to spend more than half its budget on defense-no one had bothered to raise taxes of any kind, and the deficit had doubled in ten months. The gains made in eliminating Social Security were swallowed by the interest payable on those debts.
"So I told 'em, I said, you let those things get out or you look forward to another civil war. He finally started seein' things my way, Charlie did, and so they released 'em. Things quieted down real quick after that, for a couple of months anyway. I still feel E mighta been workin' through me on that one," the Old Man said, a trace of wistfulness staining his voice.
I replaced those files, began looking through others.
"Where did you get all of this?" I asked, amazed at the quantity so much as at what the documents contained.
"Night before the market crashed I was down in Washington tellin' Charlie what to do about that, too. He did some of it. Dumb sonofabitch. "
"He gave it to you?"
"In a sense," said the Old Man. "After he tried to leave town."
Prices began going up faster and faster during the Christian period, for a variety of reasons no one fully understood; the trade balance tilted wildly. Imports flood the nation's markets at higher and higher cost to the buyers. Companies went bankrupt within months simply trying to keep up with pay adjustments for their executives. Unemployment rose to 15 percent and continued to climb. The market began to fall.
"I'd wanted to settle a few things before it all started comin' down. I'd been told the revaluation, o
f course, was set for the next day, but the public didn't know. Worked out fine for me but I knew it was gonna cause a certain amount of trouble when I found out how they were goin' to do it."
The morning the currency revaluation was announced, the stock market plummeted a thousand points. Eight hundred million shares were traded-nearly all sold winding up exclusively in the hands of the Old Man, who, through executive barter, was able to keep companies going under his or under other's control by dealing with hard materials rather than the now-worthless money.
"I tried to tell Charlie that, but he knew it all. You couldn't tell him shit. Damn dumb bastard."
I remember my father attempting to explain it to me by showing me a hundred-dollar bill and saying that it was now worth a dollar.
The Old Man snorted with laughter, reliving old times. "He ran like a sonofabitch when he saw what was happenin'. Thought he'd hide out in the Virginia caves till it all blew over."
The president's copter, that afternoon, was forced down shortly after takeoff-by Air Force jets, some histories claimed-near the Jefferson Memorial. He was drawn out by the penniless multitude and lynched.
"For a while there it looked like it was all gonna go. Made a lot of people awful mad. I guess some of 'em still are. It was kind of rough there for a while."
Mothers sold their babies for food. Sixty-year-old men joined the Army so they could support their families. People dug up graves to scavenge gold fillings. For the whole of the Goblin Year, such was commonplace among the unprepared.
"I was prepared, though. The Veep stayed behind and when he heard how his boss'd wound up he nearly shit. I knew I had that little fucker's balls in my pocket right there. Started layin' it out for him. Told him to get the fuckin' Army mobilized, keep it mobilized, and keep it happy. I hadn't been fuckin' around in South America so long not to know that. Told him everything that he had to do, and that little fuck woulda turned on me later if I hadn't taken those files along. Told him, long as I'm here, let me pick up a few things for safekeepin'. These were the files they kept in the vaults under the While House."