“Hey, what the hell is this?” he asked, the cocky smile starting to fade. “What you talking about?”
“This is the future for you,” Tony said, holding up the federal warrant along with his handcuffs. “Bring your toothbrush.”
7:06 P.M.
When Tony had tried to back out of having dinner at Arlene’s place, she became very insistent. Finally he acquiesced, and went home for some much needed rest. But all he’d had time for was a twenty minute combat nap. When his alarm had gone off he felt more than ever like turning it off and going back to sleep. But it was better to get it over with, he thought. On the drive north to Skokie he rehearsed in his mind what he was going to say to put an early end to the evening and to any designs that Arlene might have on him. He’d thought it through, and the age difference was just too great. To think otherwise would be making a fool of himself. An old fool.
He stopped at a corner Seven-Eleven and bought one of those generic bouquets. Something nice, but not overly romantic. Just a polite thank-you-for-having-me-over sort of thing. As he pulled up by her apartment building, Tony was already formulating an assortment of excuses to make an early exit, not the least of which was how bone-weary he actually felt. He sighed heavily as he rang her doorbell and pushed through the buzzing security door. Arlene lived on the third floor of a three-flat, and Tony dragged his feet going up the stairs. He was almost considering not even staying for dinner at all, just explaining how dead tired he was. He gently rapped on the door.
Arlene opened it and smiled. He handed her the bouquet as she opened the door further.
“Oh, Mother,” Arlene said, smelling the flowers. “Look at the beautiful flowers that Tony brought us.”
Perplexed, Tony glanced over her shoulder and saw an attractive woman smiling at him. She had Arlene’s eyes, and her smile, too. But she was a generation closer to his age.
“Tony, this is my mother, Grace,” Arlene said, then leaning close, added in a low whisper, “and she’s unattached.”
The woman held out her hand and Tony took it in his. She had Arlene’s face, he could see that now, and the same classic lines of her body, which had been softened slightly by time and motherhood. But all in all, he thought, she was just about the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in ages.
“I’m afraid,” Arlene’s mom said, shaking Tony’s hand, “that my daughter inherited all of my late husband’s brashness.”
Tony just grinned, and suddenly realized that he didn’t feel quite so tired after all.
CHAPTER 21
Friday, April 24, 1992
9:25 A.M
Linc waved through the tinted window of the bus at his uncle, but it was so dark that he wasn’t sure if Henry could see him from the outside. He watched as the big man grinned, waved, then turned and walked slowly back toward the escalators that would take him back up to street level. Linc saw Henry pause and wave once more before stepping on the metal stairs and rising out of sight. Settling back in the seat, Linc adjusted the earphones of his Walkman. In this immense subterranean cavern of the downtown Greyhound Bus terminal, all he could pick up clearly was one of those all-news AM stations and a lot of static. The announcer was talking about the apparently successful efforts now being completed to stem the floodwaters coming from the tunnel system. At the mention of the tunnels his mind began spinning through the events of the past week and all that had happened: getting out of jail, testifying before the Federal Grand Jury, the final talk with Diane, Uncle Henry in the clear, Mr. Faulkner pulling some strings to get Linc reinstated in the Marine Corps, and the relief that he felt now that the worst of it was over.
Oh, sure, he’d have to come back and testify again, once the Costelli trial started, but that wouldn’t be a problem since he was working for the Gee now. Be good to have the government fly him back to Chicago so he could see Uncle Henry and everybody. He thought of Diane and how everything had gone from bad to worse for them in this past week. Maybe they’d been through too much. Maybe, after they’d had some time apart. . . He shook his head. No, it was probably better that it was over with between them.
The darkened cement walls of the terminal reminded him of his and Rick’s descent into the tunnel system during the heist. He shut off the Walkman and removed the earphones. Rick. If only that damn white boy had made it, too, he told himself. Then they’d both probably be riding this bus back to Camp Pendelton now. His thoughts drifted back to the funeral with Rick laid out in his dress blues, and Linc felt his eyes misting over. He’d personally shined up all his friend’s brass and spit-shined his shoes too, before giving them to Rick’s uncle to give to the undertaker. Even though all of the uniform wasn’t visible with the casket half closed, Linc felt that it was the right thing to do. He’d wanted Rick to look straight when he went up to them pearly gates.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” the woman next to him was saying. She was an older black lady with grayish hair pulled back into an unpretentious bun, and small gold-colored glasses that rested halfway down on her nose. Linc glanced at the newspaper page she was reading. “Ain’t this flood terrible,” she said. “Sure done closed this city down for a spell.” She looked at him and smiled pleasantly.
Linc smiled back.
“Are you all right, young man?” the lady asked.
“Yeah, I mean, yes ma’am,” Linc said, quickly rubbing his eyes. “I was just thinking about a real good friend of mine. He just passed.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. Her lips firmed up. “But he is in the Lord’s hands now.”
She looked at him for a few moments more, then turned her attention back to her newspaper.
“We’ve certainly got enough people out of work to begin with, without this flood coming along and closin’ more things down,” she said.
The big diesel engine began to rumble to life. The driver closed the door, and the bus lurched forward.
“’Course, to look at things down here, you wouldn’t even know there was any flooding, would you?” the woman continued.
“No, ma’am,” said Linc, thinking that it was going to be a long, long trip to California.
“’Course, things ain’t always what they appear to be,” she said, flipping the page on her paper. “Things can look mighty calm, but swirling down deep, there’s always some trouble brewing. Still waters run deep, but remember, the Bible says, ‘all thy billows and thy waves passed over me. . . yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.’”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She folded her paper in half, set it down on her knees, and turned to look at him. He saw that on her lap was a well-worn King James Bible. Digging in her purse, she took out a religious tract from a Baptist church and handed it to him.
“Here, young man,” she said. “Something for you to read on the way. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Linc, taking the pamphlet and smiling to himself.
“Sometimes the Lord puts us through some trying times, before He shows us the light,” she said. She adjusted the newspaper on her lap and opened the Bible.
Not wanting to encourage any further conversation, Linc turned his face toward the window, catching sight of his reflection on the glass. The bus pulled onto the darkened, winding ramp that took them through an extended tunnel, before emerging up onto Clark, and into the brightness of the April sunshine.
A long journey, he thought. A helluva long one just to end up in practically the same place he’d started. And this time without Rick. Towards A New Past, he thought, remembering the title of a book he’d studied in high school. But at least he was getting another shot at zeroing in on the brass ring. And that was all a professional grunt like him could really ask for.
“Amen to that,” the woman said aloud, tracing her finger over one of the biblical passages.
Linc adjusted the seat slightly, placed the earphones of the Walkman back on his head, and began once again to try and tune in an FM station. As the bus merged into traffic and b
egan to pick up speed, he finally got one to lock in.
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