As they approached the entrance, two security guards in dark blue uniforms stepped out of the shadows. They were both wearing mirror sunglasses, so that as they came up to him, all Bryan could see in their eyes was a distorted reflection of himself, with his committee standing behind him.
‘Help you?’ asked one of the security guards. His cheeks were cratered with acne, like the moon.
‘Bryan Johnson, chairman of the Muscupiabe Neighborhood Association. These good people are my committee. We’ve come to see Governor Smiley.’
‘Governor Smiley is not here, sir.’
‘Yes, he is. We saw him on TV less than an hour ago, and he was here.’
‘Sorry, sir. I’m afraid that you’re mistaken.’
Myron stepped forward in his blue golfing cap and his flappy blue shorts and said emphatically, ‘He’s here, young man. Or he was here. I recognized the room he was in.’
‘Sorry, sir. I’m not at liberty to tell you whether he was here or not. The governor’s movements are strictly confidential.’
Bryan said, ‘We’re elected representatives. We have a right to see him.’
‘Sorry, sir. Security.’
It was then that Luis said, ‘Bryan … do you see what I see?’
He tugged Bryan’s sleeve and pointed to the first green, which was just visible behind the left-hand side of the clubhouse. A sprinkler had suddenly started up, and water was glittering in the air, creating a rainbow.
‘They’re watering the greens,’ said Luis, and his voice was hollow with shock. ‘We don’t have any water to drink, or to cook in, or to wash in, and they’re watering the goddamned greens.’
The other members of the committee stared at the sprinkler, too. Corben said, ‘That is outrageous. I mean that is outrageous!’
Bryan turned to the security guards and snapped, ‘Who’s in charge here? Who’s in charge of this club? I want to talk to the manager.’
‘The manager is not available, sir. I’m sorry.’
‘Then the deputy manager, or the deputy-deputy manager! Or whoever’s in charge of the golf course! The greenkeeper, if I have to!’
‘I’m sorry, sir. There’s nobody here you can talk to.’ The security guard’s tone was completely expressionless, as if he were prepared to say the same thing, over and over, for the rest of the day if necessary, until Bryan and his committee members went away.
‘I don’t believe you for a moment,’ said Bryan. ‘I’m going in there right now and I’m going to find who’s in charge for myself.’
He started to head toward the entrance but the two security guards both took a sideways step and blocked his path.
‘I’m sorry, sir. Members only. Unauthorized access is not permitted.’
‘The media are going to hear about this.’
‘That’s your prerogative, sir. But you and your party are trespassing on private property, and I have to request you to leave.’
Bryan turned around to Luis. ‘Luis! Go take a picture of that green being watered! I want some proof of this!’
He turned back to the two security men and said, ‘Let’s see what Governor Smiley has to say when this appears on the news!’
But the second security man shouted after Luis, ‘Sir! Sir – you’ll have to come back here! Taking unauthorized photographs on country club property is not permitted!’
Luis continued to cross the parking lot and didn’t even turn around.
‘Sir! You have to come back here!’
Luis waved one hand to acknowledge that he had heard him, but kept on going.
‘Sir! This is the last time I’m going to warn you!’ the security guard shouted, and unholstered his automatic. The security guard with the acne took out his gun, too.
‘Luis!’ Bryan called out, in sudden panic. ‘Luis! Do as he says! Luis, they’re going to shoot you if you don’t come back!’
Luis stopped, and raised both hands, although he still didn’t turn around. In his right hand, Bryan could see that he was holding up his cellphone, and he guessed that he was taking pictures of the green, which was now less than twenty yards right in front of him.
‘Drop the cell, sir, and come back here!’ the security guard shouted at him.
Luis hesitated three seconds too long. Bryan thought: forget the darn pictures, Luis, just do as he says! But maybe this was the first time in his life that Luis had done something overtly courageous, and he was intoxicated with it.
The security guard’s gun went off with a deafening bang. Luis clapped his hands above his head and then fell face-down on to the ground, his cellphone clattering on to the ground beside him.
Bryan heard himself crying out, ‘Noooooooo!!’ as if somebody else were shouting in his ears. He launched himself toward Luis, although he felt that he was running in slow motion, and that the air had turned to syrup.
A slurred voice shouted, ‘Sirrrr … staaaay heeeere!’ but he didn’t associate it with himself. All he knew was that Luis had been shot and he needed to reach him as soon as he could.
‘Stop!’ the voice demanded, but this time it was sharp, and quite clear. Bryan stopped, but stumbled, and as he tried to regain his balance he was punched in the back so hard that he was thrown forward on to the tarmac, cracking his left cheekbone and dislocating his left shoulder.
He lay there, with his face against the ground. He could see Luis’ feet, and he could see a window in the side of the golf club with two or three people staring out of it. He could hear the sprinklers going pishety-pishety-pishety, over and over, as if they were trying to soothe him to sleep.
Myron was the last to leave. The two security guards had been joined outside the portico by Joseph Wrack himself, as well as three more security guards from ESS. After Myron had opened the door of his Honda Accord he turned around and gave them all a look of absolute hatred, but he didn’t speak. Like his fellow committee members, he was too shocked and too frightened to disobey their order to leave the country club immediately.
He sat behind the wheel and closed the door. Before he could drive off, however, Joseph Wrack walked over and tapped on his window with his knuckle.
He tapped again, and Myron reluctantly put the window down.
‘Before you go, sir,’ said Joseph Wrack, ‘please remind your friends what I said about trying to contact the media or mentioning what happened here on Facebook or Twitter.’
‘I’m pretty sure they heard you,’ said Myron.
‘Well, good. Because we will very quickly find out if you do. We know who you are and believe me we will take any and all appropriate action.’
‘Appropriate action?’ said Myron. ‘Does that mean shooting us, like our friends here?’
‘Sir – this is a state of emergency and in order to maintain public safety we have the authority to use deadly force. So let’s keep those lips zippered, shall we? Have a safe journey home.’
A white ambulance from American Medical Response was turning into the country club driveway, without siren or red-and-orange lights. One of the security guards directed it to park close to the two men lying on the tarmac. Neither of them had moved since they had been shot, and it was obvious that they were both dead. A long dark runnel of blood ran all the way from Bryan’s body to the drainage grid in the center of the parking lot.
Joseph Wrack raised both eyebrows as if to say, ‘You won’t forget now, will you, my friend?’ Myron closed his window, started his engine and drove away.
‘Paskudnyak,’ he said, under his breath, as he went out through the country club gates. ‘Vi tsu derleb ikh im shoyn tsu bagrobn.’ It was what his grandfather always used to say about people he disliked. ‘May I live long enough to bury him.’
Two paramedics knelt down beside Luis, checking for any vital signs. A few moments later, Governor Smiley came out of the country club entrance, still wearing the white shirt in which he had appeared on TV, but now with a salmon-pink linen coat and raspberry-colored chinos.
‘Your guys really neede
d to do that?’ he asked. ‘I thought you had enough on your plate after this morning. I’ve just had Chief Williams on the phone. He’s deeply upset about the loss of life at the Inland Center, especially Lieutenant Brodie.’
‘Oh, he’s “deeply upset”, is he? So he should be. There was only one person to blame for Lieutenant Brodie getting himself killed and that was Lieutenant Brodie. Chief Williams should realize that this city is totally out of control, and we’re not going to get back the upper hand until the police stop acting like pussies. I always said that Williams was a milquetoast, just like the mayor.’
‘So who were these people?’
‘They both came from the Muscupiabe Neighborhood Association. The fat guy, he’s the chairman. They were trying to force their way into the country club to confront you about their water being shut off and they were threatening physical violence, so my people had no choice. The skinny Hispanic guy was trying to take pictures of the water sprinklers.’
‘Were they armed?’
‘Fat guy was carrying a concealed nine millimeter. We’ll pass it over to the cops when they get here. If they ever get here.’
‘Of course it’ll have his prints on it?’
Joseph Wrack took the panatela out of his mouth and looked pained, as if Governor Smiley had gratuitously questioned his integrity.
Governor Smiley said, ‘OK. It’ll have his prints on it. Stupid of me to ask.’ He squinted across at the paramedics as they draped pale green sheets over each of the bodies and then walked back to their ambulance.
After a moment, he said, ‘Muscupiabe, that’s a real shame.’
‘Why’s that, then?’
‘Well, we only cut off Muscupiabe to show the poorer neighborhoods like Las Plazas that we were being fair, but they won’t be off for more than twenty-four hours, if that. They’re good people in Muscupiabe. All reliable Smiley supporters.’
‘I was going to ask you about that,’ said Joseph Wrack, and his voice sounded even drier than usual. ‘I was wondering why you cut off University Heights. I mean, that’s a pretty affluent area. They must all pay their taxes and their water bills.’
‘They do. You’re right. But in the last election more than eighty-two percent of them voted Munoz.’
‘Oh, so you’re not just punishing the poor. You’re punishing anybody who doesn’t support Smiley.’
‘Of course. That’s what politics is all about. Sticks and carrots. Or, in this case, water or no water.’
‘I see. OK. In that case, I’m glad I voted for you.’
A squad car finally appeared at the end of the country club driveway, closely followed by a brown panel van from the coroner’s office.
‘Any progress with Saskia?’ Governor Smiley asked, as he watched them approach.
‘Not so far. Not since we caught up with them at Wildwood Plaza. My guess is that they hightailed it south-west immediately after that and picked up the Riverside Freeway. That could take them all the way to the coast, and LAX.’
‘Shit. She could be anywhere by now. She could be in New York.’
‘It’s possible. But flights have been very restricted and I’ve had my people checking all of the passenger manifests. No sign of her so far.’
Governor Smiley looked thoughtful. ‘If they were filling up with gas last time they were spotted, maybe they’re headed east, by road. Maybe they’re making for Vegas.’
‘Anything’s possible,’ said Joseph Wrack. ‘But my people are keeping a sharp lookout, don’t you worry. ESS has eyes just about everywhere. We’ll find Ms Vane for you, sooner or later.’
Governor Smiley glanced at him sideways. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But make sure that you do. Saskia Vane owes me a big, big favor; but you know how things can turn out. Sometimes favors can work in reverse.’
‘We’ll find her,’ Joseph Wrack repeated. ‘Have I ever let you down before, Governor?’
Faintly, in the distance, they could hear the drone of a helicopter approaching. A bespectacled young woman in a white blouse and a cream linen skirt came tip-tapping out of the golf club entrance on very high heels. ‘Governor Smiley?’ she said. ‘Your ride is on its way.’
Governor Smiley gripped Joseph Wrack’s right arm and squeezed it hard. ‘Just find the bitch for me, you got it?’
FOUR
Martin was woken up by the cabin door creaking. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, but all he saw was the briefest flicker of a shadow as somebody walked between the cabin and the early-morning sun.
Saskia was gone, and that had probably been her. The opposite bunk was still empty, so Santos must have slept for the rest of the night in his truck.
He dragged his blanket aside and sat up, wincing from the soreness between his legs. He felt as if he had been fighting all night with a pit bull terrier, because his shoulders and his hips were bruised and he was covered in teeth marks. He looked down. His penis was reddened and he even had bites on the insides of his thighs. He had gone to bed with sexually aggressive women before, but none of them had been as fierce as Saskia. He felt that she had wanted to devour him alive.
He slowly dressed. It was only seven fifteen a.m., but even up here in the mountains, more than six-and-a-half-thousand feet above sea level, it was already warm. He buckled up his belt and pushed open the cabin door. The sky was denim blue and the air was fragrant with the smell of pine. A pair of scrub jays were screeching at each other on the opposite side of the clearing.
As he stepped out of the cabin, he saw that Santos was hunkered down beside their makeshift hearth in nothing but his red stripy shorts, lighting a fire. He was skeletally thin, and his skin was stretched over his bones like parchment.
‘Hi, Santos. How are you feeling?’
Santos nodded, without looking up. ‘Much better, much better. The pain comes but then it goes. It is always worse when I get tired.’ He blew steadily on to the sticks that he was using as kindling, and flames began to spring up. Once he was sure that they were well alight, he stood up and looked around. ‘I have to admit to you, Martin, I am glad that this has happened. It has brought me back to the mountains. Otherwise I never would have come here again. My spirit is here. The spirits of my people are here. Here in the mountains is a good place to die.’
‘I think there’s plenty of life in you yet, Kemo Sabay.’
‘“Kemo Sabay”?’ said Santos. ‘Why do you call me “Kemo Sabay”? It was the Lone Ranger who was called “Kemo Sabay”, the white man. The Indian was called Tonto.’
‘Oh, yeah? Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Back in the early days, when it was only a radio show, the Lone Ranger called Tonto “Kemo Sabay” instead of the other way about. It means “trusted scout”, which is what you are. I used to be mad about the Wild West when I was a kid, so you can’t catch me out. See? You’ve learned something, and you’ve been given a compliment, too. That’s a pretty good way to start the day.’
Santos was staring at him with narrowed eyes, his head tilted slightly to one side. ‘That’s a very bad bite on your neck,’ he said.
Martin tugged up his shirt collar to cover it. ‘Mosquito, more than likely. I thought I heard one buzzing around.’
‘Maybe it’s the mountain air,’ said Santos, without a hint of irony. ‘It gives the mosquitoes such an appetite.’
Peta and Ella were coming out of their cabin now; and then Tyler and Mikey. Susan was still inside, dressing George and Mina, but Nathan came out with his shirt buttoned up in all the wrong buttonholes. There was no sign of Rita yet. Martin guessed that she was either sleeping, or suffering from a catastrophic hangover, or else she had already started on her first Budweiser of the day, and didn’t want anybody to see her.
Saskia appeared, however. She had managed to wipe off all of her foundation and her eye make-up and Martin could see what a striking face she had, even if her eyes did look smaller without mascara. She came right up to him and said, ‘Good morning, Martin! Hope you slept well?’
‘Sure, yes.
On and off.’
‘Mmm. Me too. And what dreams I had! What’s for breakfast?’
‘We have bagels, with American cheese if you like,’ said Santos. He bent over and poked around in the cardboard box full of groceries that they had taken from the Chevron food mart. ‘Or here we are – Campbell’s chunky chicken, broccoli, cheese and potato soup. Only one hundred ninety calories. Or a strawberry and wheat flake breakfast bar.’
‘Good God. Any juice?’
Peta and Ella went over to a fallen log on the opposite side of the fire and sat down together. Peta wrapped a blanket around Ella’s shoulders and hugged her. Ella was looking very pale and she was shivering, although the morning was so warm. Martin picked up a carton of cranberry juice and walked across to join them.
‘She’s OK,’ said Peta. ‘She has the cramps, that’s all. I’ve given her some painkillers.’
Ella looked up and gave him the weakest of smiles. ‘I’m all right, Daddy. Really.’
‘You’re sure? Here, drink some of this.’
Peta said, ‘Ella and I were talking last night. We decided that neither of us want to turn back. I know that Tyler wants to keep going, too. It’s not just a question of escaping from the drought, Martin. It’s a question of making a fresh start – bringing our family back together again.’
‘You’re sure about that? I can’t guarantee that I’ve changed all that much.’
Peta looked him directly in the eye. Every time he looked back at her he thought how beautiful she was. He felt as if he needed to look at her all the time, and never turn away, because he didn’t want to waste a minute of his life looking at anybody else. It was hard to believe that he had shouted at her, and slammed doors, and smashed furniture, and thrown her violently across the room.
‘I’ve seen you in the past few days,’ said Peta. ‘I think you’ve changed much more than you know. You don’t take your devils out on other people any more. You face up to them. I don’t think you’ll ever get rid of them. I don’t think that’s possible. But I think that you and I could live together again, or try to, at least.’
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