Spencerville (21 page)

Jeffrey answered, and Keith said, "This is the FBI. You're under arrest for advocating the violent overthrow of the United States government."

"I think you want my wife."

"How are you?"

"Fine. Meant to call you..."

"Are you guys free for dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Your place?"

"Right. About seven."

"Looking forward to it."

"Do me a favor, Jeffrey."

"Sure."

"I'm completely out of food, and my car won't start. Could you guys bring everything?"

"Sure."

"And wine."

"No problem."

"And I need some cash."

"Should we bring the dinnerware, too?"

"No, I've got that. Also, can you cash a thousand-dollar check for me?"

"Sure. Hey, a friend of yours stopped by..."

"Tell me about it later."

"No, you want to hear this now..."

"Later. Thanks." He hung up. Annie. It had to be Annie by the tone of Jeffrey's voice. "Good. She's all right, everything is fine." Which solved the problem of finding out if she was all right, and the Porters would bring food and money, which solved the other problems of the moment. There was something uniquely satisfying about beating the bad guys at their own game, but if he didn't put himself in these situations in the first place, he wouldn't have to get out of them, and he might discover that he'd be just as happy mastering chess.

The Porters arrived twenty minutes late, which for ex-hippies was pretty good. Out on the porch, Keith took a canvas bag of herbs from Gail, and Jeffrey carried a cardboard box filled with plastic containers. Gail said, "I cooked everything. We wouldn't eat for hours otherwise. You only have to heat it."

"I think I have a stove."

Inside, Gail said, "What a charming house. You grew up here?"

"I was born and raised here. I haven't grown up yet."

She laughed, and Keith showed them into the kitchen. They put the food down, and Gail said, "Curry In A Hurry."

"Excuse me?"

Jeffrey explained, "In Antioch, they had this great little Indian carry-out place called Curry In A Hurry, and every time Gail doesn't want to cook now, she says, 'Call Curry In A Hurry.' But I don't think they'd deliver to Spencerville."

"Worth a try. Hey, I'm sorry to put you out like this."

Gail replied, "No problem. You owed us dinner, and we're glad to deliver it for you."

Jeffrey went back to the car for the wine. As Gail and Keith found pots and pans, she said, "We brought jumper cables. Didn't you buy that car new?"

"There's nothing wrong with the car."

"Oh. I thought..."

"I'll explain later."

"Maybe I can guess. The fuzz is harassing you."

Keith began setting the table. "You got it."

"That's disgusting. You have to fight back, Keith."

"It's a long story. If you brought enough wine, I'll tell you."

"Okay."

Jeffrey returned with three bottles of red wine, and Keith opened one. He emptied a bottle into three big water glasses. "The stemware is out being monogrammed. Cheers."

They drank, then sat at the kitchen table, where Gail had set out crackers and some sort of multicolored spread. Keith asked, "What's this?"

"Vegetable pate."

"Looks like Play-Doh. Tastes good."

They drank wine, ate, talked, but clearly there were some unanswered questions at the table. Gail related to Jeffrey what Keith said about the police, and Jeffrey remarked, "You can't stay here trapped like an animal."

Gail inquired, "When is the last time you've eaten?"

"Am I being a pig?"

"Keith, this is not like you," Jeffrey said. "You can't let the police intimidate you."

"It's a long story. Hey, how are the sales of True Confessions?"

"Incredible," Jeffrey replied. "Sold five hundred copies already. They're being passed around, so we can assume a few thousand people have read it. That's a lot of people for a small county. I think we have this guy on the run. In fact, that's what I was going to tell you on the phone. Who do you think shows up at our door and asks to buy a copy?"

Keith sipped his wine. "Who?"

"You have to guess."

"Cliff Baxter."

Gail laughed. "Close."

"Come on," Jeffrey said, "I told you it was an old friend of yours."

"Annie Baxter."

"Bingo! Can you believe that?"

"I can."

Gail said, "That took some courage." She smiled at Keith. "She looked good."

"Good."

"In fact, for a woman whose husband is being exposed as a blackmailer, graft-taker, and adulterer, she seemed pretty cooled-out. Almost cheerful."

"Maybe she's got a boyfriend."

Gail observed, "That could explain her mood."

Jeffrey said, "We gave her the transcript for free, of course, and we invited her in. I was surprised she accepted. She had a cup of tea. It was nice talking to her again. We caught up on old times." He added, "I told her you were back, and she said she'd run into you outside the post office."

"Right."

Gail inquired, "Did you feel a little thump-thump?"

"Sure."

"Well; I wouldn't be surprised if she's on the market soon," Gail said. She added, "You know, I felt a little bad. I mean, we never intended to cause problems for her at home, but I guess that was a natural result of what we had to do to get at him. But he brought it on himself."

"I suppose. If you play, you pay."

"Unless you have an understanding like Jeffrey and I do. No one can come between us with evidence of infidelity."

"That's an interesting observation. But what if one of you fell deeply in love with a lover?"

"Well..." Gail seemed actually uncomfortable, and obviously something like this had happened to one or the other or both, once, twice, or more times. Gail said, "People fall in love across a room. It's actually less likely to happen with casual sex partners." She added, "Love has less to do with sex than with missing a person when they're not around. Didn't you say your heart went thump when you saw Annie? I mean, after twenty-some years, there's still something there. How many women have you screwed since her?"

"Counting foreigners?"

She laughed, then said, "And why hasn't a good-looking man like you gotten married?"

"I should have called Curry In A Hurry."

Jeffrey smiled. "Leave him alone, Gail. This subject obviously bothers him."

"Right," Keith agreed. He asked, "Are the Spencerville cops giving you guys any trouble?"

Jeffrey shook his head. "Not yet. I mean, Gail is a city councilwoman. I think they're waiting until after the election. We'll see who's still standing then."

Keith looked at both of them. "You ought to be careful in the meantime. Baxter is unstable."

Gail and Jeffrey glanced at each other, and Jeffrey said to Keith, "We're watching ourselves."

"Do you have a gun?"

"No," said Jeffrey. "We're pacifists. We get shot at."

"I have a rifle. Let me give it to you."

"No," Jeffrey said. "We won't use it."

"You might if it was in the house, and someone..."

"No. Please respect that, Keith."

"All right. But if you ever need help, give a holler."

"Okay."

Jeffrey got up and stirred the two pots. "Soup's ready."

They had the soup, then a vegetable curry, and were working on the last bottle of wine.

Keith made coffee, and Gail unveiled a carrot cake. Over cake and coffee, Jeffrey said, "Hey, I almost forgot." He put his hand in his pocket and came out with a bank envelope. "There's a thousand."

"Thanks." Keith took a check from his wallet and gave it to Jeffrey, who glanced at it and said, "This is for two thousand."

"That's a contribution to the cause. I never gave money to pinkos before."

Gail smiled. "We can't accept that, Keith."

"Yeah, you can. I don't need the money, and I want to do something."

"You can help us by joining us."

"I could, and I would. But I'm leaving."

Neither of them spoke.

Keith said, "Look, guys, I trust you, and I like you. Also, I may need your help. Ready for the long story?"

They nodded.

"Okay, I returned to Spencerville to go back to the starting line and see if I could run the race over again. Well, you can't do that. The race is over, but you can run a new race. Yeah, I'm beating around the bush. Okay, I'm in love with Annie, and..."

Gail slapped the table. "I knew it! See, Jeffrey, I told you."

"I told you."

"May I? This isn't easy. Anyway, we've been writing for twenty years..."

"I love this. Go on. Does she love you?"

Jeffrey said, "Gail, keep quiet."

"So, anyway, yes, she does, and we're running off. End of story."

"Like hell it is," said Gail. "Have you done it yet?"

"That's not relevant... no, we haven't..."

"Liar. I knew it. See? That's why she was floating on clouds. She asked if we'd spoken to you in the last few days. This is terrific. That pig deserves what he gets. Oh, Keith, I'm so happy for you." She stood and kissed him, which he figured was coming, and Jeffrey followed suit with a handshake.

Keith felt a little impatient and said, "Okay, so that answers a lot of questions for you, and I thought I owed you an explanation of why I couldn't commit to..."

"Hey," Jeffrey said, "you're doing your part by stealing his wife."

"I'm not actually stealing..."

"I always knew you two would get back together," Jeffrey said. "When are you leaving?"

"I can't say. But soon."

"How can we help?"

"Well, for starters, don't say a thing over the phone if we speak. I'm concerned that your phone or mine could be tapped."

"Yeah, they could be. What else?"

"Well, you brought the money, looks like enough food left for a few more days, and maybe Gail could keep her eyes and ears open around city hall."

"I always do. And I have a cop who's a source."

"Good. But don't trust him, either."

"When it comes to revolution, we don't trust too many people."

Keith nodded. "You know the game."

Jeffrey said, "So you're laying low until you... do you call it elopement if she's married?"

"For want of a better word, yes. I'll give you a key to the house, and I'd like you to look after it."

"No problem."

Gail asked, "Where did you do it? How many times? How did you get away with it?"

"We're old pros from high school days." Keith changed the subject and said, "Her husband is generally suspicious, and specifically pissed off at me for coming back here. He came out here last week, and we had some words. But he doesn't really know anything. He did give me a week to get out of town, and that time ends on Friday, but I won't be gone by then. He may come around again, and I'll ask for a few days' extension, because that's less complicated than killing him, which I promised not to do."

They seemed stunned by that remark, and Keith looked at them. "This is serious business. Not a game. He's borderline psychotic. You watch yourselves. The offer of the gun stands."

They stayed silent awhile, then Jeffrey said, "Hey, this is heavy stuff. Mind if I smoke?"

"Go right ahead." Jeffrey took a pouch and papers out of his shirt pocket and rolled one. He lit it with a match and offered it to Keith, who declined, then to Gail, who also declined. He shrugged, sat back, and smoked.

Gail asked, "Do you think Annie is safe?"

"I think so. But I'm getting these vibrations, if I can use that old word, and these vibrations tell me that people have picked up on something, sort of like they're intercepting these signals that go between this farm and Williams Street." Keith smiled. "Blow that smoke away, Jeffrey. I'm sounding like you."

Gail said, "No, I understand. I mean, even we figured something was up. Who else, besides Baxter?"

"Oh, just people. Pastors, and somebody's sister, and nice elderly ladies. I'm probably paranoid, but I'm concerned that Baxter's going to get onto something concrete. I have to ask you guys not to say or do anything that could arouse suspicion. Lay low yourselves until the weekend. Okay?"

"Done."

"If the plan falls apart, I may need you."

"We're here."

"I appreciate it. Hey, Jeffrey, who would have thought we'd be having dinner together again?"

Jeffrey took a toke and looked at him. "Time has healed a lot of those wounds, Keith. I'm glad we lived long enough to get smart."

Gail said, "If this is a prelude to male bonding, I'll go out on the porch."

Jeffrey said to Keith, "She feels threatened. That's why you need a woman, Keith, to balance out the dynamics of our interlocking relationships, and... whatever. Hey, where are you two going to go? Can we join you for dinner someplace?"

"Sure. I'll let you know."

Gail said, "We're going to miss you, Keith. We don't have many friends here."

"Maybe you will after you get rid of Police Chief Baxter."

"I don't think so. But perhaps. Will you come back here someday?"

"I'd like to. Depends on what happens with Baxter."

"Yeah," Jeffrey agreed, "I wouldn't advise you to look for a house on Williams Street for a while." He laughed. "Hey, I'd love to see his fucking face when he comes home and finds a fuck-you note on the refrigerator." Jeffrey got the giggles and slapped the table a few times.

Keith stood. "Let's sit on the porch. The maid will clear."

They sat on the porch and watched the sun go down. No one spoke for a long time, then Gail said, "What an amazing thing, Keith."

"What?"

"Love. I mean, through college, and turmoil, and war, and decades, and distance, and everything that life throws at you. If I were sentimental, I'd cry."

On Thursday morning, Keith woke up not feeling particularly well and didn't know why. By stages, he remembered the Porters being over for dinner, then recalled breaking out the hard liquor and realized why he had a headache and recalled what they had been celebrating.

He got out of bed and opened the window, feeling the cool air rush in. It looked like another sunny day, a good day for the corn, but they could use one more good rain before the harvest.

He walked down the hall in his underwear toward the bathroom and bumped into Jeffrey, also in his underwear. Jeffrey said, "I'm not well."

"You slept here?"

"No, I came back in my underwear to get the Tupperware containers."

"Where's Gail?"

"She went to get us breakfast. You want to use the bathroom?"

"No, go ahead." Keith got his robe and went down the stairs into the kitchen. He washed his face in the sink, found aspirin in the cupboard and took two, then put on a pot of coffee.

A car pulled around to the back door, and Gail came in, carrying a grocery bag. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." He sat at the kitchen table, and Gail unpacked a bottle of orange juice and three corn muffins.

She said, "A police car followed me from here all the way to town."

Keith nodded. He said, "Now they know there's a connection between us. You're on the list."

"Hey, I was on the list before you got here." She sat down and poured a glass of juice for each of them.

Keith sipped his juice. He asked, "Did they pull you over?"

"No, I pulled them over. I got out of my car, identified myself as a councilwoman, and told them to fuck off or I'd have their badges."

"You've become very establishment, Gail. You're supposed to scream about your civil rights."

"They wouldn't know what the hell I was talking about. The only thing that scares them is the thought of losing their guns and their badges."

"Yeah, these cops turned bad. They have a bad boss."

She stayed quiet a minute, then asked him, "Were you serious about killing Baxter?"

"No."

She looked at him awhile, then said, "I was scared out there on the highway."

"I know. I'd like to take care of the problem before I leave, but I promised I wouldn't."

"I understand. Can I ask you... have you ever done that? I mean, I guess in Vietnam..."

Keith didn't reply, but he thought about her question. Yes, he'd killed in Vietnam, but that was in combat. In his early years in intelligence work, he'd literally had a license to kill, but before they'd given him his gun and silencer, they'd given him the rules: There were only two absolute times for killing — in combat and in self-defense. But everyone in America had the same right. His license, however, extended into murkier areas, such as a preemptive kill, if you felt threatened. And it got even murkier than that, like the right to kill in order to remove a great evil, whatever that was. Keith thought that Cliff Baxter was a great evil, for instance, but Mr. Baxter's parents and children might not agree. It was sort of a case-by-case thing, and Keith never had to make the decision by himself, and neither did he have to be the gunman if he had a problem with the committee decision. Here in Spencerville, however, far removed from any restraints or advice, he was on his own.

She said, "Have you thought about the fact that you'll never be really safe as long as he's around?"

"I don't think Cliff Baxter's balls travel well. We'll stay away from his turf."

"Did you ever think he might take out his rage on... well, let's say Annie's family?"

"What are you suggesting, Gail? I thought you were a pacifist."

"Jeffrey is a pacifist. If someone threatened my life, or the lives of my family or friends, I'd kill them."

"With what? A carrot?"

"Be serious. Listen, I feel threatened, and I obviously can't go to the police. I'll take that rifle."

"Okay. I'll get it." He stood, but Jeffrey came down the stairs.

Gail said to Keith, "We'll put it in my trunk later."

Jeffrey came into the kitchen. "Put what in the trunk?"

Gail replied, "The Tupperware."

"Right." He sat down, and they had breakfast.

Jeffrey said, "Hell of a party last night. Glad we could finally celebrate the Landry-Prentis engagement announcement."

Keith asked, "Did you ever wonder what our lives would have been like without the war and the turmoil?"

"Yeah, I thought about that. Dull, I think. Like now. I think we had a unique experience. Yeah, a lot of people got hurt and fucked-up, but most of us came through it okay. We're better people because of it." He added, "My students were totally boring, self-centered, selfish, irresolute, and without character. Christ, you'd think they were Republicans, but they thought they were rebels. Right. Rebels without a clue."

Gail said, "You got him started."

Keith said to Jeffrey, "You remember Billy Marlon?"

"Sure. Goofy kid. An obsessive pleaser, wanted to be everyone's best friend. In fact, I ran into him a few times. I wanted to be nice, for old time's sake, but he's a burnout."

"I ran into him at John's Place."

"Christ, Landry, I wouldn't take a piss in that place."

"I was feeling nostalgic one night."

"Go to the sock hop. Why'd you ask about him?"

"Well, sometimes when I see a guy like that, I say to myself, 'There but for the grace of God go I.' "

Gail commented, "If God's grace existed, there wouldn't be people like that for you to say, 'There but for the grace of God.' "

Jeffrey said, "You got her started. I understand what you're saying, Keith, but I think the Billy Marlons of the world would have gotten fucked-up in any decade. That's not us."

"I wonder."

"Yeah, we're fuckups, but we're functional." He thought a moment and said, "We pulled ourselves out of this place, Keith, you and I and a few others. We weren't born with money like the Baxters, or into a tradition of education like the Prentis family. Your old man was a farmer, mine was a railroad worker. The sixties didn't fuck us up, they broke us loose from convention and class structure." He added, "And we got laid a lot. You know, I once figured out that I probably got laid more than every male and female in my family put together, going back to maybe 1945. I think people got laid a lot during the Second World War, but not before or after."

Keith smiled. "Was that one of your prepared lectures?"

"It was, actually."

"Okay, we had some great times. But as you once said, we did some shitty things then. You sent me a shitty letter, for instance. It's okay. I got the same kind of letters from total strangers. But we all talked love, love, love, and we did a lot of hateful things. Me, too." He added, "When I got your letter, I wanted to literally kill you. I would have if you were there."

"What can I say? We were young. There were solar storms, and Jupiter and Mars were lined up or something, and the price of grass dropped, and we went totally fucking bonkers. If it hadn't happened, you and I would have been at John's Place last night, bitching about farm prices and railroad wages, and maybe Billy Marlon would have owned the place and been a city councilman if he hadn't gone to Vietnam. Christ, I don't know." He took a bite of muffin and said, "Some of who we are is in our genes, some of it is our culture, some of it is in our stars, and a lot of it is our personal history. You, me, Cliff Baxter, Annie Prentis, and Billy Marlon. We were born in the same hospital within a year of one another. I don't have any answers."

"Me, neither. I'd like you to do me another favor. After I'm gone, go see if there's anything you can do for Marlon. He lives out at the Cowley farm on Route 8. See if you can get him into a VA hospital."

"Sure. You're a good guy."

"Don't let it get around."

Gail said, "You must have a lot of mixed feelings right now. You're about to leave home again, and you're embarking on a great and unknown journey into a new life with another person. Are you excited or scared shitless?"

"Yes."

They finished breakfast and Gail asked Keith if he had an extra toothbrush.

"Sure. I'll find it. Come on up."

They went upstairs and into Keith's room. He opened the wardrobe.

Gail looked at the uniforms, the saber, the bulletproof vest, and the odds and ends of a career that required many accessories. She asked, "What exactly did you do?"

"This and that." He took out the M-16 rifle. "Basically, I spent twenty-five years fighting commies. They got tired of it about the same time I did."

"Was it fulfilling?"

"Toward the end, it was about as fulfilling as your job. Here — this is called the fire control selector. It's on safety now. Move it here, and it's ready to fire. You just keep pulling the trigger. It chambers a new round and cocks itself automatically. This is the magazine. It holds twenty rounds. After you empty the magazine, you push this catch and the magazine pops out, then you push a fresh magazine in and make sure it clicks in place, then you pull this handle back and it will chamber the first round, then it's automatic again." He handed the rifle to her.

She said, "It's so light."

"And it doesn't have much kick."

She practiced loading a magazine, chambering a round, and aiming. She said, "It's pretty simple."

"Right. It was designed for people like a Billy Marlon. It's simple, light, easy to aim, and very deadly. All you need is the will to pull the trigger."

"That I don't know."

"Then you shouldn't take it."

"I'll take it."

"Okay. Here's the carrying case. There are four fully loaded magazines in these side pouches, and in this pouch is a scope, but don't bother with that. It's for long-distance firing. I don't think you'll wind up in a firefight with the Spencerville police, but you'll feel better at night if this is under your bed. Okay?"

"Okay."

She said, "I'll go unlock the trunk, then take Jeffrey for a walk." She went downstairs, and a few minutes later, as Keith got dressed, he saw them through the window out by the barn. He went downstairs and out the back door and put the carrying case in their trunk beside the empty food containers. He closed the trunk and went inside and poured another cup of coffee.

A few minutes later, Gail and Jeffrey returned. Gail said, "Really nice place here." They made small talk for a few minutes, then Gail said, "Well... time to go." She put her arms around him and kissed him. "Good luck, Keith. Call or write."

"I'll write. Meanwhile, get a security company down from Toledo to check out your phones, and get a mobile phone."

"Good idea." Jeffrey took his hand. "Hey, if you need anything before you take off, don't call — stop by."

"I think it's all set. The house key's under the workbench in the toolshed."

"Okay. We'll keep an eye on things until you get back."

"Thanks for everything. Good luck with the revolution."

They all embraced again, then the Porters left, and Keith watched them drive off, reasonably certain he'd see them again in better times.

At about ten A.M., Keith was on a ladder, replacing the rusted hinges on the door of the haymow. Working outdoors had cleared his head, and he felt better.

He heard the sound of tires on the gravel and turned to see a gray Ford Taurus coming up the long drive, a cloud of dust trailing it.

Keith couldn't imagine who it was, but it might be Annie. Then again, it might not be. He came down off the ladder in time to pick up his Glock 9mm from atop the toolbox, stick it in his waistband, and throw his shirt on over it. He walked toward the house as the driver's-side door of the car opened.

A man of about his own height and age, with sandy hair and wearing a blue suit, got out and looked around, then the man saw Keith and waved. "Howdy! This the Landry farm?"

Keith continued walking toward the man who came to meet him.

The man said, "Fine spread you got here, son. I'm fixin' to buy you out, or run you out. All you sod-busters got to clear out for my cattle."

Keith came up to the man. "This is Ohio, Charlie. We don't talk that way."

"I thought this was Kansas. How the hell are you?"

They shook hands, then embraced briefly and patted each other's backs.

Charlie Adair, of Washington, D.C., and the National Security Council, had been Keith Landry's immediate civilian superior and Keith's sometimes good friend. Keith wondered what he was doing here and guessed it was some administrative thing, paperwork to be signed, or maybe just a physical check to see that Keith was where he said he was, how he lived, that sort of thing. But somehow, Keith knew this wasn't so.

Charlie Adair asked, "How have you been, Keith?"

"Fine until two minutes ago. What's up?"

"Oh, I just came by to say hello."

"Hi."

Charlie looked around. "You were born here?"

"Yup."

"Was it a good place to grow up?"

"It was."

"You get cyclones here?"

"At least once a week. You just missed one. There's a tornado later today if you're still around."

Adair smiled, then asked, "So, you settled in?"

"I am."

"What's a place like this worth?"

"I don't know... four hundred acres, house, building, a little equipment... maybe four hundred thousand."

"No kidding? That's pretty good. But outside of D.C., in Virginia, those gentlemen's farms go for a million."

Keith didn't think Charlie Adair came to Spencer County to talk about the price of land. Keith asked him, "You just fly in?"

"Yeah, took an early morning flight to Columbus and rented a car. Nice drive. I found you without too many problems. Police knew right where you were."

"This is a real small place."

"I see that." Adair observed, "You got some good tan. Lost some weight."

"Lot of outdoor work on a farm."

"I guess." Adair stretched. "Hey, can we take a walk? Long flight and long drive."

"Sure. I'll show you around."

They walked around the farmyard, and Charlie feigned an interest in everything, while Keith feigned an interest in showing it to him. Charlie asked, "This all yours?"