Whom Gods Destroy (9 page)

It was good to have someone that I didn't have to lie to. “I couldn't raise a penny,” I said. “But all I need is one load of liquor, and Barney Seaward is going to furnish that.” I leaned forward and took Vida's shoulders. “Before I'm through, Vida, I'm going to own this county. I'm going to own it harder, and squeeze more out of it than Barney Seaward ever dreamed was possible. I'm going all the way to the top, Vida, and I'm going to step on a lot of people getting there, but that can't be helped. Will you go with me?”

She almost whispered, “I guess there's no place for me to go now, except with you. But what about Lola?”

“What about her?”

“Every time her name is mentioned you freeze up,” she said. “You get cold and hard and I can see the hate flame up behind your eyes. Do you have to hurt her, Roy? Is that the reason you have to take this risk?”

I couldn't lie to her. I said, “Yes—I guess that's the reason.”

6

VIDA DIDN'T LIKE the idea of hijacking one of Seaward's trucks, and I didn't like it much either, after I started thinking about it. But that was the way it had to be. I couldn't very well break into bootlegging without anything to sell, and I sure couldn't raise the money to buy the stuff.

The actual job of stealing the whisky was going to be tough, but even at that it would be easier, I figured, than the job of keeping it after I had it. It would almost certainly mean that I'd have to sit on it for a while before doing anything with it, and probably I'd have to move out of Big Prairie County. It wasn't going to look right for a common runner to suddenly turn retailer, and especially it wasn't going to look right to Barney Seaward who supplied the retailers and furnished the protection in the county.

But moving out of Big Prairie was the thing I hated most. In the first place, the county sat right in the middle of the state and that meant that not many people would be driving over to Kansas or Texas or Arkansas for their liquor. Big Prairie was the ideal spot for bootleggers because the drinkers had to depend on them. And there was Vida, too. Maybe if I said the word she would leave Sid and go with me, but it seemed a shame to break up that direct connection to the county's political machine. Big Prairie was a tailor-made spot for a bootlegger and it made me sore to think of leaving it.

But I think Lola was the real reason I hated to leave. I would go along for days keeping her locked in the back of my mind, then suddenly, unexpectedly all that dammed-up hate would break loose again. When that happened I'd go a little crazy, because I knew there wasn't a thing I could do about it. There was no way I could hit back at her. No way I could hurt her. God, I kept thinking, if I only had the money Seaward had! If I only had the power he had! Oh, I could make them crawl, all right. I could put the screws on that husband of hers and that would bring her to her knees. Paul Keating was Lola's weakness, and the startling thing about it was that I hadn't realized it before. Lola was ambition. She lived it. She breathed it. God, I thought—and the idea was as bright as a new sword—if I only had Seaward's power!

There was no easy way of doing it and no good way of doing it. I'd have to take all I could and play it as well as I could, and the rest would depend on how much I could do in how little time. Assuming, of course, that I didn't get killed in the hijacking. Or if Seaward didn't get suspicious and track me down and send me to the bottom of some river. There were a thousand “ifs” and all of them were deadly, but as long as there was a chance in the gamble, I had to take it.

So that is the way it would have gone, probably, if it hadn't been for the phone call.

It was a routine call to the telephone office and they gave me an address out of my territory, way out in Western Heights, where the big homes were.

“What the hell!” I said. “That's not my territory.”

“It's nobody's territory,” the phone man said wearily, “but you have to make the delivery just the same. A lug of Scotch, two fifths of gin, and a lug of green-stamp bourbon.”

“I haven't got it with me. I'll have to go back to the warehouse.”

“Then go to the warehouse, but get it out there.”

“Who lives there, anyway?”

The phone man laughed. “Big Prairie's promising young county attorney. By the way, there's no charge on this. It's on Sid.”

I got to the car somehow, sitting there for a long while until the wildness began to die. The lousy snob, I thought, she did it on purpose! But that didn't make sense either. If anybody like Lola Keating had asked for a special runner, the phone man would have said something about it. It was just a lousy break and there was nothing I could do about it.

By the time I got to the warehouse I had cooled off some and begun to think straight again. Probably Keating was throwing a party, and if that was the case Lola would be so busy with that end I wouldn't even see her. The kid checked me out with the stuff and, on the long chance that there might be another runner around, I asked him if somebody else could make the delivery. There wasn't anybody else. So that settled it.

I almost had myself believing that everything was going to be all right as I wound around the crooked, elm-lined streets looking for the address. When I finally found the place it was pretty much like all the others, a low, ranch-type brick house set back from the street behind a well-cared-for lawn. I looked at the house and thought, So that's where she lives. And then I realized that I was gripping the steering wheel tightly enough to snap it in two.

I drove between two brick pillars and up a graveled road that curved around the back of the house, and I thought sourly, The back door's the place for you, Foley. I parked near the back steps and got the stuff out from under the front seat. The back door opened then and a young, dull-eyed girl stood holding the door open for me as I came up the steps with my arms full.

I put the stuff on the kitchen table and looked around. “You alone here?”

She nodded suspiciously, as though she expected me to start making passes at her. The hell with her. I was breathing freely now, feeling a queer sort of excitement take hold of me.
Her
house, I thought. This is where
she
lives. I wandered through the big white kitchen and came into a richly carpeted dining room where a lot of stuff was laid out, all kind of nuts in little copper bowls and trays of tiny sandwiches. It was going to be a party, all right.

“Look,” the girl said worriedly, “you can't go in there.

“Missus Keating won't like it.”

“What she doesn't know won't hurt her.” The house fascinated me, now that I knew Lola wasn't there. I went to the front room and stood there staring savagely at the richness of it, while the girl followed behind me, complaining and whining.

“Shut up—and get out of here!”

She got out. She scurried like a rabbit in loose leaves. It was the wrong thing to do and I knew it. She would tell Lola and Lola would tell Keating and finally the word would get back to Seaward and Sid and I'd be out of a job. I'd be out of everything. But right then I didn't give a damn. I don't know how much time passed before the front door opened and Lola came in. She stood there, faintly startled, a key in her hand.

She said coldly, “What are you doing here?”

I said nothing.

“Cora,” she called, “come here this instant!” The girl came in from the kitchen. She had been crying. “What is this man doing here, Cora?” Lola demanded.

The girl made a strangled sound, too scared to talk.

I said tightly, “I brought the liquor you ordered from Sid.”

“To the front room?”

The rage broke then. The dam washed out. “No,” I said, “I brought it in the back door. That's right, isn't it? You wouldn't want the neighbors to see a Burk Street bootlegger coming in the front way, would you, Lola?”

Her mouth turned down in a sneer and she wasn't beautiful at all. “I can see it's no use trying to be civil to you. Get out of my house.”

“I'll get out,” I said, “but not until I'm damn good and ready.” It was funny, but I wasn't afraid of her then. In the back of my mind I knew that I was tearing everything down, destroying everything completely. But I was drunk with the knowledge that I could stand in front of her and look at her and not feel torn apart.

“You were born in the gutter,” she said coldly, “and you'll live in the gutter all your life!” She laughed harshly. “You were going to college! You were going to amount to something! That's funny, it's really very funny!” She laughed again, but the laughter seemed forced, as though she wasn't quite sure of herself.

“I guess it was pretty funny at that,” I said. “You thought it was funny when I first said it.”

Her face seemed to drop and the laughter stopped. “You're sick,” she said. “Your brain is sick and twisted. No one but an insane person could keep a hate alive that long.”

“You ought to know, Lola. I understand you. I've been afraid of you for a long time, but I'm not afraid any more. You know why, Lola? Because I'm going to break you before I'm through. I'm going to make you crawl, Lola.”

She tried to laugh again but the sound died abruptly. “You
are
insane!” she said, and she sounded vaguely frightened. “By tomorrow you won't even have a job! I'll see to that. You won't even be allowed in Big Prairie!” She put her hands in front of her face, and I wasn't sure what was going on inside her until she said hoarsely, bitterly, “Oh, God, how I hate you!”

And then I could laugh, because I knew that I had been right about her. I threw my head back and let my laughter roll and the sound of it filled the room.

She sank into a chair, still holding her hands in front of her face. Her shoulders began shaking as I turned and walked out.

It didn't take long for Lola to make her threat good. When I got back to my rooming house the hall phone was ringing and when I answered it, it was Sid.

“Where the hell have you been?” He was mad.

“Out making deliveries. I just checked in at the warehouse.”

“I want to see you, and damn quick.”

I knew that was the end of it. I hung up. When the phone started ringing again I let it ring. I went upstairs and numbly started putting clothes into a suitcase.

I should have been panicky, but somehow I wasn't. I sat down and thought about it for a few minutes, and I still wasn't sorry for what had happened. But had it been worth it, really? How was the thing going to settle after the elation had worn off? Jesus, I thought, here I was within reach of money and power and I threw it all away on one crazy impulse!

It began to come then, the big emptiness as the elation slipped away. If it would have done any good, I think I would have gone back out there and begged her to call it off. She could do it. But she wouldn't, and I knew she wouldn't. She would laugh and I would probably kill her, and that would really be the end of everything. God, I thought bitterly, if I only had Seaward's power!

And I guess that's when I began to get the idea. If I only had the power Seaward had! That thought stuck in my brain and I couldn't get rid of it. All right, what
was
the power he had? Money, for one thing, and plenty of it. But, it wasn't the money that made him big, it was his political power and the knowledge that he could make or break any politician in Big Prairie County. He could make or break Paul Keating.

Then the thought hit me, the whole plan, full grown. It stunned me for a moment. It's too simple, I thought, there must be a catch in it somewhere. I turned it over in my mind, looking at all sides of it for the flaw, but I couldn't see it. I came to my feet. “Well, I'll be damned!”

The way I saw it, Paul Keating was the key to the whole thing. The key to Lola's weakness—her ambition. All I had to do was find a club to hold over Paul Keating's head. Or if I couldn't find a club, manufacture one. I couldn't see any reason why it wouldn't work, at least for a little while. Keating seemed spineless enough, which was probably the reason Seaward had put him in the county attorney's office in the first place.

If I tried it and it didn't work—I didn't like to think of what would happen. I was in enough trouble already. Out of a job and in bad with Barney and Sid. And Vida hadn't had a chance to get the information I had to have to try the hijacking.

It was settled, actually, even before I went over all the arguments against it. I had to try it. It was either that or lose everything.

Not more than fifteen minutes had passed between the time Sid said he wanted to see me and I made up my mind to take the gamble. If I didn't show up pretty soon Sid would be looking for me, and probably some of Seaward's truck drivers as well, so I had to get out of there. I looked at my watch and it was three-thirty.'

The first thing I did was visit a camera shop. Then I went to the Travelers Hotel and rented a room on the fourth floor. The bellhop hustled around the way hops do when they show a guest to a room, pulling blinds, raising windows, snapping lights off and on.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Yes,” I said. “I want a girl.”

He blinked, then grinned. Nothing much could jar him.

“Yes, sir. Things're kind of hot on girls, but I think I can get you something.”

“Not just something,” I said. “She has to be young, reasonably good-looking, and put together like a brick out-house.”