“When did it happen?”
“Thursday night.”
“When they came for Xelina.”
She nodded.
“Police?”
She shrugged, and got a weird look on her face.
“What kind of cars?”
“Government cars, I guess. Red. Smaller than cop cars.”
“How many people?”
“A bunch. Maybe eight. Just the two cars.”
“No uniforms?”
“Nope.”
“Weird.”
“It’s because those girls were terrorists, isn’t it? That’s what kind of cops those were.”
“I don’t think they were terrorists,” said Donny. “I think the government is looking for terrorists, and thought these young ladies might have some information.”
“Well, they took that Xelina one with ’em. Carried her out. I couldn’t even tell which one it was because they had her wrapped in some black blanket. Then I saw the other two after.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“No. I minded my own business. Then in the morning I saw them leave. The one boyfriend came and got ’em in his truck. The one who used to always be up to whatever kind of no good back there in that trailer.”
“You know his name?”
“Nope. Don’t care to.”
“You mind keeping your dogs in for a while so I can go check back there?”
“I guess, if you’re really her lawyer.”
Donny pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
She read the card, then sized him up again. “Nina Pritchard,” she said.
“Okay, Mrs. Pritchard,” said Donny. “Thanks for talking to me. If you see any of those girls, or the guy, or anything else you think I might want to know, will you call me?”
He had a hundred-dollar bill in his hand when he said that. She grabbed it before Aldo could.
“Sure,” she said.
“Thanks,” said Donny.
There was a loud boom in the distance, off in the direction of the Zone. They both looked, but didn’t see anything.
“What was that?” asked Donny.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been hearing noises like that since summer, seems like. I just figure they’re blowing up the stuff they can’t fix.”
“Maybe,” said Donny.
He looked back at the scorched yard of the ghost house. “Hey, look at that,” he said, squatting down to the burnt grass. There was a green sprout just emerging from the black earth, a few fuzzy little leaves he recognized. “Bluebonnets. There’s another one, over there. They’ll be blooming before you know it.”
He looked up, but Mrs. Pritchard was already headed inside.
27
Having already suffered one dog bite for the day, Donny decided to drive down the path through the trees. He was glad he did, because it was farther than he expected.
It only took a couple of minutes, but by the time he got into the little grove where the trailer was, just like the lady said, it felt a little like he had passed into a different time. Maybe because the old aluminum camper looked like it had been parked there for decades, and somehow at the same time looked ready to run for the border at a moment’s notice. But maybe it had been left behind, after Donny had drawn the vengeance of the state back to this spot.
The trailer wasn’t the only thing hidden in that grove. There was an ancient German military truck sitting in the dirt with the hood off and the engine out, for what looked to have been a long time, a couple of empty parking spots with fresh tracks in the gravel, and a foldout table in the yard with four chairs and one coffee cup, but no other sign of people. It was only after he got out that Donny noticed the dog bowl, and the bone that looked about the size of his femur. But not a bark or a rustle, just more dull noises in the faraway distance and a couple of cardinals alerting the woods behind the trailer to the arrival of a stranger.
The name on the front of the trailer above the hitch was ARGO, spelled out in squared-off letters cut from some luminescent material long past its half-life. It was boxy and angled, leaning forward over the hitch, and when you peeked through the cloudy old glass you could see the warm patina of wood paneling from old forests, warmed up further with hand-woven draperies in the colors of a happier culture. Donny stepped up onto the entry block made from flotsam wood and knocked, not expecting an answer and not getting one. Through the porthole he saw plates stacked to dry, a little portable color TV hooked up to some weird old deck, almost like a cross between a VCR and a ham radio, a vintage assault rifle with a wood stock and a banana clip leaning up against the table, and a kitchen cart set up with a gunsmith’s reloader. Donny looked toward the back of the trailer, but saw only darkness.
The gun was the most likely sign that whoever lived here was coming back.
Behind the trailer toward the woods was a little shorty storage container, white paint turning green and blue paint turning the color of the polluted sky. You could still read the faded-out brand of BREMEN OST. Donny was about to walk back there when he heard another vehicle rumbling down the lane, and decided he better wait in his car.
He watched the Ford pickup roll up in the rearview mirror, and wished he’d thought to park facing out. The driver was a white guy with a ball cap, and a big grey dog riding shotgun. Donny stayed in the car, which was a good idea because about fifteen seconds later the dog had jumped out of the open window before the truck even came to a stop, jumped up on the door, and started to see if it could get through the glass to Donny, who grabbed his briefcase from the seat and held it in his lap ready to serve as a shield. When he looked up again the guy was standing there looking down at him with hard eyes. Then the guy almost smiled, knocked on the window, and put a calming hand on the dog.
“What do you want?” said the guy, Texas all the way down. Young, but older than Xelina, with longer hair and wily eyes.
Donny cracked the window just far enough to properly converse, but not far enough for the dog to get through.
“I’m looking for family and friends of Xelina Rocafuerte.”
“Is that right,” said the guy. “And who the fuck are you?”
Donny noticed the guy’s belt buckle, cowboy brass embossed with the image of a barbarian riding a unicorn. Hanging from the belt was a knife, fixed blade, with what looked like a hand-tooled hilt. Donny wondered where you go to find the rodeo where they lasso unicorns, but thought maybe he should wait to ask about that.
“I’m her lawyer. My name’s Donny Kimoe.” He pulled a business card from his suit pocket and slipped it through the gap. “You must be Clint.”
The guy didn’t answer that. He just read the card, looked at Donny, looked back at the card, then looked up at the road. “Guess that explains the suit.”
“Yes, it does,” said Donny. “I just came from the courthouse.”
“Where is she?” said the guy, a different look in his eyes now.
“Let me come out and tell you,” said Donny. “If Fenrir there will let me.”
“His name’s Wayway,” said the guy. “He’s Xelina’s dog. And yeah, I’m Clint. I’m Xelina’s roommate.”
They shook hands as Donny stepped out of the car and Wayway—or maybe it was Huehue, Donny thought—took an inventory of the scents on his trousers and shoes, and the accumulated intoxicants sweating out through his fingers. He wondered if the dog could pick up any trace of Xelina.
“Grab a seat,” said Clint, leading him to the outdoor table. “The place is kind of a mess. I’ve been going a little crazy trying to figure out where the fuck they got her.”
“Well, she’s alive,” said Donny. “They brought her in for questioning. And accused her of being an insurgent.”
“I knew it,” he said. “Those motherfuckers.” He had two fists out on the table, clenching tighter.
“My job is to get her home. And maybe you can help me.”
“I’ll help get her out, all right
. But I betcha talking about it isn’t going to get the job done.”
Donny decided to be honest. “Well, it didn’t work for me this week, partly because Xelina decided to give the judge a lecture.”
Clint looked at him. “Sounds about right,” he said.
“But I have another shot. Different judge. Nicer judge.”
“Uh-huh,” said Clint. “Is that kind of like good cop and bad cop?”
“No. It’s different. It’s about the possibility of getting a fair shake. Of justice.” He raised an eyebrow at the word.
“Where do they got her now?”
Donny paused. “She’s still in federal custody. Currently at the annex downtown, but they’re getting ready to transfer her to this new detention center they have set up for denaturalization cases.”
“They gave her to the fucking Coasties?”
“Not yet,” said Donny. “I’m hoping to keep it from happening.”
“With words. The ‘nice’ judge.”
Donny nodded. “Tomorrow afternoon. Before the Friday evening transfer is scheduled.”
“Uh-huh. You know where that place is they want to send her?”
“Not exactly, and if I did I wouldn’t be able to say, because it’s secret. I know it’s new. This whole system is new, and hard to keep up with, because they change the rules every day. But yes, you are probably right that the Coast Guard is part of it. Them and other agencies on the Task Force.”
“I’ll tell you where they want to take her,” said Clint. “They got a fucking ship. Right out there.” He pointed off toward the Zone, in the direction of the coast. “Just far enough you can’t see it, which I betcha means just far enough that lawyers like you can’t do anything about it.”
“It’s a secret, like I said. So secret they won’t even tell lawyers like me where it is. But I’ve heard the rumors. That one and other ones. They already have people behind the wire in those resettlement camps. It’s not a big stretch. And it’s happened before. It’s just been a while since they did it to Americans.”
“They’re more than rumors, pal. I know a guy who talked to some guys who make deliveries out there. Seen the prisoners lined up on the deck, eyes and ears and the whole fucking deal, just like those JSOC mothers used to do to the enemy when I was in Panama. Sensory deprivation, they call it. You got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Donny. You could see the raw feeling welling up in the guy.
“How’d she find you?” asked Clint, his tone turning toward the accusatory.
“She didn’t,” said Donny. “The court appointed me.”
“You work for the court?”
“No, they just pay my fee, on cases like this.”
“Well that’s fucking great. No wonder she ended up where she did with a setup like that.”
“The system is rigged, but she ended up where she did because I screwed up,” said Donny. “And I need your help so I can fix it.”
“What if I prefer self-help?” said Clint.
“Live the Seven Habits?”
“More like the Seventh Son.”
“Can you see the future?”
“I know what I want it to look like. And sitting around watching won’t make that happen.”
“Xelina told me you think making movies to show what’s going on isn’t enough.”
“Not unless you want to rot on some prison ship or eat government cheese in some suburban concentration camp.”
“We have a system in place for fixing those things. There are a whole lot of us working to change it. The law is on our side. And once this election gets sorted out, it should be a thing of the past.”
“I thought you had to be real smart to go to law school,” said Clint.
“Not so much,” said Donny. “But your guns are not the answer to our political problems.”
“You telling me the law is? A bunch of guys like you, arguing inside the air-conditioning until the power runs out? If you want freedom, you gotta make ’em give it to you. You gotta take it.”
“I agree. But the way you do that is through the power of democracy. Like the election. No way they can deny the power of the people. They do that, there’ll be riots in the streets.”
“You’d think a guy like you knows how the system actually works. I served the flag, because I didn’t think I had a choice. I saw what we were doing down there, on the other side of the Gulf. No matter what the laws and the lawyers and the judges say. The law’s just the rules they make up to keep themselves in power. Keep taking what they want. And it only applies to us, not them. So if they don’t follow the law, why should I? They gave me skills. Now they can’t come bitchin’ if I use them to protect my people. My family. My country.”
“All by yourself? Didn’t sound to me like Xelina’s entirely persuaded.”
“There are a whole lot of people who agree with me. And we’re more organized than you think. Or they think. Change is coming.”
“Okay,” said Donny. “In the meantime, I just want to get Xelina out. And all I need from you is some information. Can you help me with that?”
“Sure.”
“Where are Xelina’s friends? The ones who were with her when she got picked up?”
“I assume the secret police or whatever got them, too. I was gone the night they came. Can’t you find out from the court?”
“I can try, but it’s hard. The feds have suspended habeas corpus—the right to not be unlawfully detained—and they say they don’t even have to tell us who they have, let alone why.”
“So messed up.”
“It is. But I have sources. Where were you that night?”
“Let’s just say I was hunting.”
“Uh-huh. Can you think of any other people that I could talk to? Ideally people who were there at the occupation with Gregorio.”
“She told you what happened.”
“Yes. And if I can prove it happened, I think I can convince a judge that’s the real reason they are holding her.”
He looked away, thinking. You could hear a helicopter nearby, flying pretty low.
“There’s one gal you could try.”
“Who’s that?”
“Tara. I don’t know her last name.”
“Where would I find her?”
“I think I have her number. But she’s probably at the camp.”
“Which camp?”
“The resettlement camp,” he said. “The big one.”
“Iowatown.”
“Yeah. She said she was going back there until things settle down.”
“Great. Now how about Xelina’s recordings? She told me where she kept her backups, but—”
“But you’re a little late to that party.” He looked Donny over afresh. “I may have kept one disc with some stuff you’d find interesting.”
“Yes, please—anything like that should help.”
“Make it count,” he said, holding Donny’s gaze.
“I’m on her side,” said Donny. “And I’m going to get her out.”
“Here’s my number and Tara’s,” said Clint, scribbling on a piece of an envelope and handing it over. “Anything else?”
“Just one other thing,” said Donny. “What’s Xelina’s password?”
28
As he headed back in, Percy called.
“Hey,” said Donny. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“And I didn’t expect to be calling you. I haven’t even officially started work and my new boss says I need to help you on a project.”
“Your new boss is a hoss,” said Donny.
“Please don’t try to talk redneck to me or I might change my mind.”
“Sorry. Spent the last hour hanging out with a cowboy.”
“Yee-haw.”
“Did he tell you about the case?”
“Yeah. Same one you were working on Monday.”
“Except now it’s a lot harder. The train has left the station.”
“Yea
h, but sounds like you have a shot at putting the brakes on.”
“You in? Even though it’s a political case?”
“Yes. Sounds like the government is making it a political case, when it’s not. It’s a free speech case.”
“Did you read my filing?”
“Yes. You need some better precedents to cite.”
“Can you help me find them?”
“Already did. More than cases, though, you need some better evidence.”
“That’s what I’ve been working on. Where are you now?”
“At my new office.”
“Great. I’ll meet you there this afternoon. I have a couple of meetings lined up in the meantime.”
“Hey, Donny. I’m sorry about Jerome.”
“I know you are, Percy.”
“Maybe we can still prove him innocent. That would be worth something.”
“Yeah. After we get Xelina back on the street.”
29
When Donny got to the satellite office, Turner was there sitting on a bench taking his coffee break. As they had agreed. They acted surprised to see each other anyway.
Donny stood while Turner stayed seated, smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee from a styrofoam cup.
“No donut?” said Donny.
“Doctor’s orders,” said Turner, taking a long drag.
Donny remembered what Ward had said, how smoking makes sense once you understand the whole world is dying. He just wasn’t sure he agreed.
“What’s the news?”
“You should be all set. I told the guys how you wanted to make a donation to our benevolent fund, and they really appreciated it. So if you want to take that tour you were asking about, you can meet our treasurer, Richie, over at the annex tonight.”
Donny didn’t know yet what was on the disc Clint had given him, and he couldn’t take chances.
“That’s good news, Turner.”
“Richie said meet him at the loading dock. Seven-forty-five.”
“Got it.”
“He can process your donation, too.”
“Remind me how much I said? I was distracted by the floor show.”
“Five.”
“Right,” said Donny. Five thousand cash was four thousand and change more than he had immediately available.
Rule of Capture Page 16
