War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel

by Kris Nelscott

  “Try me now,” Whickam said.

  “I don’t believe in repeating information,” Daniel said. “If you don’t get it the first time, you won’t get it.”

  From the smiles around the room and the look of utter humiliation on Whickam’s face, I realized that Daniel was quoting Whickam himself, probably something he had said in class.

  “I have been worried,” Whickam said to Daniel.

  Daniel shrugged. “Sometimes you have to let go, man.”

  “I’m all right, Daddy, really,” Rhondelle said.

  “So just give us back the gun and you can leave,” Daniel said.

  Whickam looked at me. “Maybe you should give it back.”

  “You don’t need the gun,” I said to Daniel.

  “It’s mine,” he said.

  “Not anymore.” I gave him the same cold smile he had given me.

  Daniel looked at my hands, then back at me, as if debating whether or not he could take the gun by force. Finally, he shrugged one shoulder. “I can always get another gun.”

  “Danny, stop,” Rhondelle said. “Daddy’s letting us stay. Don’t antagonize him.”

  “Sorry, professor,” Daniel said with complete sarcasm. “Didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “If you hurt my daughter,” Whickam said, “you’ll answer to me.”

  Daniel didn’t move. He clearly wasn’t intimidated.

  “I promise, professor,” he said, “that I won’t hurt her any more than you did.”

  Whickam’s light brown skin reddened. He glanced at his daughter, the look filled with humiliation.

  She didn’t jump to his defense. No one did.

  Finally I used my free hand to touch him lightly on the back. “Come on. Let’s leave the children to their games.”

  And somehow, I managed to get Whickam out of that house.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  I cracked open the shotgun, but I still felt awkward walking into the street. The shells clicked together in my pocket. I wanted to get rid of them and the gun as soon as possible.

  Whickam didn’t seem to notice the gun or the lightning still flaring in the distance. He walked, head down, toward his car. This time, I didn’t have to struggle to keep up with him.

  When we reached the car, Whickam leaned against the door as he unlocked it, looking more defeated than any man I had ever seen.

  “I had visions of carrying her out,” he said. “All the way down here, I imagined myself carrying her out like she was a little girl.”

  “She doesn’t want to go,” I said.

  He shook his head. “That was the thing. If she screamed for help, or didn’t say anything, I would’ve been up those stairs. But she wants to stay in the filth with that boy. I don’t understand it.”

  “She knows where to go if she needs help,” I said.

  “She wouldn’t even come down the stairs,” he said. “She wasn’t even dressed. It’s nearly night, and she wasn’t even dressed.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “How did she become this person? What happened to her?” His voice broke. He leaned his head on the car door.

  I didn’t move. I didn’t know what to say, and any kind of physical sympathy — a touch on the shoulder, a hand on the back — seemed out of place.

  After a moment, he straightened. “I owe you. I owe you for finding her. At least we know she’s all right. That is more than we had yesterday.”

  “I wish it could have been different,” I said.

  He reached into his back pocket. “I brought money. It was going to be for her, but I couldn’t give it to her, not with him there. They might use it for…the wrong things. So let me pay you what I owe.”

  I didn’t want to take his money at the moment. He wasn’t in any condition, and it didn’t feel right.

  “Let me bill you,” I said.

  He shook his head. “We had an agreement. Expenses, right, and your rate? I figure with coming to New York, you and your son, the hotel and meals, expenses are already at least two hundred. Then there’s the rate.”

  “Professor—”

  “Let’s settle this,” he said. “I don’t want to have to think about it when I get home.”

  So this was where Rhondelle learned her ability to ignore the things she didn’t want to see. I had suspected as much, but I had never really seen Whickam’s talent in action.

  “Two hundred is generous,” I said. “Our expenses haven’t come close to that.”

  He handed me four. I tried to give the other two back, but he wouldn’t let me.

  He had planned to give out that money today, and he was going to do so no matter what.

  “I can’t give you a receipt,” I said. “I don’t have anything on me.”

  “Mail it.” Then he seemed to notice the gun. “That’s my father’s, you know.”

  “I think it’s yours now,” I said, handing it to him.

  He took it as if he had never held a gun before. Maybe he hadn’t.

  “He always said he kept it to keep us safe. I never thought I’d see it turned on me.” He shook his head. “My father would be appalled at Rhondelle.”

  “I know,” I said quietly.

  Whickam went to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and put the shotgun inside. At least he was thinking clearly about that.

  Then he slammed the trunk, and came back to the driver’s door. “I’d like to ask you to check up on her, but you’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t answer him. That last encounter with Daniel worried me. When he swung that gun toward Whickam, I actually thought Daniel might shoot.

  I no longer had any doubt that he would use those explosives.

  “Rhondi never changes her mind,” Whickam was saying. “That’s the problem. She’d go straight into hell if she thought that was the course she needed to take, no matter how many people told her she was wrong.”

  Like him this afternoon. When I had pleaded with him not to come, he had anyway.

  I wasn’t sure I would be so different.

  “You still need to give her the chance,” I said.

  Half of Whickam’s mouth rose in a sad smile. The expression was so like his daughter’s that I felt surprise at the resemblance.

  “When I first met you, I thought you were cynical,” he said. “But you’re not, are you? You like to believe the best of everyone.”

  “Your daughter’s smart,” I said. “Smart people figure things out.”

  “Not always,” he said, and got into the car. He rolled down the driver’s side window and leaned out of it. “I should not have let her stay there, should I? They may think I’m condoning what they’re doing.”

  “I’m not sure what they’re doing,” I said. “I sure didn’t like that shotgun, though.”

  “I did not like any of it,” Whickam said, and started the car. It rumbled softly, almost inaudible against the noises of the city. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Grimshaw.”

  “Any time,” I said.

  But as I watched him drive away, I wondered if he really was grateful. Was it better to know that his daughter was living with an obsessed group of young people who seemed out of control? Or better to think she was missing?

  I had no idea. But I couldn’t condemn Whickam for giving in to her. Nor was I really upset that he had come for her, even though his attempt to bring her home had failed.

  We had no idea what the future would bring, what would happen to our children, and how we could protect them. We could only do our best.

  And sometimes our best simply wasn’t good enough.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  On the walk home, I thought about a lot of things. I worried that someone had seen me with that gun. I hoped no one was watching the apartment. I certainly didn’t want to show up in some file, looking angry, a shotgun clutched in my hands.

  That slight movement I had seen near the apartment still worried me. A lot of these militant groups had undercover agents inside the organization or su
rveillance outside. I could only hope that no one had discovered Daniel’s group yet, or if they had, they hadn’t taken any photographs of me.

  But there was nothing I could do about it now. Even the hope felt futile, and it took a moment to understand why.

  That conflict I’d felt earlier, between my duty to Grace and my responsibility as a person who knew about a potential crime had just increased. I no longer doubted Daniel’s capacity for violence.

  I didn’t even know how to talk to her, which was probably why I hadn’t called her yet. I wasn’t sure she’d believe me if I told her who Daniel had become and what he was doing. I was afraid she’d spend money she didn’t have to come to New York, only to get turned away the way that René Whickam had.

  The next day was the Fourth of July, followed by a long weekend. People would be out of town. Offices would be closed. I could do some investigating, but not a lot.

  And then I stopped.

  What had Daniel said? He had said something would happen tomorrow. I had to concentrate to recall the context.

  When you tear down society, I had asked him, then what’ll you do?

  Build a better one, he’d said. I asked how, and he said, You’ll know tomorrow.

  Tomorrow. The Fourth of July.

  That map I had found in the Barn had had a seven and a four written next to the circled site marked with the exclamation point. I had thought those numbers meant 74. But what if they meant 7/4 — the Fourth of July?

  I went cold. I hadn’t kept the map, but I had memorized it. Only I didn’t know what was at that location. It was on the southern tip of the island, near Battery Park. A lot of government buildings were there. But what was on the corner of Whitehall and Pearl?

  I needed to find out.

  Our maps were in the van, which was in Newark. I went down to the nearest subway platform, but the subway map didn’t tell me what was at that corner either, although there was a stop nearby.

  I would have to go there myself.

  The holiday was already starting. Someone posted the subway’s holiday hours all over the booth. People were pushing each other, smiling despite their hurry.

  I had to get back to the apartment. I had two boys to take care of, a federal holiday to deal with, and a possible bombing target.

  What I needed was a plan.

  I had one by the time I reached 114th Street. If Daniel’s group decided to bomb a building at Whitehall and Pearl, they were probably planning to plant the bomb tomorrow, when most people were out of town.

  If I watched the area, I would see them arrive. I could call the police anonymously and stop the bombing. I’d be able to report who planted the bombs as well, and then let the authorities make a case against Daniel and his friends.

  The plan had a lot of flaws. For example, Daniel could have already planted the bomb, and he — or someone else — would detonate it tomorrow. I would have to keep a reasonable distance from the building itself, just in case.

  And there was also a good chance that the seven and the four on that map did mean 74. Whether that was a measurement, an address, or a code, I wouldn’t know.

  But if I was right about the date, I might be able to stop something ugly.

  Malcolm and Jimmy were already home when I arrived. They were sharing some lemonade at the kitchen table, the door to the hallway open so that the cool breeze from the air conditioner could filter into the room.

  They looked surprised to see me. I told them that I had seen Daniel, and the case was as hopeless as Malcolm had feared. Then I told them about the possibility of a bomb, and my plans to stop it.

  Jimmy pushed his lemonade away. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “How come it’s always gotta be you? How come nobody else can do this stuff?”

  “Just call the cops,” Malcolm said. “Let them deal with it.”

  I had poured myself a glass of lemonade and joined them at the table. “And be on record making a bomb threat? I don’t think so.”

  “They’d know it’s not a threat,” Malcolm said.

  “No, they wouldn’t,” I said. “A lot of groups call in the threats as warnings, just like I would be doing.”

  “They wouldn’t know it was you,” Malcolm said. “Right?”

  “In a city this big, if I don’t identify myself, they might not check the site.”

  “Why don’t I go?” Malcolm said. “You can stay with Jim, and be safe.”

  I smiled at him. It was a generous offer, but just as fruitless as calling the police. I didn’t say that, however.

  “I have surveillance training,” I said. “I know how to spot unusual activity, and how to stop it. You’re good, Malcolm, but not quite ready for an all-night stake-out alone in a strange city.”

  “So what if they bomb some place we never seen?” Jimmy asked. “It’s not our problem. You know where Daniel is now. Call Mrs. Kirkland and let’s go home.”

  I sighed. A lot of people would not only accept Jimmy’s reasoning, but act on it. I couldn’t.

  “We can walk away.” I put my arms on the table and leaned toward him. “There’s a good chance that nothing will happen. But what if something does? What if we find out on Saturday that a bomb went off and destroyed an entire building? What then?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Too bad, I guess.”

  “What if people were in that building? What if they died?”

  “We don’t know nobody here, Smoke.” He frowned. “It’d be sad, but we don’t know them.”

  “We should only help people we know?” I asked.

  He stared at me. His lips were pressed tightly together. He knew the answer I wanted him to give, and he wasn’t going to say it.

  “Okay,” I said into his silence. “What happens if among the people in that building was someone we know, like Laura or the Grimshaws or—”

  “They’re not here.”

  “Or maybe Laura’s lawyer, Mr. McMillan. You know him, but you don’t know where he is today. What happens if you find out he was in the building, and you could have saved his life by letting me go down there tonight?”

  Jimmy’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t like him.”

  “Does that matter?” I asked. “Liking or disliking, when he died in a way that could’ve been prevented.”

  “Stop,” Malcolm said. “We get the point. You’re not going to browbeat Jimmy into agreeing with it, because he’s not willing to sacrifice you.”

  Jimmy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “It’s a civil responsibility thing,” Malcolm said. “You gotta do what’s right.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Stupid argument,” Malcolm said, “because most people don’t do what’s right.”

  “I know that, too,” I said, “and I don’t want to be like those people.”

  Malcolm’s gaze met mine. Jimmy buried his head in his arms.

  “If something goes wrong,” I said, “and I don’t come back, you know where the van is. Take Jimmy back to Chicago. The Grimshaws will know what to do.”

  “After we know what happened to you,” Malcolm said.

  I shook my head. “Wait a few days. No one knows you’re here. If I can’t get back to you right away, I’ll meet you in Chicago. I don’t want you confronting Daniel. Stay away from him.”

  “I can handle myself,” Malcolm said.

  “I know, but I brought you along to take care of Jim. And that’s what I expect you to do.”

  Malcolm gave me a half smile. “That’s my civic responsibility.”

  “That’s right,” I said, “and I can’t think of anything more important.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  An hour later, armed with prepackaged snack food and two sodas, I left. I took the subway downtown. The train was mostly empty. The handful of people who rode it stared out the windows at nothing, looking miserable, as if they regretted still being in town this late on the night before a holiday.

&nb
sp; Jimmy had hugged me as I walked out the door, but he hadn’t entirely forgiven me for going. He considered the case closed now that Daniel was found, and nothing would change his mind. I understood Jimmy’s opposition, but for the night, he was safe. I simply wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t tried to do something.

  I got off the subway at the South Ferry Station, took the stairs up, and stopped when I reached the street. It took a moment to get my bearings.

  Battery Park looked the same as it always had, but the skyline to the north had changed somehow. I wasn’t sure what was different, because I wasn’t completely sure what had been there. But the air smelled the same: a combination of gas fumes, and the Upper Bay, exacerbated by the muggy night.

  It was just past twilight, and the streetlights had come up. I walked to Water Street and saw what had changed. An entire group of buildings was gone. The streets had changed, too. What I remembered as a warren of tiny blocks had become one big construction site.

  The steel frame of a huge building towered above me. I couldn’t tell exactly how tall this was, but I could tell the steel work wasn’t yet finished. A sign marked this the work of William Lescaze & Associates, and behind the name was an architectural drawing of a skyscraper. One New York Plaza, they called it, unoriginally, with offices for rent in the fall.

  I doubted they’d make their rental date, considering how much work was left on the building. This would have been a good target — Lord knew how many historical buildings had disappeared — but it was a block away from the corner of Whitehall and Pearl.

  I continued along Whitehall, crossing Water, and stopped, my breath catching. The building targeted on the map was so obvious that it hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  The Armed Forces Induction Center. Of course, it would be closed on the Fourth of July; all government buildings were. A bomb planted on that day, exploding that day, would have incredible significance.

  With the right kind of explosives, the building itself might just crumble. It had an old-fashioned air — a brick Victorian with a two-story granite foundation. Time hadn’t served it well: the foundation was dirty and cracked, the windows fogged from the day’s humidity, and some of the bricks above the second story had come loose.