“Listen to what the war protesters are saying, next time you turn on the news. Some of them call it a Vietnamese civil war and say the U.S. has no right to interfere. Some are going so far as to take the side of Ho Chi Minh, as if he’s some kind of freedom fighter and the U.S. is the aggressor. They twist the truth into lies, and the kids in this nation are naïve enough to swallow it. These ideas spread like a cancer. Once enough Americans start thinking that maybe we shouldn’t fight the Communists, maybe we should let them do their thing and mind our own business, that’s when the enemy has won.”
“But that’s not the message rock music is selling,” Ed protested. “They’re pushing peace, not surrender to Ho Chi Minh.”
Tom wiped his mouth daintily with his napkin. “I like that you used the word ‘selling.’ Okay, point taken. But think about this. If kids hear this message of peace, and they start to think that peace is the answer to everything, like those Beatles are always singing in their songs, then some of the kids will grow up believing that peace is more important than anything.”
“Well, isn’t it?” asked Ed. He was vaguely uncomfortable with where Tom was taking this.
“No!” Tom shook his head emphatically. “Peace is admirable, but there are other things that are more important. Freedom, for example. Isn’t freedom something people should fight for? Kill or die for, if necessary? That’s what this war is about—preserving freedom for the South Vietnamese and any other countries that’ll be gobbled up by the Communists if we lose. The leftists want you to think the war is about American GIs torturing civilians, shooting children, interfering in a foreign civil war. But that’s all misdirection. This war is about freedom, Ed. Something a lot of people take for granted. That’s more important than peace, because peace without freedom is an abomination.”
“It’s not that I don’t agree with you, but―”
Tom finished for him. “But you don’t see a connection between the fight for freedom over there and the fight we find ourselves in here at home.”
“I wasn’t going to put it that way.”
“That’s all right,” Tom said. He took a sip of his water. His glass left a circle of condensation on the table, and when he set the glass back down he placed it in exactly the same spot. “There are some things you and I will never agree on. But grant me this, at least: it will be very bad for this country if we lose in Vietnam.”
“Hell,” Ralph said, “that goes without saying.”
Tom was looking directly at Ed as he said, “Everything we talk about here stays in the Buick, right?” He waited for the others to nod. “The President’s current policy is obviously not working. Everyone can see that. Out of fear of upsetting the Soviets, we’re letting the enemy control the fight. But you have to admit it would be worse to pull out and leave the South to be devoured by the NVA. Think how many thousands of innocent people would die if we abandoned them. Do you want that to happen, Ed?”
Ed swallowed the last bite of his salmon with a grimace. “No.”
“Well,” Tom said, lowering his voice until Ed had to strain to hear him, “that’s what the real danger is now. Johnson has announced that he’s out as of January. He’s not going to run for another term.”
“That’s great!” exclaimed Ralph.
Maggie frowned. “So why are we here, then? Are you still planning to―”
“We’re here because the plan has changed,” Tom said. “Lyndon Johnson has been a disaster. What we need to do is make sure whoever comes next isn’t worse.”
“Who do you think it’ll be?” asked Ralph.
“Kennedy.”
Ed stared at his empty plate. So the deal was changing.
Ralph grunted. “I don’t like him.”
“I’ll tell you,” Kajdas said, leaning in close to Ralph and Maggie, “I’m not in love with the fella either. But this is about what happens if he wins this fall. As soon as he takes office, the troops come out of Vietnam. He’s made his position on the war very clear. He wants to pull out and let the North take over. I will not let that happen.”
“What do you need us to do?” Ralph asked.
“Couple things,” Tom said. “Maggie, have you been able to get in touch with your friend, the one I was asking you about? We’re calling him Hans, correct? I know a man who would like to talk with him.”
* * *
The cool air outside felt good after the stuffiness of the restaurant. The rain had stopped, and the lights outside reflected dully off of the wet surface of the pavement. Tom and Ed walked across the parking lot to their cars, splashing through the shallow puddles on the ground.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Tom said.
“It’s no trouble. Free dinner is never any trouble.” He looked over and grinned to make sure Tom didn’t take that the wrong way.
“Can you get in the car for a minute?”
Ed climbed into the spacious passenger seat and shut the door, while Kajdas plopped himself down in the driver’s seat. Tom lit a cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke as he put his head back against the headrest. “I should have warned you first,” he said. “I realize this isn’t what you had agreed to.”
“No,” Ed said curtly, “it’s not.”
“Things change very fast in my line of work. I should’ve done a better job of preparing you for that.”
“Would’ve been nice.”
Tom pursed his lips in a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He cleared his throat. “Check under your seat.” Ed reached down and found a pair of envelopes. “The one with cash in it is for you,” Kajdas went on. “Don’t open it till you get home. See if that’s enough to make up for changing the deal on you. I’ll try to talk Albert into making the second installment a little bigger, too.” He didn’t look at Ed as he said this. He seemed embarrassed to talk about it.
“What’s in the other one?”
“The heavy one is for Mr. Rosenthal in Ballistics. I’d like you to take that one—be careful with it!—take it to him when you go to work on Monday. Can you do that for me?”
From Kajdas’ tone, Ed gathered what his real question was. Are you still with me? Ed looked out the window for a long moment. “I have to say yes, don’t I? Albert still has me over a barrel.”
The parking lot lights hid half of Kajdas’ face in shadow, highlighting the lines around his eyes. “Ed, I want you to know I’m trying to look out for you. I may have a funny way of doing that sometimes, but Albert... Albert doesn’t know you the way I do. He’s not all that subtle. If he wants someone to help him, he first finds a way to own them. I don’t like to work that way.”
“But you do it anyway.”
“He’s not a very nice man, but that’s got nothing to do with it. He and I are changing the world. You and I, Ralph and Maggie—we’re all on the verge of achieving something important. Albert’s methods aren’t the best, but his goals are laudable. You’ll see, once this is all finished. It’ll all be worth it.”
Ed sighed. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“You always have a choice. It’s just that your options aren’t what you’d like them to be.”
“Just don’t change the deal again.”
“I wish I could promise that. But think about what I was saying in there. Lives depend on this. Every soldier killed in this war is a terrible tragedy, but think what would happen if we turned tail and ran. South Vietnam gets swallowed up, and then where does it end? Millions of people could die. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe it was right.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” said Ed, wishing he could be as sure as he sounded.
He got out of the car, gripping the two envelopes tightly to keep from spilling their contents onto the wet pavement. As he got into his Barracuda, he told himself he was doing the right thing. He had to say it to himself several times before it stuck, but by the time he was halfway home it almost felt true. Not that it mattered; he was bought and paid for either way.
* * *
Big John was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the stairs. He paused for a minute outside the door to compose himself; it would do him no good to answer Arthur’s summons looking like a sweaty, winded hippopotamus. When he was ready, he knocked once on the door of his leader’s chamber.
One of Arthur’s girls let him in. She kept her eyes on the floor and said nothing to him, making no attempt to cover herself. The girls in Arthur’s house were not permitted to speak to the men unless spoken to, and eye contact was only allowed during copulation.
John entered the bedroom and waited patiently by the door while Arthur finished what he was doing. It only took a minute. After completing his task with a few final grunts, Arthur got out of bed and put on a bathrobe while two other girls got up and began collecting their clothes. Then the girls departed, leaving John alone with his leader. John waited until Arthur addressed him.
“John, I’m going to send you away,” Arthur said without preamble as he knotted his sash.
John felt a sudden wave of dread. This was not what he had been expecting. “Lord Orc, why? Have I done something wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that.” Arthur took a swig from a bottle he kept on the nightstand. “I have some work for you to do.”
John tried to hide his relief. “Work?”
“We are all equal before God,” said Arthur, “and I can’t play favorites when the others are around. But you, John, have served the Society more faithfully than the others. You’ve come a long way in a very short time.”
John grinned despite himself. “I believe in what you’re doing, Lord Orc. I love the Society.”
“I know you do, John. You’ll be among the few when the day comes. But we have more enemies out there. Enemies and rivals.”
“Is there someone else you want me to take care of?”
Arthur smiled. “You’ve done nice work so far. There’s one more I need your help with. But this time it will take more than brute strength. In your previous life, did you ever work undercover?”
“No, sir.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine. There’s a group not far from here. A little like our group, but they don’t share our ideals. I want that group to self-destruct. I want them to be so completely annihilated that they can never recover. At the same time, I want to use them to send a message to your friend, the prophet. Clearly we’re not going to get through to him any other way. John, you are going to help the Society take its rightful place in the world. When we’re done, I will have no rivals, and Terwilliger will have no choice but to join us.”
“I’d like that,” said John.
“Today you and I are going to have an argument.”
“Lord Orc, I wouldn’t―”
“We are going to have an argument,” Arthur repeated firmly, “and I’m going to throw you out of Society House. You will go to these people I mentioned and tell them your story, and they will welcome you as someone they think they can use against me. Once inside, you will become one of them. A faithful follower. When you have gained their trust—however long it takes—you will convince them to kill some people for me. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Lord Orc.”
“Once you’ve carried out your mission, I think your friend Ed will be willing to join us in our fight.”
John frowned. “If you try to force him, he’ll keep resisting you. That Guru has him all confused.”
“Forcing him will do no good,” Arthur agreed. “He’ll have to think it’s his own decision. If you’re successful, that shouldn’t be hard.”
For the next hour they went over Arthur’s plan in detail. Arthur wrote down the names and addresses of his enemies for John to memorize, then set fire to the paper and let it burn in the trash can. They agreed on a way for John to send a signal to Arthur when he was ready, and for Arthur to notify John when it was time to proceed with the mission.
No one else in the Society would be told the truth. To all the others, John would be a traitor. Only he and Arthur would know where his true loyalties lay. “You will be hated,” Arthur said gravely. “If you do this for me, you’ll find the rest of the Society despises you. Are you willing to sacrifice their love to serve your Lord?”
John swallowed. “I’ll do anything for Lord Orc,” he said, unable to mask the trepidation in his voice.
Arthur embraced him. “Then you’ll do well.”
* * *
Ed found Doris sitting on his couch when he got home, an oversized atlas laying open on her lap. She looked up and smiled when he came in, but her smile quickly faded when she looked into his eyes. “Bad dinner?” she asked.
Ed shut the door and sagged back against it with a groan of exhaustion. “Dinner was all right.”
“I don’t know why you keep spending time with that man. Every time you talk to him, you come back looking like hell.”
“It’s complicated.” He shoved off from the door and shuffled over to plop himself down next to her on the couch.
Doris closed the book and moved it to the table. “No, you just think it’s complicated. If you don’t want to have dinner with him, then say no next time.”
Ed snorted. “I don’t think Tom likes ‘no.’”
“Then let him go to hell! Time’s too precious to waste on people like that.” She smiled devilishly. “You could be wasting it on me instead.”
He tried not to smile, but the right side of his mouth curled upward of its own accord.
“There you go,” Doris murmured, leaning closer to him. “No more Mister Frowny-frown.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Don’t answer it,” whispered Doris, still hovering mere inches from his face.
The knock came again, more urgent this time. Ed couldn’t help but glance over at the door.
Doris narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll answer the damn door.” She stalked over and hurled it open.
Maggie stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with surprise. “Is this Ed’s place?”
Doris, her frown growing deeper by the second, grunted in the affirmative. Ed got quickly to his feet, but was afraid to go any closer to the two women, who were regarding each other like a pair of feral cats.
Maggie spotted Ed and squeezed past Doris. “He left something at the bar,” she said, smiling sweetly at him. She opened her purse and took out a small, black object, which she dangled in front of him playfully. “I thought you’d be wanting this, sweetie,” she said. He had to crane his neck backward to see that the object was his wallet.
He reached out and grabbed it from her, stuffing it hurriedly into his pocket. Then he glanced over at Doris, who still stood holding the door open and regarding Maggie with an appraising look, as though sizing her up for a fight. Maggie had a good eight or ten inches of height on her, but Ed thought Doris would have the advantage of sheer scrappiness if it came to that. “Th-thanks for stopping by,” he mumbled to Maggie.
She leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, pressing her breasts up against him. “You’re welcome,” she whispered in his ear. Her breath was hot. “I was hoping you’d be alone.”
Ed cleared his throat, painfully aware that Doris watching. “I’m—uh—I’m not.”
Maggie gave him a regretful smile. “Next time, maybe,” she murmured. Glancing over at Doris and speaking louder, she added, “You could do a lot better than that, you know.” She gave his shoulder a long squeeze, then turned casually and walked back to the door.
“Have a nice evening, kid,” she said to Doris as she sauntered past, looking conspicuously down at Doris’ chest with a smirk as she passed.
“Get out before I throw you out,” Doris shot back.
Maggie stopped and looked down her nose at Doris, hands on her hips in an arrogant pose. “Throw me out?” She gasped incredulously. “You? I’d like to see you try.”
Doris took a step toward Maggie, her upper lip curled in a snarl, while Maggie drew back a fist and prepa
red to swing. Ed hurried over and put a hand on Doris’ shoulder. “Thanks again, Maggie,” he said in an unnaturally high voice. “I had a nice dinner with you and Tom and that other person.” What was his name? “Ron. Ralph.” The last thing he needed was for Doris to think he had something going with this Maggie girl. “I’ll be in touch with Tom.” No need for you to come here again, he didn’t say.
Maggie shot one last glare at Doris, then turned to Ed and smiled her prettiest smile again. “Let’s do it again soon,” she cooed. Then she was out the door and down the stairs before Doris could lay a hand on her.
“Bitch,” Doris muttered.
“So―” Ed’s voice cracked; he cleared his throat and started over. “Where were we?”
“I was just going to bed.” She stalked into his bedroom and locked the door, leaving him alone with his book of Blake.
26
A Classy Affair
“You look worried.”
Tom sipped his lemonade to keep from grimacing. Maggie was altogether too excited about this thing she was about to do. He swallowed, lips puckering from the sourness of the drink. “Worried? Nah. We’ve gone over everything plenty of times. Just make sure Hans is where he’s supposed to be.”
He and Maggie were sitting in an outdoor café on Wilshire. The early-afternoon sun was in his eyes. Between the rumble of traffic and the murmur of the other diners around them, Tom doubted that anyone could overhear. And if they did, a name like Hans would mean nothing to them.
“Bill said his sessions with Hans turned out very well,” he went on. “Although he would’ve liked a few more weeks to prepare. From what he tells me, the boy shouldn’t remember a thing.”
“He does seem confused,” Maggie said. “I don’t think he has any idea what’s happening.”
Forest of the Mind (The Book of Terwilliger 1) Page 24
