“It’s ASP. They’re planning something major league. And it’s going down tonight!”
“How do you know?”
“Some of the regulars at the Bluebell spilled it. I’ve been pallin’ around with them for days. They think I’m one of them. Hell, they’ve practically drafted me.”
“Are you sure the big event hasn’t already happened? They made a raid on Coi Than Tien earlier this evening.”
“This is somethin’ else. Starts at midnight. A special meeting.”
“At their camp?”
“No. Some super-secret meeting place. I don’t know where.”
“Well, groups like ASP probably hold secret meetings all the time. Why are you so excited about this one?”
“Because the ASP clowns ain’t callin’ it a meeting.”
“Yeah?”
“They’re callin’ it a trial.”
60.
“ATRIAL? OF WHAT?”
“I don’t know, Skipper. But it’s gotta have somethin’ to do with Vick. Hell, maybe they’re gonna try the guy who really killed Vuong.”
“More likely they’d give him a merit badge.”
“Perhaps,” Colonel Nguyen suggested, “Grand Dragon Dunagan is on trial. For his testimony against one of his own.”
“That seems unlikely,” Ben said, deep in thought.
“I heard somethin’ else about this big meet,” Loving added. “The boys at the Bluebell said the armory was open. They’re all gunning up. Skipper, this is gonna be big!”
Colonel Nguyen lowered his head. “It is as I feared. Armageddon. They are arming, we are arming. We will destroy one another.”
“Did you hear anything else about this meeting?” Ben asked.
“No. That’s all I could get out of ’em.”
“A trial,” Ben repeated. “I just don’t know what that could mean. But I agree—it must relate to Donald Vick. And it might just fill in the missing pieces and explain what really happened to Tommy Vuong. Thanks for the ace detective work, Loving. If I weren’t so busy, I’d give you a kiss.”
Loving looked horrified. “Skipper!”
“Stay calm, Loving. Just a joke.” Ben took a deep breath. “I’m going to go.”
“What? Go where?”
“To the ASP secret meeting.”
“You can’t! Skipper, those guys’ll rip your skull off your shoulders if they see you!”
“I’ll have to take that chance.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“No. You take Christina home. And don’t leave her alone. If there’s trouble tonight, it could spread throughout the entire town.”
“But how will you find the meeting place? I told you, it ain’t at their camp. I don’t know where it is.”
“Neither do I,” Ben said as he grabbed his windbreaker. “But I know someone who does.”
To Ben’s dismay, Sheriff Gustafson was the only peace officer on duty at the jailhouse.
“I want to see my client,” Ben said. “Immediately.”
Gustafson’s upper lip curled. “Do you, now? Well, that’s a shame. Because I don’t believe I care to let you in.”
“You don’t have any choice. He has a constitutional right to counsel.”
“During the trial, sure. But as I understand it, the trial is over. All but the fat lady singing, anyway.”
“I don’t have time for this crap. I want to speak to Sheriff Collier. Where is he?”
“Out at Coi Than Tien. Seems those Vietnamese folks had another spot of trouble out there. He went to investigate. In fact, everyone on duty did.” He smiled, baring all his teeth. “Except me.”
Ben reached down, grabbed Gustafson’s brown tie and twisted it around his fist. “Listen to me, you stupid simple-minded son of a bitch. I’ve had about as much of you as I can take. You got your licks in on me last week, and I didn’t say a word about it afterward.”
“Because you were scared shitless.”
“Wrong. Because I have a sister, too, and I wouldn’t like it if someone hurt her. In fact, I’d be mad as hell and I’d probably want to kill the man who did it. But enough is enough. I didn’t have anything to do with that firebombing and I don’t have time to screw around with some redneck moron trying to alleviate his guilt by throwing his weight in my way. So give me the goddamn keys!”
Gustafson peered at Ben through narrowed eyes. And a few moments later he slid the metal key chain across his desk.
“Thanks for your cooperation.” Ben snatched the key chain and unlocked the back door that led to the cells.
As before, all the cells were empty except for Vick’s.
“We’ve got to talk,” Ben said.
Vick’s face was lined with concern. “Has the jury returned?”
“They’re still deliberating. That’s not what I want to talk about. ASP is having some kind of top-secret special meeting tonight in a top-secret special location. And I want to know where it is.”
“I’ve been in this cell for weeks. I don’t know—”
“Spare me the ignorance routine. How many special meeting places can they have? You must have some idea where they’re gathering.”
“M-Mr. Kincaid …” He looked down at the floor. “I swore an oath.”
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
“But I promised—”
“And I am sick to death of hearing about your insipid promises! Let me tell you something, pal. I’m the only friend you’ve got in this town. You were determined to stick your neck in a noose, and for some crazy reason, I was determined to get it out, even if I stuck my own neck in there in the process. I have a chance now to solve this whole gigantic mess, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it pass just because you swore some stupid ASP oath!”
Ben gripped the metal bars between them. His eyes burned a line straight into Vick’s. “I’ve done the best I could for you. And you haven’t done a damn thing for me. But that’s going to change. Starting right now.”
61.
BEN INCHED THROUGH THE tall green pines surrounding the Aryan Covenant Church. The forest was dark and almost deathly quiet. But Ben knew the peace was an illusion. Violent forces were at work. All he could hope to do was to avoid them for as long as possible.
The church building was dark; there was no sign of movement inside. But Vick had prepared him for this. He wouldn’t be fooled by appearances.
He crept around to the back of the church, between the kennel and the garage. Dried leaves crackled underfoot, reminding him that each step could easily be his last. Despite his anxiousness to get inside, he had to go slow. He had to be careful.
He held his breath as he tiptoed past the dog kennel. Brother Curtis’s hunting dogs appeared to be sleeping on the other side of the pen. Lucky break—a chorus of angry barking would bring everyone running.
Ben tiptoed past the garage and headed toward the back of the church. He heard a sudden clattering noise and froze.
He looked all around him. Where had the noise come from? Had he been spotted? He didn’t see anyone. Not that he could see much of anything in this pitch blackness.
He wiped his brow and took deep steady breaths, trying to still his racing heartbeat. His hands were shaking and his teeth were rattling. He tried to tell himself to relax, that if the ASPers caught him, they probably wouldn’t hurt him. It was useless. He knew better.
Just as he was about to push off, he heard the clattering noise again, this time even louder than before.
It was coming from the garage.
As quietly as humanly possible, he crept to the front garage door, a wide descending door the width of two cars. The door was down, but there was a row of windows across the top, just above Ben’s eye level.
Leaning gently against the door, Ben pushed up on his toes and peered through the window. The overhead garage light was off, but a kerosene lamp was lit. There were two men inside. Ben didn’t know their names, but he recognized them from the ASP parade. They h
ad been at the front, close to Dunagan.
And now they were standing on opposite sides of a pickup. A black pickup.
At least partially black. One of the men held a paintbrush; the other was wielding a spray gun. They were painting the pickup red.
So that was how it was done. These ASP thugs would make their raids on Coi Than Tien, then retreat to this church garage, barely a hundred yards away. Small wonder they were never caught; they would be safely tucked away long before the sheriff arrived. Then the painting would begin. By the time the sheriff thought to look in the church garage, if he did, the pickup would be painted and all traces of the operation would be washed away.
Ben noticed that the pickup’s two left tires were flat, although he saw two new tires nearby. The men would probably put them on as soon as the painting was completed. The rear window had been shattered. That would be harder to replace. It looked like Coi Than Tien got a few good licks in. Neither of the men appeared to be wounded, however.
Pity.
That resolved one mystery, but there was still more Ben wanted to know before he returned to town. He was just about to push away from the garage when he heard a voice behind him.
“Don’t move.”
Ben jumped a foot into the air. Panicked, he whirled around and saw—
Christina. Christina!
“I said, ‘Don’t move,’ ” she hissed. “Do you want a tête-à-tête with those goons in the garage?”
“Christina!” She was dressed in black from head to toe—black turtleneck, black jeans. She was carrying a satchel over her shoulder.
They moved away from the garage so they wouldn’t be heard. “How did you get here?”
“I followed you, obviously.”
“But—why?”
“Someone has to keep an eye on you, Ben. Let’s face it, you get lost going home from the grocery store. I’m surprised you made it this far.”
“But—I mean—you wouldn’t help me before—”
“Is that a fact? Who do you think called in Mike and Jones and Loving?”
“I—” Actually he hadn’t even thought about it. “But I mean, about the trial—”
“The trial is over. Or all but.”
“Yes, but—”
“Look, Ben, I still don’t like this a bit. Taking this case was sheer stupidity on your part. And just when I thought you were starting to treat me like an equal partner, you blow me off and decide to represent the local fascist! I didn’t understand that at all. I still don’t.” She paused. “But I won’t let you get yourself killed.”
Ben bit down on his lip. He wasn’t going to spoil the occasion by asking more inane questions. “You know, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of this myself.”
“Yeah, right. Let’s just get on with it.”
“Those men in the garage are the ones who’ve been terrorizing Coi Than Tien.”
“Thanks. I figured that much out for myself.”
“I wish I had brought a camera.”
“And you think you’re perfectly capable of taking care of this yourself.” She opened her satchel and pulled out Jones’s hand-size video camera. “Here, 007. It’s all charged and ready to go.”
“Will it shoot in the dark?”
“Well enough. It has a high lux rating.”
Ben took the camera and crept back to the garage door. After taking about a minute’s worth of footage, he decided he had enough to put them away for a good long time.
“Follow me.” Ben led her to the back of the church.
“Surely we’re not going to walk in the backdoor.”
“No, we’re not.” He stopped in front of the sheet-metal cellar doors.
“This big meeting is being held in the cellar?”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” Ben opened one of the double doors and stepped down a ladder within.
The room at the bottom was not well lit, but there was enough spillover that Ben could tell this was more than an ordinary cellar. The walls were lined with shelves, and the shelves were filled with papers, plans, and photographs.
“What is this?” Christina whispered.
“Unless I miss my guess, this is the real ASP war room. Where all the nasty plans are made. They probably moved all the incriminating material here so the DA wouldn’t find it when he searched the camp. Or maybe it was always here. Much closer to Coi Than Tien, after all.”
Christina pointed toward an open doorway. There was some sort of murmuring noise from the next room. Singing? No—chanting.
“Is that where the big meeting is?” she asked.
“Let’s find out.”
Holding his breath and stepping as lightly as possible, Ben passed through the doorway into the next room.
The immediate increase in lighting was blinding at first. This was a much larger room. Ben saw a sign that identified it as FELLOWSHIP HALL. How ironic. He realized they were still below ground level; that’s why the lights were not visible from outside.
ASP was congregated at the other end of the hall, huddled in a circle around a long table. Grand Dragon Dunagan stood behind the table in full ASP regalia.
Ben and Christina crept forward and hid behind a tall stack of boxes containing bottled water. They were still out of the ASPers’ sight, but close enough to hear what was going on.
Ben poked his head cautiously around the side of the boxes. Fortunately all the ASP men’s eyes were trained on Dunagan.
“Has the jury returned a verdict?” Dunagan asked, in deep, solemn tones.
What was this? Had the jury returned while he was out creeping through the forest?
“We have.” One of the ASP men approached. Ben could see that he was standing to one side with eleven others. Dunagan wasn’t talking about the Vick trial jury; he was talking about a jury of his own.
The man handed Dunagan a small scrap of paper. Dunagan read it, smiled, then crumpled it in his fist. “The jury finds Donald Vick guilty in absentia of high treason.”
The crowd cheered. After thunderous applause and shouting they fell into a chant. “Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood!” they shouted, fists raised in the air.
“Donald Vick has committed the cardinal sin,” Dunagan proclaimed. “Treason against ASP. For reasons entirely his own, he betrayed us all, disregarding his oath and performing acts at odds with our hallowed goals. His name shall be stricken from the rolls of ASP. It shall be as if he was never there. He is dead.”
More cheers. Dunagan’s last words echoed in Ben’s ears. He wondered if that was a proclamation, or a prediction.
Ben slapped his forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Christina frowned. “What?”
“I should’ve been taping this whole disgusting assembly. Hand me the camcorder.”
“Let this be a warning to all our enemies,” Dunagan cried out. His voice soared in pitch and volume. “ASP will mete out retribution to those who oppose us, whether they lie without or within.”
“Blood, blood, blood,” the ASP men chanted. “Death, death, death!
The cry filled the room, so loud it made Ben’s bones shake. He gripped the camera tightly and tried to prevent his trembling from spoiling the picture.
“They certainly have esprit de corps, don’t they?” Christina whispered.
“Too much for my taste.”
Dunagan continued his sermon. “Those who challenge us will perish as surely as all the godforsaken nonwhite races will die in the flames of Christ’s fiery sword. We have slaughtered our enemies before. And we shall do so again.”
This time the chanting persisted for more than a full minute. Ben swept the room with his camera, trying to make sure everyone got in the picture. Say cheese, ASP.
Dunagan raised his right hand, and his followers quickly did the same. He began to recite, and every man in the room joined him. They all knew it by heart.
“I am an Aryan. I serve the forces that guard my Aryan race. I am prepared to give my life in defense of my
race.”
Their voices swelled, chanting in unison. “I am an Aryan. I will never betray other Aryan people. I will fight the enemies of the Aryan race with my dying breath. I will never surrender.
“I am an Aryan,” they continued. “If I am incarcerated, I will remember at all times my duty as an Aryan. As a political prisoner of war, I will answer only with my age, name, and address when questioned. I will resist any activity harmful to the Aryan race. I will obey the orders of my superior officers at all times.”
The oath continued for three more verses, followed by cheers and shouts. Ben kept the camera rolling. Finally Dunagan waved down the noise. “You may also wish to know that tonight’s incursion against the infidels at Coi Than Tien was a complete success.”
Another spontaneous cheer, raising the rafters. Ben began to fear the meeting would disintegrate into a riot.
“Every time we act, our enemies become a little weaker, a little less able to resist. Soon they will give up, recognizing defeat. They will leave this place to the Anglo-Saxon races to whom it rightfully belongs. Tonight’s operation went entirely as planned, according to my orders.”
Ben gripped the camera all the tighter, focusing tightly on Dunagan’s face. Thank you for the confession, Mr. Grand Dragon. I think you just said enough to get yourself convicted of felony murder.
Ben was so focused on Dunagan’s confession he didn’t hear the sneakered footsteps approaching behind him.
“Intruder!” The shout was long and loud, silencing the assembly.
A pair of hands thudded down on Ben’s shoulders, causing him to drop the camera. He tried to break away, but another pair of hands twisted his arms tightly behind his back.
“Christina! Run!”
Too late. They had her. One of them grabbed her satchel, another had an arm around her neck. She fought and kicked, but it was no use. They were much too powerful for her.
“There’s two of them!” the man holding Ben shouted.
Dunagan’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Ben. When he finally spoke, it was almost like a growl.
“Bring them to me.”
62.
Perfect Justice bk-4 Page 26
