22 -- Suspicion

 


 

"What do you make of it?" Chris asked Dan as they circled around the horseshoe towards the apartment again. A harsh sun engulfed the yard. It intrigued Lance. Dry heat seemed a contradiction in terms since Vietnam.

 "I'd say he's heard something," Dan mumbled. "And nothing good."

 "Maybe we should get out of town," Lance suggested, drawing Sarah out of a thoughtful mood, her eyes glaring at him.

 "What's the hurry?"

 "Didn't you hear what went on in there?" Lance asked. "We're caught in something awful here. People have died, and I've got an ugly feeling more are going to die before it's over. I don't want it to be one of us."

 "And just where would you propose we go?" Sarah asked suspiciously.

 Lance eyed Chris and swallowed hard. "L.A."

 "What? But you said..."

 "I changed my mind."

 "So have I," Sarah said as they reached the apartment door, her gaze searching the door to Gil's chamber across the bleached sunlight. "I want to stay here."

 "Here? In Phoenix?" Dan snorted as he pushed open the door. "Nobody wants that, for God's sake! Especially not with Summer coming on."

                  ***********

 "Mikie!" Marie yelped as Mike appeared, red-haired Jimmy holding open the door like a jailer. She ran and hugged him as the others stirred from their seats.

 "What did he say?" Chris demanded.

 Mike deposited Marie onto the couch and sat beside her. "Not a lot."

 "Two hours and he didn't say anything?" Dan growled, pulling on an end of his moustache. "Out with it, boy! We're all on your side."

 "Gil doesn't seem to think so."

 "What?" Dan boomed.

 "He thinks one of us is Demetre's spy."

 "He said that?" Chris asked, her face screwed up with rage.

 "Not in so many words. But he isn't going to let any of us leave here until he finds out for sure."

                 ***********

 "We can't stay," Lance told Gil once Jimmy had shuffled him before the man. The hall seemed larger and emptier, a cool darkness after the walk in the sun. It made Lance long for the north.

 "So, Jimmy told me," Gil said, his features wooden now in the dim light. Only the eyes looked alive, like pools of brown water with flames deep inside. "What exactly is so urgent?"

 "It's hard to explain."

 "Ah secrets," Gil said with a grim smile.

 "It's not like that!" Lance said. "It's personal."

 "There isn't much I don't already know from the others."

 "About me?" Lance said, startled. He had watched the others parade in and out as part of the process of interrogation, like prisoners of war. But he had presumed the others would speak only about themselves.

 "They told me what they knew," Gil said.

 "I am not Demetre's spy," Lance said coldly, feeling the accusation growing behind Gil's eyes. The others were known to him, people who had cross-connections with each other. But Lance and Sarah had only stumbled into this life of crime, an accident of fate putting them in the middle of the Western Drug circuit.

 "Then what are you doing here?" Gil asked.

 Lance laughed. "Looking for a place to settle down."

 "Your old lady says you stole some money."

 "Most of it's gone," Lance said. "Mis-spent in LA. What's left I figure to use as a grub stake. I hear Oregon's nice."

 "A lot of trees and rain," Gil said, suspicion edging out of his voice.

 "So can we leave?"

 "Soon," Gil said. "One more question."

 "Yes?"

 "Are you Buckingham?"

 The tremble in his voice said something about the panic, but Gil's hard eyes remained fixed on Lance's, waiting for an answer, watching for the reaction.

 "No," Lance said softly. "I'm not."

                 ***********

 "One of them is lying," Gil said, pacing back and forth across the front of the fireplace. "I can feel it in my bones."

 "About what?" Mike said, seated in one of the chairs.

 "I don't know," Gil said. "How much do you know about your girlfriend? Of all, she's revealed the least."

 "She has nothing to reveal," Mike said. "She's just a pampered little rich girl."

 "Then what's she doing with you?"

 "Looking for cheap thrills."

 "Nothing more?"

 "Maybe more," Mike said with a sigh. "But I hope not. I don't need a deep relationship in my life."

 "But she clings to you?"

 "And will as long as she thinks her father's chasing her."

 "Is he?"

 "Not lately."

 "And you're sure she's not a spy?"

 "For who?"

 "Her father. The FBI. For Demetre even."

 Mike shook his head. "She's too stupid to be a spy."

 "One never knows," Gil said. "Stupidity is a clever disguise."

 "If you're worried, let us go. You've already answered my questions about Buckingham."

 "Rumors and my fears. I know nothing more of him."

 "Except that he wants to get rid of you."

 "Me or anybody else in his path. But I can't let you go until I know more about what happened to the Albuquerque shipment. Knowing who has it would answer other more serious questions."

 "I think Demetre has it."

 Gil shook his head. "Not me. For him it is bait."

 "Buckingham, then?"

 "Maybe," Gil mumbled. "Maybe him."

                 ***********

 "I'm scared, too," Mike said, the dark around him like a shroud. He had lost count of the nights here, though recalled at least three.

 "What are you scared of?" Gil asked, seated beside him one of the great chairs, the dying fire the only source of light, flickering up from time to time, revealing bit of bookcase or desk.

 "I'm scared of being caged," Mike said, taking a long hit on the joint before passing it back. "I don't just mean jail. Everything is closing up, buildings and highways and fences filling up the countryside like a disease."

 "And you're going to L.A.?"

 "Only till I can find a ticket out."

 "To where?" Gil asked, turning just enough for Mike to see the fire in his eyes. "Where aren't they building fences?"

 Mike shrugged. "I haven't figured that part out. What would you have me do, stay here and join Chris' revolution?"

 "Only if you want to die with it," Gil mumbled, staring again straight into the fire. "I'd join it myself if I thought it would work. But they'll wind up like the Panthers, shot to pieces by the cops. No one'll put up with free Indians or anything else."

 "Where then? Red China? The Soviet Union? I thought about Cuba, but that's a prison, too. There must be someplace free."

 Gil sucked the joint. "Maybe there is," he said. "But I haven't found it. And I doubt you will either."


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