35 -- The shipment
Hours later, Lance climbed the
stairs-- each step draining the last of his strength as if weeks on the road
had drained him. He opened the door and tossed the wrinkled newspaper onto a
small round table just inside.
"Sarah?" he called.
A faint reply rose from one of the rooms
deeper into the apartment. He closed and locked the door behind him, still
shaken by his meeting with Billy and the perpetual sense of being watched. The
whole walk home, he'd eyed around him, trying to catch sight of someone,
finding only his own lengthening shadow.
The apartment had taken a few staggered steps
back to its old form, a table here, a wall hanging there. Even the beaded
curtain separating the hall from the main room had been replaced. Nick-knacks
and spice shakers decorated the kitchen's serving bar and he peek around it
into the kitchen.
No Sarah.
A frying pan with the remnants of burned egg
said she'd eaten. He hadn't. But the stale smell did not appeal to him. He
flicked on the hood fan, noting the full cabinets of dishes and canned good.
Sarah had been busy.
He called again, and again came the reply,
muffled by the beaded curtain. He crossed the room and pushed it aside, the
tingle of glass part of Sarah's oriental motif. Huge pillows. Low tables. Water
color wall coverings. All reminding him of a time and place he didn't like to
think about, but thought about often.
The hall felt cooler and the scent of eggs
vanished into one of laundry soap and fresh linen. The open closet to the right
held both and both reminded him of home.
Not here. But his uncle's home back east.
The urge to soak in a warm tub struck him as
he peeked into the bathroom. It was empty, too. As was Dan's room through the
open door at the end of the hall. That left the master bedroom whose door was
closed.
He tapped lightly, feeling odd. He'd never been
total comfortable here. The wall to wall carpeting and large rooms making it
seem like a motel or someone else's home. No one answered his knock, though
Sarah could be in no other room.
"Sarah, are you in here?" he said,
twisting the handle. It was not locked and the door fell open onto a scene of
half unpacked suitcases and Sarah seated back to him on the bed. "Sarah.
Can't you-- what's wrong?"
She transmitted pain with her hunched
shoulders and her slumped head-- a head moving slowly side to side. She turned
at his approach, her face pale and her eyes stitched open into an expression of
horror.
"I--I found something," she
stuttered, and indicated one of the suitcases on the floor at her feet. Lance
recognized the tan zig-zag pattern from their first trip west-- one of the
cheap, worn suitcases her father had given her long before that. The inside,
however, had something Lance had never seen before: bags and bags of dope.
Pharmaceutical quality stuff marked with the
drug company name and dosage. Some still with the original cardboard backing.
Most of it loose. One bag of pills looked particularly familiar, matching the
shape and color of those Gil had given them in Phoenix, the pills still deep in
his pocket.
"The shipment," he whispered with
horror of his own, then sagged down onto the bed beside Sarah, staring at the
brown splotches that stained some of the bags. Brown splotches of Gil's blood.
***********
The others stared down into the suitcase, each
looking as dumbfounded as Lance felt-- and with the same edge of uncertainty in
their eyes.
"How did it get in Sarah's
suitcase?" Lance asked. "It couldn't have been there when the cops
stopped us."
"Maybe they put it there," Dan said,
a long brown cigarette dangling forgotten from his lips, the smoke curling up
into the folds of his floppy hat.
"Why on earth would they do that?"
Sarah asked in the same strained voice she'd used in answering him earlier. She
looked ready to explode into tears. The violated apartment had been one thing;
but this seemed to have come right under their noses.
"Don't ask me," Dan said. "I
don't even know why they let us go."
"The question is: what do we do with
it," Mike said. He and Marie had slipped in quietly during the initial
shock. Now all Lance wanted to do was bar the doors and windows and hide
beneath the bed.
Buckingham here?
"Why's that a problem?" Dan asked.
"Because someone's going to come looking
for it sooner or later," Mike mumbled. "We've obviously been their
mule for bringing it to town. We ought to bury it somewhere safe."
"And where would that be?" Dan
asked.
Mike shrugged. Marie shuddered, but licked her
lips as she eyed the selection. "I don't know."
"I don't think we ought to move it,"
Dan said, drawing a panicked glare from Lance who wanted it out as quick as
possible, even if it wound up in the trash. "And since the place has been
searched twice already, we're better off leaving it."
"That's crazy," Lance objected.
"Better yet, let's stick the thing in the
closet and call for a party," Dan said.
"What?" Lance roared.
"It only makes sense," Dan said.
"It'll seem like we have nothing to hide."
"No, no, no, no, no," Lance said,
rising from the bed to face the others. "That'll put us in the limelight
more."
"It would look normal," Dan said.
"But I'm sick of that kind of
normal," Lance growled. "That's what we went on the road to
escape."
"I think it's a good idea," Sarah
said, her eyes expression suddenly cheerful again with the prospect of being at
the center of Hollywood hip society again.
"Me, too," Marie agreed, still
eyeing the dope.
Mike shook his head. "It sounds
risky," he said. "It seems dangerous to call attention to this place,
dope or no dope."
"But they already know we're here,"
Dan argued. "And how we normally live. We start acting different someone
will suspect something."
Mike sighed. "You're just weaving a web
for Bobo," he said, eyeing Dan carefully. "But since I'm not going to
be around here for a while, I suppose you can take what risks you want."
Marie looked up sharply. "Are we going
somewhere?" she asked.
"Not we, me," Mike said. "I
have an appointment."
"But you can't leave me here alone!"
Marie protested, looking hurt and scared. Lance guessed she'd not been far from
Mike's side since hooking up with him.
"You won't be alone," Mike assured
her. "You'll be here with the others. They'll take care of you."
"But why can't I come?" she asked.
Mike glanced up at Dan-- some private message
passed between them which Lance only guessed at. But he seemed to come away
with the name Demetre. "Because you can't," he said, still looking at
Dan. "But I could use someone to back me up."
Dan shook his head. "I have a party to
put on, remember?"
"I'll come," Lance said, drawing a
surprised look from Mike.
"You? Why?"
Lance couldn't explain it openly. But the
prospect of meeting Demetre again seemed mild compared to one of Sarah's
parties. He shrugged.
Mike pondered the offer for a moment.
"All right," he said finally. "I'm not sure how good a pacifist
will be backing me up. But I could use the company."
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