Last Man Standing (43 page)

“Lower levels are usually cold,” Web said to Billy. “Especially with all this stone. And yet it feels warmer down here than
it did upstairs.”

“We have the best heat in the world here,” replied Billy, who worked the bar like he had been born to it. “Radiant steam.
Gwen said she showed you around. Well, those three Weil McLain boilers you saw heat the water to two-twelve and turn it into
steam, of course. The steam flows through the pipes and into the cast-iron Gurney radiators that are in each room in the house.
Then the steam cools back to water, runs through the system again, is turned into steam once more and on it goes. And you
have not only warmth, but a built-in humidifier.” He handed Web his beer. “A lot of the steam pipes run under this floor,
that’s why it’s so nice down here. I love it. And this time of year, it can get to be eighty-five in the day and forty at
night. But McLain boilers is why Gwen can go bare-armed down here and still feel nice and toasty, ain’t that right, honey?”

“Actually, I’ve felt hot all day.”

Web rubbed his hand against the bar. “Nice setup with this thing.”

“Dates from 1910,” said Billy. “The owner back then put a lot of work into the place. It needed it, though. Unfortunately,
it needed a lot more by the time we got to it. Story of my life.” He carried the drinks over on a serving platter and handed
them out. They all sat down.

“Gwen tells me you’ve got some promising yearlings.”

“Yeah, maybe a Triple Crown winner in there,” said Billy. “Now, that would be nice. Pay at least a month’s worth of bills
on this damn place.”

Gwen and Web exchanged smiles at this comment.

“We can always hope,” said Gwen. “But being one step from the poorhouse all the time at least is exciting.”

“Well, we do okay here,” said Strait, looking at her.

Web thought the choice of pronouns interesting. He was starting to wonder who actually owned the place.

Billy took a pull on his scotch. “Yeah, this ain’t such a bad place. Even got fox hunting around here.”

Gwen looked repulsed. “That’s disgusting.”

“Well, this
is
fox-hunting country, and in Virginia you got to do like the snooty Virginians do.” Billy smiled at Web. “Actually, our damn
neighbors can be kind of a pain in the ass. They got ticked at me because I wouldn’t let them ride across my land while they
were chasing that damn fox. I told them they didn’t fox-hunt down Richmond way and it seemed like the deck was stacked against
the little feller anyway and I’ve always tended to root for the underdog. Well, those pricks took me to court. And won. There
were some old covenant in my chain of title that said fox hunting apparently runs with the land.”

Romano looked disgusted. “Now, that’s a bitch. Talk about your unfree country.”

“Well, they don’t come across East Winds anymore,” said Strait.

“Why’s that?” asked Web.

“Billy shot one of their dogs—excuse me, hounds.” He slapped his leg and laughed.

Billy was nodding as though remembering a pleasant memory. “He took after one of my horses. That particular horse was worth
about three hundred thousand dollars. Damn hound dog’s a dime a dozen. So damn right I shot him.”

“Did they take you to court again?” asked Web.

“They did, and this time I kicked their ass.” He smiled, took another drink and looked at Web. “So did you enjoy the fifty-cent
tour Gwen gave you?”

“She’d make a great tour guide, actually. I was interested in the farm being a stop on the Underground Railroad during the
Civil War.”

Billy pointed to the gun cabinet. “And that stop’s right over there.”

Web looked at the gun cabinet and said, “I’m not getting it.” “Go ahead and show him, Billy,” said Strait.

Billy motioned for Web and Romano to follow him. He went over and pushed down on what Web figured must be a lever concealed
in the cabinet’s frame. Web heard a click and the cabinet swung toward him, revealing a small opening.

“There’s no electricity or windows in there, just a couple of rough bunks, but when you’re running for your freedom, you can’t
be too picky,” said Billy. He picked up a flashlight that was hanging on a wall peg and handed it to Web. “Have a look.”

Web took the flashlight, poked his head inside and swung the light around. He almost dropped the flashlight when the light
caught on a man sitting there in a bentwood rocker. As his eyes adjusted to the poor light, he saw it was actually a mannequin
dressed as a male slave, with a hat and muttonchop whiskers, the whites of its eyes in unsettling contrast to the painted
black skin.

Billy laughed and said, “You’ve got some damn strong nerves. Most people scream.”

“Billy put that in there, not me, Web,” said Gwen quickly, with a trace of disgust in her voice.

“It’s one of my sick little jokes,” added Billy. “But hell, if you can’t laugh at life, what are you gonna laugh at?”

On that they finished their drinks and went in to dinner.

They didn’t eat in the formal dining room. As Billy explained it, the room was so big that when you wanted to talk to one
another you had to scream to be heard and he was a little hard of hearing as it was. They ate in a small room off the kitchen.
Gwen gave the blessing and made the sign of the cross, as did Romano. Strait, Web, and Billy just looked on.

Gwen had made a Caesar salad, sirloin tips, fresh asparagus in a cream sauce and what smelled and tasted like homemade rolls.
Cherry pie and coffee finished off the meal, and Romano sat back, rubbing his flat, hard stomach.

“A lot better than MREs,” he said, referring to the U.S. military’s meals-ready-to-eat.

“Thanks, Gwen, it was great,” said Web.

“We used to entertain quite a bit in Richmond,” she said. “We don’t do a lot of that anymore.” She shot a quick glance at
her husband as she said this.

“Lots of things we don’t do anymore,” said Billy Canfield. “But it was a fine meal and my toast to the chef.” He went over
to the sideboard and brought back a decanter of brandy and four cut-crystal glasses. “Now, I’m partial to my Jim Beam, like
any good southern gentleman, but a proper toast requires a proper libation.” He poured out the brandy and filled his glass
with Beam, and they toasted Gwen.

She smiled and raised her glass to them. “Well, it’s nice to be so popular with so many men.”

As they took their leave, Web drew Billy aside.

“I just want to get the ground rules clear. Be sure to set the alarm when we leave, and set it every night before you go to
bed. There are so many ways in and out of this place, I want you and Gwen to come and go the same way. That way you won’t
inadvertently leave a door unlocked. If you’re thinking of going out, even if it’s just a stroll, you call us first and we
go with you. If anything spooks you or Gwen, you call us. Nothing is too small, okay? Here’s my cell phone number. It’ll be
on twenty-four hours a day. And I want you to strongly consider letting Romano and me stay in the house. If something goes
down, seconds do count.”

Billy looked at the slip of paper with Web’s number on it. “Pris- oners in our own home, I guess it’s come to that. Those
bastards.” He shook his head wearily.

“Those guns in your cabinet, they just for show or you use them in your hunting?”

“Most of them are shotguns. Couldn’t use them on game you want to mount because shotgun ammo ruins the skin and takes off
heads. I keep my big-game weapons in a locked cabinet upstairs. I’ve also got me a twelve-gauge and a .357 Magnum too. Both
loaded. They’re for two-legged sumbitches trespassing on my land. Gwen’s a damn fine shot too. Probably better’n me.”

“Good, just remember to shoot only the bad guys. Now, you got any travel plans coming up?”

“Just a shipment of horses we’re taking up to Kentucky in a few days. I’m going with Strait and some of the boys.”

“Talk to Bates, he may see it differently.”

“Listen to Web,” said Nemo, who walked over after overhearing their conversation. “Somebody’s looking to get to you, Billy.
Stay put so the Feds can protect you.”

“Going soft on me, Nemo?” asked Billy.

“Hell no. Something happens to you, I’m out of a job.”

“Any visitors you expecting out of the ordinary?” Web asked. Billy shook his head. “Most of our friends in Richmond aren’t
our friends anymore. Maybe it’s mostly our fault. We keep to ourselves here.”

“These neighbors of yours, at the Southern Belle, what do you know about them?”

“Only that they’re ruder than me.” He laughed. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know much about them. They don’t join in much
local stuff, not that I do either. I’ve only seen what I guess was the foreman.”

“How about that chopper and their plane?”

Billy made a face. “That is damn aggravating. Scares the horses.”

“How often do you see the plane and the chopper go out?”

Billy considered this. “A lot.”

“What’s a lot? Nightly, weekly?”

“Not nightly, but more often than weekly.”

“Same direction each time or different?”

“Different.” He looked at Web warily. “What’re you thinking?” Web gave a tight smile. “I’m thinking we’ll just keep an eye
on that airline next door.”

W
hen Romano and Web got back to the carriage house, Web filled him in on the talk he had had with Billy.

“You think something’s going down on the property next door?” said Romano.

“No, I think something going’s
up.
”

“Well, that was an interesting evening. I gotta tell you, that hobby of Canfield’s is kind of spooky.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly like building model planes. And what’s your take on Nemo Strait?”

“Seems like a regular enough fellow.”

“I was sort of surprised he was invited to the big house for dinner with the boss.”

“Well, look at where Billy came from. He’s probably more comfortable around people like Strait than a bunch of rich fat cats
fox hunting.”

“You’re probably right. Gwen didn’t seem to care for him, though.” “She’s more of a lady. And he’s kind of crude.” He added
with a smile, “Like me. I didn’t know she was Catholic.”

“Yeah, she’s got a little chapel in the woods where she goes to pray every day for her son, the one I let die.”

“You didn’t let the kid die, Web. Hell, if the negotiators had let you guys do your thing from the get-go, the boy probably
would be alive.”

“Look, Paulie, I got an appointment tonight, so you’re going to have to go it alone. I don’t have to leave for a while, so
you can get some shut-eye. Bates is keeping agents at the rear and front gates for the next couple of days, though, so you’re
not really all by your lonesome.”

“Appointment, what kind of appointment?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

“This have something to do with what happened to Charlie Team?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, damn, Web, I’d like to be in on that.”

And I’d like you to be covering my back.
“Can’t desert the old post. I should be back before morning. Now, if I were you, I’d patrol around a little bit. I wouldn’t
be surprised if Canfield started off by testing us and so he might slip out. Although I think almost dying this morning put
the fear of God in him, but we can’t take that chance.”

“Not to worry, I’ll do some snooping.”

“If you see that plane or chopper go over, log it in. And I brought a bunch of night optics, help yourself.”

“Those damn things always give me a headache and they screw with your depth perception too much.”

“Yeah, well, you remember those ‘damn things’ saved our necks in Kosovo.”

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna hit the sack.”

“And Paulie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just because there aren’t a bunch of guys with big guns surrounding us doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. Be extra careful.
I don’t want to lose anybody else, okay?”

“Hey, Web, remember who you’re talking to.”

“You and me have had our differences over the years, but we’ve also been to hell and back together. I kind of like having
you around. You hear me?”

“Gee, Web, you really do care.”

“You’re a real prick, Romano, you know that?”

W
hen Web had called the number on the slip of paper Big F had given him, the voice that had answered was a man’s.Web didn’t
know if it belonged to Big F, since his initial encounter with the giant had involved concussions rather than words. Web had
hoped it was Big F on the line because the voice was high and shrill. What a wonderful joke for God to play on the man by
giving him a squeaky set of pipes. Yet a silly voice wasn’t going to lessen the fear of doing the two-step with the walking
oak again. Big F didn’t hit with his tonsils.

The man had told Web to be driving north across the Woodrow Wilson Bridge at exactly eleven o’clock that night. Web would
receive additional instructions at that time; by cell phone, Web figured. His number was unlisted, but it seemed nothing was
sacred these days.

Web, of course, had sensibly questioned why he should even go.

“If you want to know what happened to your buddies, you’ll be there,” the man had said. “And if you want to keep on living,”
he added. Appropriately enough, the phone line had gone dead after that.