Shadow Prey (24 page)

"I'm not sure I'm still alive," Lucas said. "Christ, I could use a cigarette."

"Were you scared?"

"Almost paralyzed. I wanted to plead, but... it just... I don't know, it wouldn't have done any good.... I just wanted to get it off me...."

"This policewoman from New York..."

"Lily..."

"Yeah. There was a press conference, a short one, with Daniel and her and Larry Hart. She looked tough," Jennifer said, watching his face. "She looked like your type."

"I could give a shit about that," Lucas grunted. "The best thing about her is that she used to shoot in combat competition. She had that forty-five in Billy Hood's face in maybe a tenth of a second. Boom. Adios, motherfucker."

"She looked pretty nice," Jennifer said.

"Jesus, yeah. She looks pretty nice. She's a little chubby, but nice-looking."

"She looked a little chubby," Jennifer agreed. Jennifer worked out every morning at a hard-core muscle gym.

"She eats everything in sight," Lucas said. "Jesus, I wish I still smoked."

"So you're all right...."

"Nothing like this has ever happened," he said, bewildered. "I've come close before, shit, with the Maddog I almost got my ass killed. But this got to me... I don't know."

She rubbed his still damp hair and he asked, "Did you go on the date? To the symphony?"

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

"It was okay," she said. "I'll go with him again if he asks, but I won't be sleeping with him."

"Ah. Decent of you to tell me."

"He's just too fuckin' nice," Jennifer said. "No edges. Everything I said, he agreed with."

"He's probably hung like a Tennessee stud horse."

Jennifer's forehead wrinkled. "Men worry about the god-damnedest things," she said.

"I wasn't worried."

"Sure. That's why you mentioned it," she said. "Anyway, even if I did plan to sleep with him, I'd put it off for a while. I keep looking at the baby, and I keep thinking I want to do it again. With the same daddy."

Lucas turned on his side and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'd like to help, whenever you want to. Soon?"

"I think so. In a couple, three months. This time, I'll tell you when I go off the Pill."

He kissed her again and his hand crept over her breast, circling and pressing her nipple with the palm of his hand.

"I'd like a boy," she said.

"Whatever," said Lucas. "Another daughter would be fine with me."

"Maybe we could move it up. Next month, maybe."

"I'll be on the job," he said.

She laughed, shook her head and looked at her watch.

"Think you could stand some more succor? I've got barely enough time."

"Christ, I don't know, I'm getting old...." They made love again, more sedately, and later, when Jennifer was getting dressed, Lucas said, hoarsely, "I didn't want the world to go away. I would never have known, but I kept thinking... I don't even know if I was thinking it, but I was feeling it... I wanted more. More life. Jesus, I was afraid I'd just wink out, like a soap bubble...."

After Jennifer left for the airport, Lucas tried again to nap. Failing, he turned on the television and caught the cable news from Sioux Falls. John Liss was out of surgery; he'd live, but he'd never walk again. The cowboy's shot had taken out a piece of spinal cord just above the hips. They ran the tape of the shooting again, then another time, in slow motion, and then cut to a picture of Lawrence Duber-ville Clay. It was a well-known shot, the director in shirtsleeves on the Chicago waterfront, working a cocaine bust. He had a huge Desert Eagle automatic pistol packed under his arm in an elaborate shoulder holster.

"In a related development, FBI director Lawrence Du-berville Clay has announced that he will go personally to Brookings to take charge of the investigation, and said he expects to set up a temporary national FBI headquarters in Minneapolis until the conspirators are captured," the an-chorwoman said. "Clay said the move should be accomplished in the next two or three days. This is the third time that the FBI director has involved himself with a specific investigation. His action is seen as an administration effort to emphasize the importance given to its war on crime...."

Lucas poked the remote control and Clay's face went away. Three o'clock. He stood, thought a moment, then went back in the kitchen for the rest of the Tanqueray.

Chapter
13

Shadow Love saw Billy Hood's death on a television set in the corner of a Lake Street grill. The camera was a full block from the scene, but up high, and it was all as clear as a running play on Monday Night Football.

Billy and the hunter cop. The woman with the purse. Billy moving. Why did he do that? Why did he take his finger off the trigger? The woman's hand coming up with the pistol. The shot, Billy going down like a rag doll, and Davenport kneeling on the pavement, vomiting...

Shadow Love watched it once, watched it again, watched it a third time as the station endlessly ran the tape loop. "The following news broadcast contains scenes of violence and death and may not be appropriate for children. If there are any children in the viewing area..."

And then a running press conference at the shooting scene. Larry Hart: "... have developed evidence that these people are not just killing whites, but have killed one of our own, a Dakota man from Fort Thompson, Yellow Hand..."

Larry Hart on the TV. Sweating. Pleading. Twisting his hands like Judas Iscariot.

The black spot popped up, twitching, growing, blurrin;1, his vision. Shadow Love tried to blink it away, but the anger was stirring through his chest.

Judas. Sweating, pleading...

Hart's face vanished in an electronic instant, to be replaced by that of a woman newscaster. "We've just gotten word that there has been another assassination attempt in Brookings, South Dakota, apparently related to the killings done by the Indian extremist group responsible for the assassinations of the New York commissioner of welfare and a federal judge in Oklahoma. The target of the South Dakota attempt was Elmer Linstad, the state's attorney general...."

The woman paused, looked at her desk, then up again. "CBS news is reporting that Elmer Linstad, attorney general of South Dakota, is dead in an assassination in Brook-ings, South Dakota. His assailant was shot by a bystander and has been taken to a Brookings hospital...."

"Billy's dead and John's been shot." Shadow Love, carrying a long cardboard box, pushed into the apartment. He kicked the door shut and tossed the box on the couch. A printed label on the side of the box said CURTAIN RODS.

"What?" The Crows, startled, stared at him.

"You deaf?" Shadow Love asked. "I said Billy's dead. John's been shot. It's on the TV."

The Crows' apartment had come with a television, but they rarely turned it on during the day. Now they did, and the loops were running.

William Two Horses Hood, the anchorman said, had been positively identified as the slayer of John Andretti, the New York City welfare commissioner. He had been shot to death by a New York police officer after Hood had taken a Minneapolis officer hostage. The Minneapolis officer was not hurt. John Liss, a Sioux Indian from Minneapolis, was in guarded condition in a Brookings hospital....

"That's the hunter cop," Shadow Love said, tapping the screen over the film sequence of Lucas. "He found him."

"Motherfucker," Sam whispered as they watched the tape. Aaron began to weep and Sam patted him on the shoulder. They watched the tape again, then the one of the killing of Linstad, and then a rerun of the on-street press conference, with Larry Hart.

Sam looked at his cousin. "Remember him? He's one of the Wapeton Harts, Carl and Mary's boy?"

"Yeah. Good people." said Aaron. He turned to Shadow Love. "He's working with this cop?"

"Yes. And everybody likes him, Larry Hart. I went to school with him. Everybody liked him in school. Everybody likes him now. The hunter and Hart and this bitch from New York, they'll find us. There are people who know the Crows, who've probably seen you on the streets. And they'll talk...."

"You don't know that," said Aaron.

"Yes, I do. Just like I knew they'd find Billy. If they don't find us by accident, somebody will turn us in. And it could be one of you, or Leo, or John. Or maybe one of their wives."

"Nobody would do that..." Aaron objected.

"Sure they would, if this hunter pushes the right buttons," Shadow Love said.

"And of all of us, you'd be the only one who wouldn't break?"

"That's right," said Shadow Love. "Because you know what gets people? Love. That's what it is. Cops use it. They say, Help your friend; betray him. They catch Sam and they want Aaron. So they say on the news that Sam is dying, he wants his cousin to pray him into death.... Could you stay away?"

Aaron didn't answer.

"I'd never betray us, because I don't have anyone I love enough," Shadow Love said with a subdued sadness. "Sometimes... I wish I could. I never had a laugh, you know. Never got to play catch-me-fuck-me with some chick. The only one, ever, they could use against me was Mama. With her dead, there's no pressure they could put on me."

After a moment, Aaron said, "That's the most awful thing I ever fuckin' heard." Behind him, Sam nodded, and Shadow Love turned away.

"That's the way it is," he said.

Aaron, tears running down his face, said, "They're all going. There's only Leo now."

"And us," said Sam.

Aaron nodded. "If Clay doesn't come in after South Dakota, one of us may have to go to Milwaukee."

Sam glanced at Shadow Love, involuntarily, just a peek, but Aaron caught it. "No," he said.

"Why not?" Shadow Love asked, his words like an ax-edge. "I'm part of the group; I have a stone knife."

"This action is not for you. If you want to help, go out to Rosebud and talk to the old men. Learn something."

"You don't want me here," Shadow Love said.

"That's right," Aaron said.

"You assholes," Shadow shouted. "You fuckin' assholes."

"Wait, wait, wait..." Sam said, pointing at the television.

Clay and his gun: "... to Brookings and will establish a temporary national headquarters in Minneapolis. This is the third time..."

The mood changed in an instant:

"The sonofabitch is coming," Sam whooped. "The cock-sucker's on his way."

They had a quiet lunch, the three of them sitting around a rickety table eating cold-cut sandwiches with mustard and Campbell's chicken noodle soup.

"So what now?" Shadow asked. "There are cops all over the place, and the FBI. In a few more days, we won't be able to go on the streets."

Aaron glanced at Sam. "I'll call Barbara. Tell her we may be coming. I don't want to go in too soon; we'd fuck up, go outside, somebody'd see us."

"If you're not going out to Bear Butte, you ought to come over to Barbara's," Sam told Shadow Love. "She talks like you were her kid."

Shadow Love nodded. "Yeah. I saw her before I went to L. A. I don't know... we'll be a danger to her."

"She knows that," Aaron said. "We've been on the run before. She says we'll be welcome, no matter what."

"She didn't know exactly what you were planning to do...."

"She'll take us," said Sam.

"Not a bad piece of ass either," Aaron said with a grin.

Sam snorted and even blushed. He and Barbara had been lovers. Nothing had been said when he talked to her on the telephone a month before, but he knew it would start again. He looked forward to it. "Jealousy. It's an ugly sight," he said into his soup.

Shadow Love stepped to the couch, picked up the cardboard box and opened it. Inside was a flat black assault rifle. He took it out of the box. "M-15," he said. He pointed it out the window at a streetlight.

"Where'd you get it? What's it for?" asked Sam.

"I got it on the street. It's for the cop, maybe. Or Hart."

Aaron had stepped toward the stove, reaching for the teapot. He stopped in mid-stride and whirled toward his son. "No. Not Hart. You don't kill the people," he said furiously.

Shadow Love looked at him with a cold glint in his eye. "I do what I think best. You and Sam disagree all the time, but you still act."

"We always agree before we do anything," said Aaron.

"That's a luxury you won't have much longer. You can argue. You can sit and think. You can fuck up. I'll try to buy you some time."

"We don't want that," Aaron said furiously.

Shadow Love shook his head, aimed out the window again and squeezed the trigger. The click hung in the air between them.

Chapter
14

Hart worked through an Indian-dominated housing project while Sloan did background on John Liss. Lucas, fighting a blinding hangover, made the rounds of barbershops, bars, fast-food joints and rooming houses.

A little after noon, Lucas called the dispatcher to check on Lily and was told that she was still meeting with the county attorney. He stopped at an Arby's, ordered a roast beef sandwich and carried it outside. He was leaning on his car when his handset squawked and the shotgun touched him behind the ear again. He almost dropped the sandwich. He stood paralyzed, and the cold metal pressed against his head and Hood's apartment rose up in front of his eyes, the circle of squad cars, the radios squawking... A few seconds later, it all faded and Lucas staggered from the car and half fell onto a mushroom-shaped concrete stool. He sat sweating for a few moments, then got up and walked shakily to the car and started off again.