The Road to Omaha (78 page)

“They’ll get their money back fifty times over, I
promise
!”

“Holy
shit
! Do you see what I see, T.H.?”

“I’m at the edge of this building and there’s too much going on—”

“A bunch of guys in funny green and black suits are breaking through our ranks … wait a second! Now some others—either linebackers or apes in business suits—are joining them. They’re going after your
general
!”

“Execute Plan B, Number One priority! Get him out of there! We can’t let him be hurt.… Start the chanting and the dancing.
Now
!”

“What about the two scumballs, Vinnie and the chicken?”

“Sit on ’em!”

“We did that on the bus. The little guy bit Eagle Eyes’ ass.”

“
Execute
. I’m heading over!”

Colonel Tom Deerfoot, arguably the smartest officer in the United States Air Force and certainly in line for the chairmanship of the Joint Chiefs, was strolling through the streets of Washington, showing his niece and nephew the
usual sights. As the trio turned right off Constitution Avenue toward the Supreme Court, Deerfoot’s ears picked up various familiar sounds stored somewhere in his memory banks; chants that went back to his childhood forty-odd years ago in upper New York State near the Canadian border. Tom Deerfoot was a full-blooded Mohawk, and the words and rhythms he heard were a slight variation of his own tribe’s language.

“Hey, Uncle Tommy!” cried his nephew, a boy of sixteen. “There’s a riot over there!”

“Maybe we should go back to the hotel,” suggested his niece, a young lady of fourteen.

“No, you’re perfectly safe,” said the uncle. “Wait here, I’ll be right back. Something crazy’s going on.” Deerfoot, as his name implied, was a splendid runner, and in less than thirty seconds he reached the outskirts of the confused, rebellious crowd at the steps of the Supreme Court. It
was
crazy!
Indians—their
Indians—were in full war paint, stamping and dancing, and yelling their heads off in some fanatical protest, the nature of which was hard to determine.

Then the memories came back, the legends passed down by the old men of the tribe, from one generation to another. The language he was hearing was similar but different, the pounding feet of the dancing chants imitative, yet not authentic. Good
God
, they were the Wopotamis of old! The ancient stories abounded with tales of how they stole everything in sight, so why not most of the language, and they never left their tepees whenever it snowed! Colonel Deerfoot bent over in laughter, holding his stomach so as not to collapse to the pavement in hysterics. The wild frenzy of the protesting chant with its highly suggestive dance movement was the “Celebration of the Wedding Night.”

The Wopotamis never got
anything
right!

“
Calfnose
, hear me and execute!” whispered Hawkins harshly into his radio as he threaded his way up through the dancers to the entrance of the Court.

“What
now
? We got your general out, who kept screaming
that he ‘wasn’t finished!’ Little Joey’s right, he’s a
fazool
!”

“Little
Joey
?… 
Fazool
?”

“Yeah, well we made a deal. He’ll give back half the money, and I collect twenty-per off his take for arbitration.”

“Johnny, we’re in a
crisis
!”

“No we’re not, the two scumbuckets are in a bar down the street. You know, Vinnie’s red wig doesn’t do anything for our image. Real tacky, y’know what I mean?”

“Oh, Christ, you’re talking like
him
!”

“Actually, he’s not a bad guy when you get to know him. Did you realize that ethnic Indian types are very respected in Las Vegas? Nevada was big redskin territory, y’know.”

“I’m talking about right
now
! Plan
B
, priority
Two
—the peaceful storming of the Court!”

“You’re out of your fucking mind! We could get
shot
!”

“Not if you all fall on your knees and do the wailing bit once you’re inside. It’s un-American to shoot anybody on his knees.”

“Who says?”

“It’s right there in the Constitution. You don’t shoot anyone on his knees because he’s praying and will die in a state of grace while you get shafted by God.”

“No kidding?”

“No fooling.
Go
!”

The Hawk replaced the radio in the pocket of his distressed overcoat inside the great hall of the Supreme Court as Cyrus kept Aaron, Jenny, Sam, and the two Desis off to the side, away from the arched metal detectors. “Now listen up, folks,” said the mercenary-chemist. “When the Wopotamis crash in here, D-One and D-Two will raise the cordons and you—Sam, Jenny, and Mr. Pinkus—will slip under them and head to the second floor. Use the stairs or the elevators, whatever, and go to the second closet on the right. Your other clothes are there in a plastic bag. Change in the ladies’ and men’s rooms and meet at the chambers at the west end of the hall, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“What about Mac?” asked Devereaux.

“If I know him, and by now I think I do, he’ll be at that
closet before you distributing the merchandise.
Man
, I wish that cat had been running a few campaigns I’ve been in. I’m good, but he’s the max—I mean really
evil
!”

“That’s a recommendation, Cyrus?” asked Pinkus.

“You better believe it, Rabbi. I’d follow him to hell and back because I’d know I’d
get
back.”

“Well, he never swam twenty miles in a hurricane—”

“Oh, be quiet, Sam.… Oh, oh, here they
come
!”

“Great
Abraham
!” whispered Aaron Pinkus, as a horde of Wopotamis, their painted, waxed faces grotesquely weeping, burst through the doors and instantly fell on their knees, singing in unison, their heads raised to the ceiling, imploring their gods for deliverance. (If anyone knew, and they did not, it was still the “Celebration of the Wedding Night.”)

The weapons of a dozen guards were unholstered, their guns aimed at the heads of the protesters. None was fired. Somehow, it was in the Constitution, or at least in the minds of the Supreme Court police, that one did not fire on people who were in the act of prayer. Instead, alarms were heard, not from the detectors but from within the building itself. In seconds additional guards, clerks, and maintenance personnel streamed into the great hall. Pandemonium prevailed.

“
Now
!” whispered Cyrus as Desis One and Two raised the thick velvet cords while Aaron, Sam, and Jenny swept underneath during the insanity that faced the Supreme Court police and staffers.

And during this new and totally unexpected chaos, MacKenzie Hawkins walked through the inferior metal detectors, thanked nobody in evidence, and raced to the stairway that led to the second floor.

A problem. Naturally. Vinnie the Bam-Bam’s Aunt Angelina the Go-Go had confused the second closet on the right with an air-conditioning machine room and for several precious minutes the black plastic bag holding their clothes was not found. Suddenly, there was a muted explosion that none of them really noticed.

“I’ve
got
it!” yelled Sam, in his excitement pushing a
lever and shorting out the air-conditioning. “Everything stopped,” he added, bewildered by the cessation of the huge machinery.

“Who
cares
?” cried Jennifer, holding up Pinkus as the Hawk came running down the corridor, throwing off his tramp’s overcoat.

“
There
you are!” he roared. “The goddamned staircase was locked from the outside!”

“How’d you get in?” asked Devereaux, pulling Redwing’s clothes out of the bag.

“I always carry a little plastic explosive—you never know.”

“I thought I heard a boom,” said the exhausted Pinkus.

“You did,” admitted Hawkins. “Let’s
go
.”

“Where’s the ladies’ room?” asked Redwing.

“Down at that end,” answered MacKenzie, pointing east.

“Where’s
our
room?” asked Sam.

“Much nearer, right over there on the left.”

They scattered, and suddenly Jennifer turned and shouted. “
Sam
! Can I dress with you? We’ve only got three minutes and that door’s two football fields away!”

“Boy, have I been waiting for those words!”

The platinum-helmeted hooker raced back to the chicken-breeding “Alby-Joe Scrubb” and together they followed Pinkus and the Hawk into the restroom. Jenny ran into a stall as the men shed their clothes and wigs for the more dignified attire they wore under their outlandish cam-ex equipment.

Except for the Hawk. At the bottom of the large refuse bag, layered neatly for easy removal, were the massive full ceremonial garments of Thunder Head, chief of the Wopotamis, including the longest, most flamboyant feathered headdress since the Okeechobees greeted a misguided cosmetician named Ponce de León on the shores of the future Miami Beach. He swiftly removed his tramp’s trousers and soiled shirt, replacing them with his buckskins and his beaded buffalo jacket. Then, under the stunned gazes of Aaron and Sam, he carefully placed the gargantuan trail of feathers over his head. It reached down all six feet, three inches to the tiled floor.

A minute later Redwing walked out of the stall in a smart dark-tailored suit, the image of a cool successful lady lawyer totally unafraid of facing the male-dominated Supreme Court. What momentarily terrified her, however, was the sight of MacKenzie Hawkins. “
Ahh
!” she screamed.

“My sentiments exactly,” said Devereaux.

“
General
, ” added Pinkus, in the title a soft but earnest plea. “This is not a costume parade at Pasadena’s Rose Bowl. These proceedings are among the most serious and venerable of our legal system, and your outfit, as splendid as it is, is hardly in keeping with the occasion.”

“What’s the occasion, Commander?”

“Only the future of the Wopotami tribe and a large segment of the nation’s defense structure.”

“I’ll go with the first part. Case closed. Besides, it’s all I’ve got unless you want me to walk in like a member of Hoboes Anonymous—which from another point of view
isn’t
a bad idea.”

“We’ll go with the feathers, General,” said Jennifer quickly.

“That filthy overcoat’s probably still in the hallway,” mused Hawkins. “There’s no one up here to find it; everybody’s downstairs.… Think of it, a downtrodden indigent from a disenfranchised people—in rags and maybe holding my stomach from hunger.”

“
No
, Mac!” yelled Sam. “They’d drag you out to be deloused.”

“I suppose that’s a possibility,” said the Hawk, frowning. “This is a heartless city.”

“Thirty-five seconds,” announced Redwing, glancing at her watch. “We’d better go.”

“I can’t imagine that a minute or two of tardiness would matter,” said Aaron. “I mean, that’s a veritable insurrection downstairs, the masses storming the barricades, as it were.”

“Not storming, Commander, but
praying
. There’s a difference.”

“He’s right, Aaron, and that’s not to our benefit,” said Devereaux. “As soon as the guards realize it’s basically a peaceful demonstration, the alert will be called off and all
the others will return to their posts.… You’ve been to these examinations before, haven’t you, boss?”

“Three or four times,” replied Pinkus. “Authenticity is established of the plaintiff’s identity, as well as that of the attorney-of-record, and those of whatever
amid curiae
are in attendance. Then the arguments are presented.”

“Who’s at the chambers’ doors, Commander?”

“An assigned guard and a law clerk, General.”

“
Bingo
!” roared the Hawk. “One of ’em or
both
of ’em will have our names on a list. They’ll get on a radio and a dozen others will come out of the woodwork and haul us away. We’ll never get in!”

“You can’t be serious,” said Jennifer. “This is the Supreme Court. No one can buy guards and law clerks to do that sort of thing.”

“Try billions in debt and red faces at the Pentagon, as well as State, Justice, and several dozen leeches in Congress who vacation on barrels filled with pork, against a few hundred thousand dollars spread through these hallowed halls!”

“Mac’s got a point,” said Sam.

“Flesh is weak,” observed Aaron.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” concluded Redwing.

They did, all four hastening with as much decorum as possible toward the huge carved doors of the chambers. To their relief, they saw the massive figure of Cyrus standing in front of them; to their astonishment, they also saw the two Desis, kneeling on either side of him in their clerical garb.

“Colonel, what are my adjutants
doing
here?”

“General, what the hell are you
wearing
?”

“The mantle of my tribal office, of course. Now, answer my question!”

“It was Desi the First’s idea. He said they’d gone this far, and although they’re not sure what it’s all about, they figured you should have additional protection. It was no problem for them to get up here—it’s an insane asylum in revolt downstairs.”

“How sweet,” said Jennifer.

“How
dumb
!” cried Devereaux. “They’ll be spotted, arrested,
and questioned, and our whole illegal entry will be front-page news!”

“Chu don’ unnerstand,” said D-One, raising his head, his palms still matched in prayer. “
Número uno
, we never say nodding.
Número dos
, we are
misioneros
who convert the poor
bárbaros
to dee ways of Christ. Who can arrest such
padres
? Also, if dey try, dey don’ walk for a couple of months, and nobody goes inside but chu.”

“I’ll be
damned
,” mumbled Hawkins, affection in his eyes as he looked down at his two aides-de-camp. “I brought you boys up right. In dark operations one should always have secondary egress personnel; they’re usually the first to take the fire. We hesitate to assign them because we know the odds, but you didn’t hesitate to volunteer. Fine show, men.”