Part 8 (1/2)
”Look. This is an order and it's serious. You want to strip, or be stripped?”
I did as I was told. They backed me into a corner and inspected the room to see if there was anything of mine hidden in it. That search didn't take long. They went off with everything.
It could have been an hour later before anybody came near me. Then it was Mr. Persival himself. A tall stooped figure, s.h.a.ggy tousled dark hair flecked with gray. Long face and a lantern jaw. Eyes set deep in the bony sockets. The sports clothes looked unlikely on him, as did the big gla.s.ses with the slight amber tint, the boldface watch, water resistant to three hundred feet. He was an actor playing a contemporary Lincoln, or a Vermont storekeeper who'd built one store into a chain. He walked with care, the way the ill walk. The girl called Nena slid into the room with her weapon aimed at my chest and moved over to the side to keep Persival out of the line of fire. She was lithe and quick.
”My name is Persival, Mr. McGraw.” A deep voice, soft and gentle. An air of total command, total a.s.surance. ”My young a.s.sociates and I would be grateful for some explanation of this.”
He held out a big slow hand, and resting on the palm was the cartridge case I had picked up. I spoke without hesitation, blessing the Susan I had known long ago for teaching me how to live a part. ”Explanation? I picked that up out there. I never saw one just like it. I put it in my pocket. I mean, if that's the same one.”
”I think we will go outside and you will show me where you found it.”
”Can I have some clothes?”
”It isn't that chilly yet.”
When I hesitated, I saw Nena lower the aiming point from chest to belly. I couldn't read anything in her eyes. She walked behind us. Persival walked just out of arm's reach, off to my left. ”And what were you doing over here?”
”I was looking for somebody so I could ask them about the Church of the Apocrypha, Mr. Persival. I wondered if the road I came up went down this side to more buildings, maybe. Then I saw all those trees down there, the way they were busted off at the same height. I went down and looked at them. I saw trees looking like that after we cleared some people out who were trying to ambush us, but the man on point stopped them in time. It was done some time ago. Weeks ago, probably, from the dead leaves and the dry wood. I saw slug marks on the trunk and I could kind of figure where the weapon must have been. Or weapons. Right over here. So I saw a glint in a crack in the rocks. Here, I think. No, it was this one. Because here is the twig I hooked it out with. It was a kind I never saw before, so I put it in my pocket. And now you've got it.”
He nodded at me and smiled in a kindly way. ”You were just wandering around here, Mr. McGraw?”
”Looking for somebody to talk to.”
He sighed and said, ”Yes. Looking for somebody to talk to.”
”Then I was walking toward the buildings when the patrol came up onto the flat right over there.”
”Why do you call it a patrol?”
”I don't know. People in uniform carrying weapons and ammo, wearing light packs. Not enough for a squad, and they were coming back out of the country. What would you call them?”
”Followers of the true faith.”
”Well, I wouldn't know that. I would like to know something about my little girl and how I can find her.”
”Let's walk back. It's getting chilly.”
”I'd appreciate that,” I said. If there is any way to feel more naked than standing out in 60-degree weather as the day is ending, with a girl aiming an automatic weapon at the small of your back, I would not care to hear of it.
On the way back I noticed that he did not walk quite as far out to my left. I could have reached him, if I felt suicidal.
”You were carrying a considerable amount of cash in the double lining of that duffel bag, Mr. McGraw.”
”I was hoping you wouldn't look that close.”
”We're very careful people. Is it stolen?”
”h.e.l.l, no, it's not stolen! Or maybe it is now, hah?”
”Don't become agitated, please. Just tell me where you got it.” I told him. He thought it over and nodded. ”So you decided to make your funds last as long as possible, so your search would not be hampered by the need to seek employment.”
”That's exactly correct.”
We went inside. He sat on the straight chair and told the girl to go get my clothes. She hesitated, and he looked stonily at her and said, ”Sister?” She scuttled away. She brought the clothing. Persival sent her away. He watched me dress. He said, ”You seem to have suffered an extraordinary number of wounds, Mr. McGraw. Are they all service-connected?”
”No, sir, not all. Two are. High on my back on the right side and the shoulder. And here on the left hip.”
”How about that huge wound on your right thigh?”
”That was a hunting accident long ago. I went a long time before they found me. It got infected, and I was out of my head and nearly died. Some of this other stuff, I'm in kind of an active line of work. And the guys I work with, when we play we play rough. Beside that, sir, I have a bad temper sometimes. I go out of my head, sort of. I haven't kilt anybody, but I've tried hard.”
”You don't seem to have the hands of a commercial fisherman.”
I held my hands out and looked at them, backs and fronts. ”What do you mean? Oh, you mean like those old boys that go out in the freezing water off of Maine or someplace? They get those big paws like catcher's mitts, and those busted twisted fingers. My daddy had hands like that from working the big nets. It's all nylon now, and you have to wear tough gloves or cut yourself to ribbons. Besides, I haven't been out working the nets for a long time now.”
”You seem to be in excellent shape, Mr. McGraw.”
”I'm not as good as I'd like to be. You know, the old wind. And the legs give out first. But I've always stayed in pretty good shape. Never had a beer belly.”
”And you have had combat experience?”
”As a grunt. I can do the BAR, mortars, flame, mines, whatever. I was in it fourteen months. Got to be a utility infielder.”
”Then you must have watched our little... patrol with a practiced eye. Would you have any comment?”
”I haven't seen much. They're trained down fine, physically. They move quick and they move well. They carry the weapons at the ready. But all the rest of it? I don't know what they can do. They look good. What are they training up to do anyway?”
”Please sit down there, on the mattress, Mr. McGraw. Make yourself comfortable.” He hitched the straight chair closer and leaned over, forearms resting on his knees, long fingers dangling. ”I will do you the courtesy of speaking to you with absolute frankness.”
”Something happened to my little girl?”
”Please. I wouldn't know about that, nor even how I could find out. I am trying to tell you that if I were to follow my own rules, I would have my young a.s.sociates take you out into the tall trees and blow your head off.”
”Why? Why the h.e.l.l would you do that?”
”You came stumbling and b.u.mbling in here through an entrance that should have been guarded. The young man responsible will be punished. But I am not taking pity on your innocence and your naive quest. I am thinking of sparing you only because I believe there is some specific use I can make of you.”
”Such as what?”
”Are you in any position to ask me that, right now?”
”I reckon not, if you don't want me to, Mr. Persival.”
It was getting so dark I could hardly see his face. I could see a pale reflection of the after-dusk sky in his tinted gla.s.ses. He had a strange weight and force about him. Total confidence and a total impartiality.
The distant engine started. The overhead bulb flickered, glowed, brightened. He stood up and stared down at me, then turned on his heel and left, leaving the door open. I walked out and stood with my thumbs hooked in my belt, looking at the faint glow in the western sky, above the sharp tips of the big pines far down the slope. I had thre feeling I was being watched, and that it had been set up before Persival paid his call. I yawned and stretched, scratched myself, and slouched back into C Building, wondering if I should have pushed the money question a little harder. Would Tom McGraw have pushed it? Not when faced with the possibility of getting shot in the head.