Coven (26 page)

“
Get in the car, St. John.
We’se goin’ for a ride.”

««—»»

Wade sat in back, behind
the screen, as White drove his souped Buick cruiser.
Am I in trouble?
he
wondered. The mop water stank in his clothes. But the situation
stank worse.

White had developed a nervous tic. He chewed
a cigar butt and steered wringing his hands. Earlier, Lydia had
made Wade and Jervis promise not to speak of the business at the
Erblings’ dorm. She wanted to follow up on it herself, assemble
more pieces before informing White. She’d implied that White had
been covering things up lately, before Lydia could investigate them
properly. Wade knew White was a crank, but maybe it was something
more than that.

White spat out the chewed butt and parked at
the campus substation. He shuffled Wade in and slammed him down in
a chair.

“
Why the Gestapo treatment,
Chief? Is kicking a campus owned mop bucket a felony? What am
I looking at, five to ten?”

White sat at his desk. “You’re a
two bit pain in my ass, St. John. You know that?”

Two bit? What an
insult.
“What’s this all about,
Chief?”

“
It’s about your pal Tom
McGuire, that’s what!”

Wade tried to show no reaction. Had Lydia
changed her mind about informing White of the break in at the
Erblings’?

“
The goddamn punk robbed
the Town Pump last night,” White spat. “The owner made his vehicle
and got his plates, then picked his face out of random student
photos. Positive ID.”

“
Tom’s got plenty of
money,” Wade said. “He doesn’t rob liquor stores. That’s
ridiculous.”

Or was it? Jervis claimed he saw Tom
breaking into the Erblings’, which was ridiculous too. Then there
was always the Spaten cap Wade had found at the campus clinic.

“
He beat up on the owner
and stole two cases of beer.”

“
Oh, yeah?” Wade
challenged. “What type of beer.”

White grimaced at the police report. “Spaten
Oktoberfest.”

Not good,
Wade thought. “All right, even if he did rob the
Pump, which he didn’t, why drag
me
down here?”

“’
Cos you and him are
buddies. You must know somethin’ about it.”

“
Look, Chief,” Wade lied,
“I haven’t seen him for days.”

“
Bullshit! You were at the
inn with him two nights ago!”

“
That was the last time I
saw him,” Wade lied. “I haven’t seen him since then. I haven’t even
seen his car in the lot.”

White grimaced further. “Well, he ain’t
gonna be hard to find, not in that mint white Camaro of his,
and vanity plates. Got an APB out on him now. He tries to cross the
line in that car, the state boys’ll be on him like bugs on
flypaper. And what about this other motorhead friend of yours?
Jervis Phillips.”

“
Jervis isn’t a motorhead,
Chief. He drives a Dodge Colt. And what about him?”

“
He’s friends with McGuire
too. Might know somethin’. But we can’t find him either. You know
where he is?”

“
Sorry, Chief,” Wade lied
again. “Haven’t seen him.”

“
Right, and if I was the
devil I could stir my coffee with my dick. Holdin’ back knowledge
of a crime, or harborin’ a criminal, can make you an accessory.
Keep that in mind.” White pointed the cigar like a gun. “And
another thing, boy, and I ain’t foolin’ around. I hear you been
datin’ one of my officers.”

Wade looked ashamed. “It’s true, Chief.
Porker and I have been seeing each other for months now. The
wedding’s in September.”

“
Don’t get funny with me.
You stay away from Prentiss, or else next time I’ll be the one
moppin’ the floor—with
you
.”

“
I’ll never speak to her
again,” Wade lied. God,
it’s fun lying to
police!
“I won’t even look at
her.”

“
And next time you see that
candy ass drunk Jervis Phillips” —White banged his fist on the
desk— “tell him to come down here.”

“
I will, Chief.”

White lit a cigar, pinch browed. He
waved Wade away with the smoke. “Go on now, get your rich kid
face out of my office.”

Wade faltered at the door. “Say, Chief, it’s
going on ninety outside, and it’s a mile back to the center. How
about a ride?”

“
I ain’t a fuckin’ limo.
Use your LPCs.”

“
LPCs?”

White unreeled a sudden
belt of laughter. “Yeah, boy, LPCs. That’s
leather
personnel
carriers.”

White’s Deep South donkey laughter followed
Wade out into the sultry day. The heat was bad, the humidity was
worse. He was stuck in his own sweat in minutes. A cold Adams right
now would go just fine, but he still had work to do at the center,
more toilets, more floors…

Half hour later, Wade was back at the
center, drenched. He stopped midstep when he entered the supply
room.

Tom McGuire was sitting on a lab counter,
drinking a beer.

“
Wade, my man! I’ve been
waiting for you.”

“
I…” Wade said. Tom looked
sick. His face was…
gray.
“Jesus, Tom. You look like shit.”

“
I know,” Tom agreed, “but
I feel great. Come on, let’s get out of here and throw back a few
cold ones.”

“
I can’t. I have to finish
up here.”

“
Nonsense,” Tom scoffed.
“You’re only young once, believe me. You want to waste the day
scrubbing toilets?”

“
Well, no, but—”

Tom’s smile turned sad. Suddenly he was
pointing a pistol at Wade. “Just do what I say, Wade. I’ll explain
along the way.”

Holy shit,
Wade thought slowly. Tom led him out to the
loading dock, the gun barrel at Wade’s back.

“
How do you like the new
paint job?”

Wade dumbly approached the Camaro. Tom’s
beautiful white lacquered car had been haphazardly painted black.
“This is no paint job!” Wade exclaimed. “The run’s ruined! I could
do better work than this with a can of spray paint.”

“
That’s what I used,” Tom
said. “Spray paint.”

Using ordinary spray paint
on this Chevy masterpiece was like touching up
The Creation of Adam
with El Markos.
But the reason came quickly to Wade.
Camouflage,
he thought. Tom’s “Eat
Dust” vanity plates were gone too, replaced by normal
plates.

Stolen plates,
Wade realized.

“
I made it look like shit
on purpose,” Tom said. He threw Wade the keys. “Get in, you
drive.”

Wade shifted out of the
back lot. “You painted your white car black,” Wade stated. “You put
on stolen tags. You
know
the police are looking for you.”

“
Yep. The cops know my rod
on sight, but they won’t give this a second glance. Pretty slick
thinking, huh?”

“
Yeah, slick,” Wade said.
“So you did rob the liquor store.”

“
Dumb move, but what can I
say? I was thirsty.”

“
You also stole a bunch of
medical files from the clinic, mine included. And last night you
murdered Dave Willet.”

Tom seemed mildly impressed. “You’re a smart
boy, Wade. How’d you know about Do Horse?”

“
Jervis saw the whole thing
through a telescope. He also said he saw someone…eating the
guy.”

“
It’s true, partner, but it
wasn’t me. It was one of the sisters. That bitch ate half the meat
off Willet’s bones. I can’t figure out where they put it all; they
eat like pigs. She even ate the guy’s cock” —Tom chuckled— “and
that was one big meal, let me tell you. They didn’t call him
Do Horse for nothing.”

Wade turned off campus, steering stiffly.
Little point remained in asking for reasons. Wade was no
psychiatrist, but he felt fairly certain that confessing to murder
and holding your best friend at gun point in a camouflaged car with
stolen tags was a pretty clear sign of some psychological problems.
Tom was crazy—

And Wade was scared.

“
You’ll understand it all
once you’ve become part of the family, Wade. But I know what you’re
thinking. You’re thinking I’ve gone nuts, that I’ve turned into
some sort of psychotic criminal.” Tom pointed quickly to the exit.
“Take Route 13 south.”

Wade did so, wondering. He
assumed Tom planned to flee the state, but 13 south would take
them
away
from the
state line.

“
I’m no criminal, Wade,”
Tom went on. “And I’m no psycho.”

“
What are you,
then?”

Tom’s pallid grin reached its peak. “I’m a
myrmidon—a holy gofer. I’m the shoeshine boy to the gods.”

No, you’re crazy,
Wade thought.

“
Let’s get off these grim
topics,” Tom suggested. “We’re still friends, it’s just that the
circumstances have changed a little.” He pulled a couple of beers
from a cooler in back, a Spaten for himself and an Adams for Wade.
He removed the non twist off caps with his fingers. “A
toast,” he proposed, and raised his bottle. “To
destiny!”

“
Yeah, to destiny. Whatever
you say, Tom.”

Their bottles clinked.

“
Hey, Wade. You ready for
an old one?”

“
Sure, why not?”

“
You know what they say
about Liberace, don’t you? He was great on the piano, but he sucked
on the organ.”

“
Hilarious,
Tom.”

“
Aw, come on, buddy, cheer
up,” Tom said, and chugged some of his Spaten. “You’ll feel
different once you’re in.”

Wade drove on stoically. This whole thing
was madness.

“
Besser will be mighty
pissed that the cops are onto me,” Tom said. “At first we had to be
real careful, but I don’t think that matters now. We’ll be gone in
a couple of days.”

Wade blinked. “What does Besser have to do
with this?”

“
He’s my supervisor. Winnie
Saltenstall too. They’re called nativeemissarials. I’m just a
productionvassal. And the sisters are like…project managers. We all
work for the Supremate. It’s a family. And what’s best is
you
get to join the
family too.”

Wade followed the wooded bends of the road.
He still didn’t know where they were going, nor was he compelled to
ask. Even if a cop passed, it wouldn’t matter. They were looking
for a white Camaro, not a black one. The only vehicles to pass were
periodic semi rigs, which dangerously used the Route as a
shortcut to the interstate.

“
Hogs of the road,” Tom
remarked as one big rig blared past, blowing its horn. The truck
roared by them. “Goddamn truckers think they own the Route. Be
careful around these bends, man.”

“
I have driven the Route
before, Tom.”

“
I know, just be careful.
If I don’t get you to the labyrinth in good shape, my ass is
grass.”

“
The labyrinth? I’m not
even going to ask.”

“
Besser will tell you all
about it. We’re going back behind the agro site, in case you’re
wondering. That’s where the labyrinth is. I can show you our little
graveyard back there.”

Off and on, Wade glanced
over. Occasionally Tom rested back as if listening to something in
his head.
Probably instructions from
God,
Wade thought.
Or Son of Sam’s dog.
Tom’s hair
seemed to be thinning—Wade could see a bump of some kind. Then
there was always the upside down cross around his neck. Hadn’t
Wade noticed Besser with an identical cross on his first day at
work?

“
What’s that thing around
your neck?” he finally asked, and swerved through the next bend.
“You in a satanic cult or something?”

Tom chuckled. “That’s a good one. Don’t
worry about it.” He tossed his empty Spaten. “You ready for
another?”

“
Sure,” Wade said. Getting
loaded seemed as good a way as any to deal with this. “Here’s an
idea,” he offered. “Let’s turn around right now, check you into the
hospital, and we can go to the labyrinth tomorrow. Sound
good?”

“
Sounds bad,” Tom said.
“Just keep driving.”

Another semi roared by, horn blaring. Wade
swerved.

“
I’m serious, buddy,” Tom
complained. “Be careful around these bends. If you got killed, I’d
be neck deep in the Supremate’s shit.”

“
I’m impressed by your
concern for my well being.”

“
Just be careful around
these bends.”

Wade tried to concentrate on his driving.
Once they got to the agro site, he presumed Tom, in his delusions,
would kill him. He’d mentioned a graveyard, hadn’t he? Wade needed
a plan, and fast. His only chance seemed to be wrecking the
car—drive into a ravine or spin out, and hope to escape in the
confusion.

But one second later, fate provided its own
plan.

What seemed to transpire
over minutes actually took place in a few heartbeats. Wade pulled
through the next bend. Tom shouted: “Careful around
these—
look out!”
An oncoming car was suddenly in their lane, a black Fiero with
two obviously shit faced occupants. “We’re gonna wreck!” Tom
shouted. Wade swerved, lost control as he jerked the wheel. The
Camaro shuddered off the road and plowed into a good sized
tree. Wade, on impact, shot forward and snapped back. He was
wearing his seat belt. Tom, however, was not.