Dog Soldiers (37 page)

Hicks laughed silently.

“
What I do know … we
’
re fucked now.
”

“
Well,
”
Marge said,
“
you know me. I wouldn
’
t have it
any other way.
”

“
O.K.,
”
he said.

“
Maybe we should split up?
”

“
No,
”
he told her,
“
we ain
’
t gonna split up.
”

She did not look at him when he said it and she did not answer. It seemed to her that if she thought about pulling out even for a minute, she would be done for.

Please, can I go home now? Craven, chickenshit, and
bourgeoisie
.

Better stay. If you can
’
t hack it straight up — be a shadow.

Somewhere on 15, in the desert, she had him pull up.

He held her for a while; he was exhausted.

“
Want me to drive?
”

He took a canteen from the back seat and poured water over his hand and slapped it on his face.

“
You don
’
t want to drive, you want to do up. Anyway I know where we
’
re going now. I know where we can stop.
”

It was grossly uncool doing up. Warm canteen water in the canteen cap, the bag open on the floor, a propane lighter too hot to hold. Marge was being a shadow.

“
What we need,
”
she said, popping in her thigh,
“
is some commitment.
”

When she was stoned it was all terrific. The sun came up over the desert — there was tumbleweed and silence.

“
You are what you eat,
”
she said.

C
onverse found the bus trip back to Berkeley
wearing. On the way to his house he paused on Telegraph Avenue to look over the machines in a used-car lot. What ever became of him, he reasoned, it was after all California
and everything from suicide to civil insurrection required a car to be done properly. Inspecting the price cards, he recalled that he had only what remained of Elmer
’
s two hundred dollars. In orde
r to cadge more he would be mor
ally bound to write some
Nigh
tbeat
stories — in order to pro
duce the stories he would have to spend several hours sit ting around smoking dope. He decided it was out of the question.

When he arrived at his house and started up the front steps, Mr. Roche came out on the sidewalk and called to him.

“
The lock
’
s been changed,
”
he said roguishly.
“
You won
’
t get in with your key.
”

Confronted with Mr. Roche
’
s happy smile, Converse con
sidered how stimulating it must have been to smash his head against the pavement. In happier times, he might have found a
Nightbeat
headline in the reflection.

“
I paid your rent, for Christ
’
s sake. What do you want from me?
”

“
I
’
ll tell you what,
”
Mr. Roche said.
“
I
’
ll let you in my
self.
”

He sprang up the steps ahead of Converse and led him toward the front door.

“
What about a new key?
”

“
It
’
s being taken care of,
”
Mr. Roche crooned.

They went up to the second floor. Mr. Roche opened the apartment and stood at the door with such deference that Converse might have been the Cardinal Archbishop of Los Angeles. There was someone waiting inside.

“
Here he is, captain,
”
Mr. Roche said. Laughing gaily, he closed the door behind Converse.

It was a tall broad-shouldered man, slightly balding.

“
What the fuck!
”
Converse exclaimed. Quite involuntarily.

“
Actually,
”
the man said,
“
I
’
m not a captain at all.
”
He
pulled Converse towa
rd him. Spun partly around, Con
verse saw that there were two other men in the room. When he had his balance he saw that they were the men with whom he had watched television on
the previous eve
ning. The discovery alarmed him so thoroughly that he tried to force his way back to the door. The tall man pinned him neatly and led him to the center of the room.

“
Don
’
t try that again, creep.
”

They sat together at the end of his redwood picnic table. They appeared somehow embarrassed and did not look at him.

The tall man released Converse and produced a badge. Converse, in spite of his alarm, took the trouble to examine it closely.

“
Come on,
”
the agent said.

Converse followed him into Janey
’
s bedroom. Antheil closed the door and sat in an armchair under the devil drawing. He wore a tweed jacket over a dark blue turtle-necked jersey and he had a robust mod mustache. He looked rather like a sympathetic young dean at an eastern liberal arts college. He looked like a friend of Charmian
’
s.

“
What
’
s the matter with you? What are you so scared of?
”

“
What have you got?
”
Converse said.

At that moment, it was not fear he was experiencing. The sight of Antheil brought Charmian back to him with particular clarity. Something of her honeyed aura clung to the man
’
s tweed.

Converse was not ready for anger. What he felt was awe.

The agent smiled at him.

“
You know what I was just reading? I was just reading your play.
”

They were agreeable to look
at, Converse thought. An
theil and Charmian. Big and elegant and expensive.
“
I thought it was out of print.
”

“
Sure, but we have it. I liked a lot of it I didn
’
t like the main character though. I didn
’
t think he was much of a marine.
”

“
No,
”
Converse agreed.

“
I mean it doesn
’
t have to be the halls of Montezuma. But the guy was a real jellyfish, wasn
’
t he?
”

He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“
I mean I couldn
’
t sympathize with a character like that.
”

“
Not everyone did.
”

“
I guess you were supposed to like him because he was against the Marine Corps. But if he was against the Marine Corps why didn
’
t he do something about it? Like refuse an order. Or go over the hill. You
’
d respect him more if he did something like that
.
”

“
That would be a different play,
”
Converse said. Antheil shook his head
thoughtfully. He looked, not un
kindly, into Converse
’
s eyes.
“
That character — is that what you
’
re like? Is that you in the play?
”

“
No,
”
Converse said.

“
Maybe a little?
”

Converse shrugged.

“
My questions are crude, huh? I don
’
t read as much drama as I should.
”

He touched Converse lightly on the arm.

“
Hey, little June
’
s a cookie, right?
”

“
What?
”

“
I said,
”
he enunciated slowly,
“
little June is a cookie.
”

“
She
’
s all right.
”

“
What did she have to say?
”

Converse thought about it.

“
To me — nothing. I thought she was sort of crazy.
”

“
She
’
s got some very bad friends in this town. Did you know that?
”

“
On some level.
”

Antheil chuckled.

“
You
’
re one wise cocksucker, aren
’
t you?
”

Converse tried to brace. There was nothing to brace on.

“
You know what I think on some level? I think you smuggled a shitload of heroin into this country.
”
He did not try to answer.
“
I think you
’
re the kind of smart cocksucker who writes a tear-jerk play against the Marine Corps and then turns around and smuggles heroin.
”

“
I deny that,
”
Converse said.
“
No more literary conver
sation until I call my lawyer.
”

“
You
’
re a classy one,
”
Antheil said with a disgusted smile.

“
Who
’
s your lawyer?
”

“
Benjamin Whiteson. Thirty-five Columbus Avenue.
”

“
Whiteson? Whiteson
’
s a Communist, you asshole. He can
’
t help you. What — seriously — do you think you
’
re going to do?
”

“
I haven
’
t made any plans.
”

“
I have a plan for you,
”
Antheil said.
“
I think I
’
ll just let

you run loose. I guarantee you
’
ll be picked off the street within twenty-four hours.
”
He leaned forward confiden
tially.
“
Did you think about who you were cutting in on, running scag? The bike clubs. The black dudes in Oak land. The syndicate. I think I
’
ll feed them your ass.
”

“
Tell me this,
”
Converse said,
“
who are those guys out there?
”

“
Do you know those men?
”

Converse did not answer. Antheil was delighted; he laughed.

“
That
’
s all right, baby, I know you know them. Jesus, they really put the fear of God into you, didn
’
t they? Well
they
’
re tame rats, Jim. They
’
re nothing compared to what
you
’
ve got coming on the street.
”

“
Who are they?
”

“
They
’
re my witnesses. They
’
re cooperating in the inves
tigation.
”

“
I see,
”
Converse said.