Gift of the Golden Mountain (40 page)

     "How do you mean? What was he struggling against?"

     "The Panthers have factions, just like any other political group. There are guys that want to shoot it out, the 'black cowboys,' Eli calls them. He's not one of them; if he knew about the shooting in advance, he would have tried to stop it. I know that, May."

     "That was my next question. I can get the money as soon as the bank opens, and I'll give it to Eli gladly . . . as long as I know he tried to stop the killing. How do you know?"

     "I know Eli."

     She thought for a moment.

     "Then why not try to get him to turn himself in? We'll get him the best defense in town. Faith is an old friend of Colin Riordan— he'd take the case if she asked him. His father represented my dad—the Riordans don't lose . . ."

     "Eli is convinced he'll die if they take him in . . . he thinks the police . . . prison guards, someone on the inside will kill him. You know some Panther leaders have been gunned down in Chicago and Los Angeles. I won't ask him to turn himself in because I'm not sure he'd be safe—and I couldn't handle that . . . Eli's death, I mean."

     She took his hand and lifted it to her lips. "We'll help him get out of the country, and we'll do it together."

     "Jesus, May, I keep wondering where it will all end," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn't want to involve you," his hand caressed her hair, "but I'm not sure I can handle it without you, either."

     She left the Jaguar in the Safeway parking lot in the Marina and they drove in Hayes's car to the phone booth near a Chevron station on Lombard Street. They were supposed to be there by seven; at ten minutes past, the phone rang.

     "Can you get the money?" a voice asked.

     "We can have it by eleven this morning, maybe eleven-thirty."

     "In cash?"

     "Yes. But we have to see him."

     "No way."

     "Then no money. Tell him. He'll agree."

     "You and the lady he mentioned?"

     "That's right."

     "You wait. I'll call back in five, ten minutes."

     They sipped hot coffee from paper cups and waited.

     "You insist on going in with me?" Hayes asked for the third time. "Couldn't you just take my word?"

     "Of course I could take your word, and I would. But I want to see Eli . . . I just want to see him, to make sure he's okay, and because it could be a long time . . ."

     Hayes shifted his coffee from his right hand to his left, so he could caress her arm. His hand was warm from the coffee, his touch sent an electrical shower spraying through her stomach. "I care about him—for himself, and for what he is to you. It never occurred to me that I could be part of you without being connected to Eli."

     "He's the only brother I have left."

     "I know," she said as she watched a young woman in striped Ben Davis overalls approach the telephone booth.

     May was out of the car before Hayes knew what was happening. "Oh, excuse me," she said to the woman, as if she were out of breath, "I wonder if I could ask if you would mind awfully using another phone . . . we're waiting for an important call from the East . . . our phone is out of order and my mother is ill, the hospital said . . ."

     The woman's expression turned from annoyance to sympathy. "Sure," she said. "Sorry . . . hope it works out."

     Hayes's look made her laugh. "See how well I adjust to the circumstance?" she asked.

     "Your mother . . ." he said.

     "Mothers always work," she answered. "People understand about mothers." She grinned, so he would know she was aware of the irony. At that moment the phone rang.

"Here's the drill," he told her as he turned on the ignition and the car roared to life, "we get the cash, put it in brown paper bags, and pile some groceries on top. At eleven-fifteen we are supposed to be at a phone booth out by San Francisco State. Someone will be watching us, to make sure we aren't bringing the police. If they find out anybody is following us, the dude on the phone said we'd be in an unlucky situation."

     "Unlucky?" she repeated.

     "He meant dead," Hayes said, his voice tight. "I don't want you to go, May. I think we'd better call this whole thing off."

     "Look," she told him, playing for time, "It's not even seven-thirty yet, we've got more than two hours before we can get anybody at the bank. I need to take a shower and clean up—I haven't even combed my hair—and maybe we can even get a little rest."

She sat on the bed in the motel room combing out her wet hair. "Who could possibly be on to us?" she asked. "It isn't all that generally known that you and Eli are close, is it?"

     "He pretty much kept me separate from his Panther friends," Hayes admitted. "I'm on a lot of lists, I'm just not sure if I've been connected to Eli. It's hard to say how good the FBI really is. Sometimes I think they're inept. The Berkeley police would know about me and Eli, but I don't think the feds take them all that seriously."

     "Did anyone except Eli know you were at the beach house?"

     "No, my folks knew I took off by myself but I didn't tell them
where I was going. They expect me back late this afternoon, to help plan a memorial service. The guy who is going to take over my apartment in Berkeley is there now, doing some painting. He knows about Andy, he'd tell them."

     She looked at him. "When is the service?"

     He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, next week some time I guess . . . it depends on what the folks want."

     She waited awhile before saying, "I didn't know you were giving up your place."

     He had been lying on the bed with his hands behind his head; now he sat up, his feet on the floor. "We both know our timing is off, May. A period of separation is inevitable. You had to take the position with Dr. Obregon . . . I agree it was the right thing to do, and you knew it too—you didn't even have to stop and think about it. And I know, I've known for a long time now, that I have to get away. At first I thought I'd go to Washington, see how things worked close up, see if there is any way in the world I can work from the inside." He laughed, a harsh laugh. "Blasphemy, I know. But I'm tired of trying to scale the city walls with toothpicks for grappling irons." He frowned. "Now, with all this—Andy, Eli—I think I have to get out of the country. I'm not sure where, just away."

     "Europe?"

     "Probably."

     "Why not Asia?"

     He looked at her, thinking. "I want to go to the other side of the earth right now," he said, "as far away from the Stars and Stripes and Vietnam as I can get."

     Timidly, she asked, "Do you know for how long?"

     "Do you?" he came back.

     She shook her head and asked, "Will we be able to see each other?"

     He answered: "I sure as hell hope so . . . you're the only sane thing in my life."

     "So isn't it a little bit crazy . . ." she started to ask, but stopped herself.

She was going with him to see Eli, she gave him no choice. "They are expecting two of us," she argued. "If I don't show up they'll suspect something is wrong."

     "I don't like it," he insisted. Before they left the motel, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him with great tenderness, her lips soft on his, and she could feel him relent.

     Hayes put in a carton of guacamole dip, some taco chips, and topped the bags of cash with loaves of bread and cartons of eggs.

     "Why guacamole?" she asked.

     "Eli's favorite," he answered.

     "Why eggs?" she wanted to know.

     "When was the last time you grocery shopped?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer explained that bread and eggs always go on top so they don't get smashed.

     They parked close enough to the pay phone to hear it ring. "I still can't believe it took you only twenty-five minutes to go into the bank and walk out with a shopping bag filled with cash."

     May laughed. "The poor assistant manager—I'll have to call and apologize to him. He started to tell me that I would need to give them so many days advance notice for that kind of a withdrawal, and I just didn't have time to be polite."

     "So how did you do it—how did you get the cash?"

     "Kit showed me how."

     "You talked to her this morning?" he said, alarmed.

     "No, another time I wanted to get some cash fast—I forget now what it was for, but some assistant was balking and telling me I would have to come back, and Kit made one phone call. To the CEO. He had the money delivered to me, as I remember."

     "Money talks."

     "Most of the time I try to keep the volume turned down, but obviously I'm capable of blasting it out if I have to."

     The ring sounded once, then again before they realized it was the phone.

     Hayes jumped out of the car, grabbed the receiver so fast he almost dropped it, and shouted "I'm here." Then he said, "yes," and "yes" again before hanging up. He made a few quick notes and returned to the car.

     "We have to do a little aimless driving on the Great Highway, so they can be sure we aren't being followed. Then we go to a house in Daly City."

     They drove in silence, May holding the bags of groceries on her lap. She could smell the corn chips, her stomach rumbled with hunger.

     Hayes heard and said, "We'll eat when this is over."

It was a tidy little stucco house with a square of meticulously trimmed lawn in front, and a birdbath; only the birdbath distinguished it from all the other houses on the block. May followed Hayes up the red concrete walk and they stood—each holding one of the bags—on a doormat that said, "Welcome to our Happy Home."

     Hayes rang the bell. They could hear chimes echoing within. No one came. May whispered, "Wrong house? This one seems preposterous." He pushed the bell again. A young woman with a plain, freckled, uncomplicated face opened the door. A child, about two, was clinging to her skirts. "C'mon in," she drawled in what might have been an Okie accent, and stood back so they could push by her, into the tiny house.

     May glanced into the living room. A playpen took up most of the space. Beyond it, a young man with a thin blond beard watched television, the sound turned off. He did not look up at them.