Stone Junction (14 page)

‘Then take it up with him.’ Wild Bill shrugged. ‘But I’ll tell you this: If Volta gave you his word, I can stone guarantee two things – he’s working on it, and he’ll let you know. Volta may be the most honorable man I ever met. To a fault, perhaps. And besides, AMO has an extraordinary intelligence network. You won’t do any better on your own. And you do understand that if you just take off, Tilly and Owen might catch some shit. My suggestion is to talk to Volta. Give him a call in the morning. And sleep in if you want, since I guess we’re done with school.’

‘Let me talk to Volta first,’ Daniel said. ‘I would have before, but I don’t have a number for him.’

‘I got about twenty,’ Wild Bill said.

But Daniel didn’t need them. Volta arrived the next morning with a letter from Shamus. They went to Daniel’s cabin.

‘Before you read it,’ Volta said, ‘let me supply some context. Shamus is hiding. When the bomb exploded, it aborted the plutonium heist; therefore, there was no overt connection. But there were suspicions––’

‘I know,’ Daniel interrupted. ‘They asked me about him specifically. I couldn’t remember.’

‘It’s these damn computers. They probably pulled anybody who’d made a try, came up with him fleeing the Four Deuces with a woman and child – an idiot could see the connection. We’ve got to recruit more people with computer knowledge so we can either eliminate the information they want to retrieve or replace it with what we’d like them to have.’

Daniel said pointedly, ‘But
nobody
knows where Shamus is, right? Not the cops, not you?’

‘That’s correct.’ Volta smiled. ‘Forgive the digression on the skills the Alliance lacks. But while we didn’t know where he is, we did let it be known that we’d like to talk to him about the other people involved in the plutonium job.’

‘How did you do that? Let him know?’

‘We went looking for the others hard enough that the pressure was felt. Thus, the letter. It was sent from Topeka, Kansas, for what that’s worth.’ Daniel read the letter carefully.

Volta––

There were three people involved besides myself, Annalee, and Daniel (who was included at Annalee’s discretion, against my advice). Of the other three, two did not know about the diversionary bomb nor who would deliver it. The third, who constructed the bomb, did not know what it was for, when it would be used, or who would deliver it. It was evidently a faulty bomb, though the maker insists that given the nature of the device, accidental detonation was virtually impossible.

Leave it alone. I accept the blame. You have my word I will never make another attempt. Let me be.

S.M.

Daniel read it again. It looked like Shamus’s handwriting, but he wasn’t sure.

Volta said, ‘I want your permission to put out word that your mom yelled for you to run before the bomb exploded. Perhaps we can draw Shamus out – we need more information about those involved.’

‘Of course,’ Daniel agreed, then added with clear annoyance, ‘I figured you would have already done that. I mean, Shamus deserves to know. He’s blaming himself.’

‘He should,’ Volta said.

‘What do you mean? Do you think he messed with the bomb?’

‘No. I have no evidence he tampered with the bomb; none at all. I only meant that he was the agent for the occasion. He enlisted her help in a patently dangerous undertaking.’

‘She
wanted
to help him.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

Daniel paused before answering. ‘It’s complicated. I wanted to help my mom, once she was involved. And I wanted to help Shamus because I thought he felt I was jealous that Mom liked him. I wasn’t. I just wanted her to be happy. And he made her happy, I guess. And also because I believed in what Shamus was doing, and because of the excitement, too, I suppose. Like I said, it’s complicated.’

‘It’s
all
complicated, Daniel. That’s why it’s taking time to sort it out.’

‘So why didn’t you tell him that it wasn’t an accident?’

Volta said, ‘First of all, because we don’t know it wasn’t an accident. Secondly, because Shamus might already know it wasn’t.’

‘How?’

‘Maybe Shamus didn’t intend to leave any implicating witnesses.’ Volta cocked his head slightly. ‘You do understand that possibility?’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Daniel said flatly.

‘Do you want to proceed on the basis of belief, Daniel, or should we seek some concrete information?’

‘Just proceed is good enough. You’re wrong about Shamus, though – but I guess that’s something you’ll have to find out for yourself.’

‘I intend to. I’d also intended to stay through tomorrow and enjoy the good company here at the ranch, but something urgent has developed in L.A., and I must be there this evening. But I can’t leave without asking how you’re doing with Wild Bill and his odd pedagogy.’

‘You’d have to ask him. I have no idea.’

Volta smiled faintly. ‘Well, just remember that from Wild Bill “maybe” is high praise.’

After Volta left, Wild Bill walked over to Daniel’s cabin, feigning surprise when he saw Daniel sitting on the porch. ‘Still with us?’

‘Still here,’ Daniel said absently.

‘What is it now?’

‘I don’t know. Volta… I don’t quite ever believe him.’

‘He’s done right by you, near as I can tell. He is a tad slippery, but that’s because he doesn’t leap to conclusions. Likes to get a grasp of what’s going on, the big picture, before he starts mucking around.’

Daniel said, ‘Is that why you called him last night?’

‘Wrong,’ Wild Bill chuckled.

‘Just a coincidence he shows up this morning?’

‘Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that coincidence is the natural state of affairs? “As above, so below.” Only time I worry about coincidence is when it
quits
happening. That’s when your ass goes up for grabs. But for now, why don’t you get your little cracker ass up off itself and go fetch the shotguns and a couple o’ boxes of number eights – I told Tilly we’d stroll up the creek and see if we could find us some quail for dinner.’

‘What about lunch? Should I pack some sandwiches?’

‘Probably a coincidence, but I already did it while you were jawing with Volta.’

The routine held through April without significant change. Daniel was restless and increasingly impatient with Wild Bill. The lovely spring weather didn’t help. Then, on the last night of April, during formal instruction, Wild Bill surprised Daniel with a question that had an answer, albeit an answer Daniel was reluctant to provide.

‘You know that skeleton I gave you out of my audiovisual department to help you counting bones?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you call it? I mean its secret name.’

‘Well,’ Daniel stalled, ‘it’s sort of ridiculous.’

‘Let me judge that. I’m an expert.’

‘I call him “Mudflaps.”’

Wild Bill laughed helplessly, catching his breath only long enough to shriek in delight, ‘
Mudflaps! Mud … Flaps
.’

‘I’m glad you find me so amusing,’ Daniel said.

Collapsing to his knees, Wild Bill managed to gasp, ‘Me too.’

Daniel turned and walked out the door.

The next day Daniel ignored Wild Bill. He did his meditations and his work, but with an air of bored efficiency and chilly indifference. That night Wild Bill surprised him again.

‘Three holy men were traveling together. One was an Indian yoga, one a Sufi dervish, one a Zen monk. In the course of their journey, they came to a small river. There had been a bridge, but it had washed out in the winter flood. ‘Let me show you two how to cross a river,’ the yogi said – and damned if he didn’t walk across it, right on top of the water. ‘No, no, that’s not the way,’ the dervish said. ‘Let me show you guys.’ He starts whirling in a circle, faster and faster until he’s a blur of concentrated energy and all of sudden –
bam!
– he leaps across to the other side. The Zen monk stood there shaking his head. ‘You fools,’ he said, ‘this is how to cross the river.’ And with that, he hiked up his robes and, feeling his way carefully, waded across.’

Daniel waited.

‘Now the night’s question is this: What’s the point of that story?’

Daniel said without hesitation, ‘The river.’

Wild Bill looked startled. ‘Maybe,’ he said. He considered a moment and then repeated, ‘Maybe.’

Daniel said, ‘Volta claims that’s high praise from you.’

‘He does, huh?’ Wild Bill said distractedly. ‘You know, I should piss you off more often.’ He smiled. ‘Mudflaps. It’s all I could do to keep from laughing all day.’

Daniel smiled with him.

The next morning Wild Bill surprised Daniel yet again, announcing, ‘It’s my turn to quit. Actually, I’m going on vacation for awhile, which means you’re on vacation too – free to do whatever you want as long as you pull your weight on the ranch.’

‘I must have done really well or horribly poor last night,’ Daniel said, finding himself unsettled by the sudden changes.

‘Naw, you’re just ready for other angles, and we’re both tired and need to unbend. Like it says in the book, “Take care, from time to time, to unbend your mind from its sterner employments with some convenient recreation, otherwise your spirits may be weighed down, and you might lose heart for the continuation of the work.”’

‘What book is that from?’

‘
The Ordinal of Alchemy.
’

Playfully, Daniel said, ‘I didn’t even know you could read.’

‘Used to all the time, but I started losing heart so bad I almost destroyed myself on the “convenient recreations.”’

‘Are you going to see Volta?’

‘I hope not,’ Wild Bill said. ‘Jenny Sue is more like it.’

An hour later Wild Bill set out down the dirt road, his banged-up rucksack on his back, humming a marching song for the occasion, a lyric that made up in heartfelt emotion what it lacked in scansion:

Jenny Sue, ooooooo Jenny Sue,

Ain’t nothing in this whole gloriously sweet and delightful world

That little gal won’t do …

In Wild Bill’s absence, Daniel, like most students, screwed off. He converted the morning and dream meditations into sleep, and the evening meditation was reformed into fishing. In his free time he tied trout flies, read among his promiscuous selections from the library, or played cribbage with Owen. May warmed into June and June drowsed into July without word from Wild Bill. Then, on the fourth of August, what was left of him returned.

Daniel grimaced when he opened his cabin door and saw Wild Bill sagging against the frame. Both eyes were black, his left ear hideously swollen, a front tooth was chipped, and there was a neat row of stitches above his left eye.

‘Holy shit,’ Daniel blurted. ‘What happened?’

‘Aww,’ Wild Bill mumbled, ‘bunch of guys stomped the piss outa me.’

‘Why?’

‘’Cause that’s what I was trying to do to them.’

‘What about Jenny Sue or whatever her name is – your girlfriend?’

‘Last time I looked, she was helping them.’

‘Do you want me to take you in to the hospital?’

Wild Bill touched the stitches on his forehead. ‘I just got out.’

‘You want to come in and lay down? You look like you could use some rest.’

‘Kid, any more rest would fucking kill me. Pack up whatever you plan to live on till next spring. We’re going to the mountains.’ He reached into his shirt pocket with a scab-knuckled hand. ‘Here’s a list of stuff you’ll probably need. Another thing – we ain’t comin’ back for visits, so you’re not gonna be hearing from Volta or anyone else. You can call Volta tomorrow to see if there’s any news. You’ll be wasting your dime,’ cause you’d of heard if anything was happening. If you don’t want to go, I’ll go without you and we’ll call the teaching done. If you want to go, be ready in the morning.’

‘What about Owen and Tilly? They need a hand around here.’

‘There’ll be folks along to take care of that.’

‘Why the mountains? Are we hiding out?’

Wild Bill snapped, ‘No. We’re getting serious.’

His vehemence startled Daniel. He didn’t reply.

‘You want Volta’s numbers or not?’

‘No,’ Daniel said, ‘it’s okay.’

‘Get shaggin’ then. I want to get the fuck out of here.’

‘Not till you tell me what happened. What the fight was about.’

‘No secret. I said the bottle never ran dry. The bartender and his buddies said it did.’

‘I guess it did, huh?’

‘No shit,’ Wild Bill said. ‘Always.’

Tilly drove them north the next morning to the Huta Point trailhead at the edge of the Yolla Bolly Wilderness. Along the way she and Wild Bill figured out the resupply plans, deciding on a monthly interval, with the food and equipment to be cached in two metal footlockers near the old crossing on Balm of Gilead Creek. She hugged them briefly in farewell. Tilly was the last human being Wild Bill and Daniel would see for six months – besides each other, of course. They would see plenty of each other.

Daniel followed Wild Bill down and then up dark slopes of old-growth Douglas fir. He refused to ask where they were headed. Wild Bill didn’t offer a destination. He remained uncommonly silent, applying his breath to the trek, maintaining a steady pace.

They camped that night on the Middle Fork of the Eel. Each had brought his own tent. Wild Bill had explained, ‘I hired on to teach you, not sleep with you. And anyway, I’ve been known to do some late-night meditating that your snoring wouldn’t encourage.’

They finished pitching their tents as the last light faded. Daniel, ravenous, was eager for dinner, but Wild Bill told him that they hadn’t done their sunset meditation, which they were now adding to the other three. Its purpose was simply to sit and let the river roll. While he was on the subject, he informed Daniel that meditations, by ancient tradition, were doubled in duration while in the mountains.

‘That’s six hours a day!’

‘Eight for me. I normally do a half-hour at midnight and another at two. You probably should be doing eight hours yourself, but I’m easy.’

‘Does the question-time get doubled to ten minutes?’

Wild Bill ignored the sarcasm. ‘No. Five minutes is already too much work.’